Book Review: The Plague

The Plague by Albert Camus; translated by Stuart Gilbert (New York: Vintage International, 1948. 320 pp)

Born in French Algeria, Albert Camus was a renowned author and philosopher. He attended the University of Algiers. Camus is best known for his novels, The Plague and The Stranger as well as his view of absurdism in philosophy. He won the Nobel Prize in literature in 1957 and died in a car accident in 1960.

Stuart Gilbert was an English literary scholar and translator. He translated into English works from André Malraux, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Georges Simenon, Jean Cocteau, Albert Camus, and Jean-Paul Sartre.

Awaiting the Big One

It seems every couple of years, a potential pandemic arises. Whether swine or bird flu, society lives in fear of the next Spanish flu, a robust strain of influenza capable of wreaking havoc in the world. Perhaps this phobia emerges from the fear of the unknown. If we can’t measure and experiment it, how can we ever be prepared? Such an illness reminds us of the powerlessness of humanity. No matter how advanced our technology becomes, a small virus can destroy society.

Interestingly, the portrayal of pandemics exists throughout the media of artistic expression. Just recently, we encountered the theme in the blockbuster, Contagion.

While most certainly not the first in this genre (though it might be—more research is required and I am too lazy to do it), I found Albert Camus’ The Plague fascinating.

The Plague

Photo by José Goulão 

Chronicling the rise of a pandemic in the Algerian city of Oran in the early 1940s, The Plague follows Dr. Bernard Rieux and his fellow medical workers as they combat the bubonic plague.

Much like the devastating plague of the Middle Ages, residents begin the spiral downward when they notice the city’s rat population dwindling in dramatic fashion.

“Puffing a cigarette, Jean Tarrou was gazing down at the convulsions of a rat dying on the step in front of him. He looked up, and his gray eyes remained fixed on the doctor for some moments; then, after wishing him good day, he remarked that it was rather odd, the way all these rats were coming out of their holes to die” (13).

Soon, the strange rat deaths transfer to their human counterparts. What begins as a few cases emerging daily grows exponentially in the coming weeks. Very quickly, the plague overwhelms Rieux.

“And every evening mothers wailed thus, with a distraught abstraction, as their eyes fell on those fatal stigmata on limbs and bellies; every evening hands gripped Rieux’s arms, there was a rush of useless words, promises, and tears; every evening the nearing tocsin of the ambulance provoked scenes as vain as every form of grief. Rieux had nothing to look forward to but a long sequence of such scenes, renewed again and again” (90-91).

The grueling deaths from the plague create a miasmic atmosphere. Rieux and his motley assembly of volunteers traverse thequarintined city helping the sick. What follows is a life and death struggle between citizens and this faceless affliction.

Gritty Realism

For me, The Plague resembles Saramago’s Blindness and I wonder how much influence Camus provides for Saramago. The prose in The Plague displays a gritty realism reminding the reader of the ever-present danger lurking behind every breath, wheeze, and cough.

Camus vividly depicts this realism when describing the agony of infected Oran citizens. Recounting a young child, Camus writes:

“When for the third time the fiery wave broke on him, lifting him a little, the child curled himself up and shrank away to the edge of the bed, as if in terror of the flames advancing on him, licking his limbs. A moment later, after tossing his head wildly to and fro, he flung off the blanket. From between the inflamed eyelids big tears welled up and trickled down the sunken, leaden-hued cheeks. When the spasm had passed, utterly exhausted, tensing his thin legs and arms, on which, within forty-eight hours, the flesh had wasted to the bone, the child lay flat, racked on the tumbled bed, in a grotesque parody of crucifixion” (215).

Such prose is heartbreaking and horrifying. The level of detail strikes fear in the heart of men. What is keeping our modern society from facing a new strain inflicting damage such as this?

A Fight Against Terror and Its Relentless Onslaughts

Albert Camus

Truthfully, life will always be a fight against such unknown assailants. Camus poetically ponders,

“Nonetheless, he knew that the tale he had to tell could not be one of a final victory. It could be only the record of what had had to be done, and what assuredly would have to be done again in the never ending fight against terror and its relentless onslaughts, despite their personal afflictions, by all who, while unable to be saints but refusing to bow down to pestilences, strive their utmost to be healers” (308).

When such unknowns emerge, a robust resolve to heal is the only response humanity has. Epidemics come and go. Some exotic bacteria will wreak havoc someday. But humanity has a choice. We can either cower behind an inevitable deterministic attitude, or we can fight.

Camus’ The Plague exhibits the horrifying nature of disease. It also promotes the tenacity of humanity. If you are interested in gritty realism, check out The Plague.

Verdict: 3.5 out of 5
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Posted by: Donovan Richards

Affiliate Links: Powell's Amazon Indie Bound

Album Review: Ten Stories

Ten Stories by mewithoutYou (Pine Street Collection, 2012. 40 minutes)

mewithoutYou is an American rock band from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The band includes Aaron Weiss (vocals), Michael Weiss (guitar), and Rickie Mazzotta (drums) with a carousel of supporting musicians. mewithoutYou signed with Tooth and Nail Records releasing their first four records with the label. Ten Stories is self-released and offers a return to the band’s earlier sound.

