Looking for the stranger : Albert Camus and the life of a literary classic /

There are plenty of solid biographies of Camus, so one may question the value of yet another venture into the well-worn landscape of études camusiennes. But this latest work from Kaplan (Yale) is nothing short of remarkable. In contrast to her predecessors, she provides not a biography of a man but a biography of a book. Centering on The Stranger as her object of inquiry, the author treats readers to a genuinely fresh take on the defining work of the quintessential Mediterranean humanist. In Kaplan's brisk, compelling narrative, The Stranger is not merely a literary landmark but also a character in its own right, haunting Camus in flashes: a chance viewing of Fernandel's Le Schpountz in an Algiers cinema; a dog-eared copy of James Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice; the stern admonitions of mentor Jean Grenier; hilltop vignettes in Algiers and Oran; a perilous journey across Nazi-occupied France. If there is a lesson to take from Kaplan's engaging and erudite text, it is that just as one must understand Camus to understand The Stranger, one must understand The Stranger to understand Camus. Summing Up: Highly recommended. Lower- and upper-division undergraduates, graduate students, general readers. --Lane Alan Wilkinson, University of Tennessee at Chattanooga

FRANCE HAS ALWAYS been the cynosure of the world's culture watch. What happens there has influenced philosophy and the arts throughout the world. Just why this is so is hard to say. But Stéphane Mallarmé's poetry and Albert Camus's prose fiction - notably the poem "One Toss of the Dice Never Will Abolish Chance" (1897) and the novel "The Stranger" (1942) - set the tone for much that followed. Now we have two new books about them: R. Howard Bloch's "One Toss of the Dice" and Alice Kaplan's "Looking for 'The Stranger.'" Each has a significant subtitle: Bloch's "The Incredible Story of How a Poem Made Us Modern," Kaplan's "Albert Camus and the Life of a Literary Classic." Despairingly, I defy anyone to fully explicate "Dice," whereas "Stranger" has already been analyzed to a fare-thee-well. Bloch's book is really two books. First, an account of Mallarmé's uneventful life as a not very stimulating English teacher, early on in the provinces and later in Paris, until a relieved early retirement and premature death in 1898 at the age of 56. This includes an introduction to his work, progressively more difficult, as well as amusing anecdotes about the man and his contemporaries. Second, a translation of "Dice," plus a dubious attempt to explicate the poem, and questionable claims for its influence on just about every major writer thereafter, including scientists and philosophers . We get a detailed interpretation of the 20-page "Dice" as translated by the noted American poet J. D. McClatchy, who unfortunately takes some minor liberties, as well as mistranslating "parages du vague" ("region of vagueness") as "region of waves." I wonder also about the title's rendering "A Throw" as the somewhat misleading "One Toss," perhaps just to differ from Gordon Millan's fine biography, correctly entitled "A Throw of the Dice." The poem employs everything from huge to tiny print, and is to be read across pairs of facing pages as single units, with the long title winding its way, word by single word, through the whole work. Much blank space surrounds the slender text, meant to evoke an all-embracing nothingness. It seems to involve a shipwreck, symbolizing the ultimate failure of a poem meant to be experienced as sound, meaning and look on the page. Mallarmé, like the alchemists, wanted to achieve the "great work," but, rather than to create gold, to transform the whole world into a book or poem. Bloch is to be congratulated on capturing pleasurably an entire era, largely through adducing a stream of mostly entertaining stories, some famous, some surprising. In the process, he also reveals an impressive erudition, covering a good many fields. All this radiating out from "Dice," which he calls both an epic poem and a masterpiece, though to my mind it is neither - rather a grandiose failure. I cannot resist quoting that charming writer Jules Renard: "Mallarmé's poetry is not translatable into any language, not even into French." Or the scholar-critic Charles Chassé: "The poet brings in an almost sadistic perversity to propel us onto false tracks." Even so, this was a very great poet, whose celebrated Tuesday open houses on the Rue de Rome drew to them famous writers from both France and abroad, to hang on the master's revered lips. Except for some travel in England to speak at the great universities, Mallarmé's trips were mostly confined to his Seine-side summer home at Valvins, not far from Paris, where he sailed his boat on the river or