Circular Narrative 

“All circles presuppose they’ll end where they begin, but in their leaving can they ever come back round.” – Aaron Weiss adapted from Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit.

Looking back on the music that defined my teen years, not much of it carried staying power. I liked ska, but the genre died in 1995. Punk rock had energy, but the lyrics are pointless and I have nothing to angst against. Hardcore and Metal, for the most part, exist as a medium by which talented musicians prove their worth; I don’t want to listen to their unending quest for technical superiority.

Of the bands in my teenage years, mewithoutYou is the only one sticking around. While my teenage-self rocked to energetic music caring little about the lyrical content, the rich narratives penned by Aaron Weiss supplement my current passion for the band.

Background Narrative 

In truth, Aaron Weiss has always been narrative-heavy. In fact, my first introduction to the band emerged from the most interesting band blog post I’ve ever read.

To be concise, mewithoutYou—a Philadelphia-based band—played a show in Baltimore. Ever seeking introspective solitude, Aaron urged the band to depart for Philadelphia without him—he wanted to walk home. What ensued was a half-hilarious, half-existential account of this singer’s 3 day hike back home.

I’ve been a fan ever since.

Circus Narrative 

With Ten Stories, we find mewithoutYou flourishing underneath rich lyrical stories. The album’s opener, “February, 1878”—an inside joke since the band has a song titled, “January, 1979”—depicts a horrific circus train crash.

“February 8th, 1878 south of Trout Creek west of Cedar Lake on a winding mountain trail of the North Pacific Union Rail, the snow arrived on time the circus train was running late rip spot’s past and all the knuckles worn firebox bursting to the running boards a pounding in his chest crushing like a cider press the Hogger rode the throttle round the bender like a flank-strapped horse”

Some animals flee in the melee; some remain in the opened cages, afraid of change.



The rest of the album, then, tells the stories of these escaped animals.

While the animals experience a wide spectrum of life, my favorite tracks are “Aubergine” and “Fox’s Dream of the Log Flume”.

Romance Narrative 

Literally, a love song between a labrador and an aubergine, “Aubergine” also unveils the inner fears of Weiss.

“Sugar down the syrup in the Queen Anne’s lace shining in the light of the nightshade cultivating unsophistication in my face trying to think of nothing to say / grapes gone sour and the spinach went to seed (it was spindly and sick from the outset) / waiting for the hour with the wherewithal to leave, patient as a dog for its master. / The Labrador was locked to the promontory rocks, she called down ‘time is an illusion.’ / An inconsequential shift as the continents drift but my confidence was crushed and I miss you regardless.”

While certainly ethereal, such pointed observations can only exist with experience. I can certainly relate to waiting with the wherewithal to leave.

Philosophical Narrative 

Additionally, “Fox’s Dream of the Log Flume” provides a sublime example of Weiss’ brilliance:

“FOX: Provisionally, ‘I’ practically alive mistook signs for signified and so since have often tried to run them off the cliff like Gadarene swine and tied my though-ropes in anchor bends wondering whether we were someone better, then, or maybe just better able to pretend (and what better means to our inevitable end! BEAR: No, I don’t know if I know, though some with certainty insist ‘no certainty exists’ well I’m certain enough of this: In the past 14 years, there’s only one girl I’ve kissed”

“Provisionally ‘I’” and a “provisionally ‘you’” from later in the song emerge from existentialist thinker Martin Buber. The “I” and “You” only have meaning in relationship with each other. Yet, at the same time, we are individuals. We aren’t “I” unless there are others in relationship with us, but, only as an individual can we even consider the idea of “I”.



Weiss’ mention of Gadarene swine paints a vivid metaphor. Weiss is referring to the story in the Synoptic Gospels where Jesus casts a legion of demons out of a man and into a drove of pigs sending them careening of a cliff to their demise.

Weiss unlocks a classic philosophical fallacy when he states, “some with certainty insist ‘no certainty exists’”. Any collegiate level course on epistemology will communicate the difficulty of finding certainty. Blame it on Descartes but we can never find conclusive proof for any claim. Yet, to state with certainty that we can’t find certainty is a fallacy. We can only talk in terms of what is most likely to be true.

Circular Narrative 

With Ten Stories, mewithoutYou has come full circle in connection to my listening experience. While as a teenager I focused almost exclusively on the music, my journey led me away from the band as I grew and expanded my tastes. But like any circle, progress brings me back round again as I find enlightenment in another aspect of the band’s sound—namely, the lyrics.

mewithoutYou is not for everyone. If you need a beautiful singing voice or sweetly tuned instruments, I suggest you steer clear. But, if your sweet spot in music surrounds brilliantly deep lyrics, give Ten Stories a listen.

Verdict: 4 out of 5

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Posted by: Donovan Richards

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