sauntered through the adjoining Forest of Fontainebleau. He had married Marie, a governess seven years older, whom he hoped to be English but who proved to be German. They had two children, the devoted Geneviève and the precocious Anatole, who died at the age of 8 and broke his parents' hearts. Probably the poet's greatest joy was in the vivacious Méry Laurent, his muse and possibly lover, to whom his single love poem is dedicated . Bloch's book reads engagingly, despite some flouting of syntax, a tad cavalier from a professor of French at Yale , More serious is the cockamamie misspelling of Degas, with an acute accent on the "e," creating what the French call dégât (damage) . ALICE KAPLAN IS a colleague of Bloch's in the Yale French department. Her book on Camus has a different flaw: endnotes wherein every often-recurring item is slavishly given its full title, source and date of publication each time, to stifling effect. What does immediately strike one about "Looking for 'The Stranger' " is the enormous research that produced it, from remote archives and elaborate interviews, no page left unturned, no possible voice unheard. This is particularly impressive because the novel not only underwent much rewriting, but also endured a complicated publishing history resembling a combined marathon run and hurdle race. For an impoverished young French Algerian who, by the age of 1, lost a father to the First World War; whose near-deaf servant mother had a vocabulary of 400 words; and whose barrel-maker uncle, with whom they lived, was equally deaf, it was truly remarkable that Albert Camus (1913-60) achieved what he did. Very helpful was Jean Grenier, his teacher at both lycée and university, himself a notable scholar, essayist and critic, remaining a lifelong friend and guide, although in later years, doubtless out of envy, a sometimes deflating carper. These were the times of two great upheavals, the Algerian war of liberation from France and World War II. The Nazi occupation of France forced publishers into various places of exile, and writers to endure sundry forms of censorship and staggering delays. Add to this that Camus at 17 incurred tuberculosis, in those days incurable, and inducing even a later crippling relapse , And then there were economic and political problems, as well as a temperamental restlessness that had him continually changing domiciles. Through most of it he wore his trademark, the light-colored trench coat, a perennial attribute, a late version of which Blanche Knopf, co-founder of his American publisher, Alfred A. Knopf, had made for him especially by Brooks Brothers. He was, he said, a mixture of Fernandel (the horsefaced French film comic), Humphrey Bogart (apropos the trench coat) and a samurai (probably referring to his dangerous underground Resistance activities ). Camus was a gifted student (as well as enthusiastic soccer player and actordirector in various theatrical groups), and his thesis on the Hellenic influence of Plotinus on St. Augustine and Christianity was typical of his education, as were intensive readings in major modern French and other writers. His field was philosophy, but, after many desperation jobs, he landed as a journalist for the liberal Alger-Républicain. This had him covering, among other things, trials, which came in handy for "The Stranger." An earlier novel was a flop, though its protagonist, Mersault, was a precursor of the feeling-challenged hero of "The Stranger," Meursault. The added "u" was probably derived from the name of a fine French wine . His first marriage, to Simone Hié, a morphine addict from initially analgesic use, ended within a year, what with mutual infidelities; all his life, Camus was a passionate womanizer, attracted by and attractive to the ladies. He accrued women almost like domiciles; early on, he inhabited at least six homes in five years. This did not change much with the happier second marriage to petite and delicate Francine Faure, math teacher and classical pianist, with whom he was to have two children . For years he was an editor at the prestigious Paris-Soir, and went with it into war-induced exile from Paris to other cities, including burgs like Clermont-Ferrand - the French paradigm for the sticks. Money problems impelled the young marrieds to go live with Francine's family in Oran, a city that bored him unto distraction. With encouragement from André Malraux, the editor Jean Paulhan, Henry de Montherlant and others, and eventually an uneasy relationship with the publisher Gaston Gallimard, who had helped found the influential Nouvelle Revue Française, "The Stranger" finally crawled toward publication. Especially important was the published endorsement by Jean-Paul Sartre, in association with whom he shared acclaim as an existentialist philosopher, although he denied being such. They parted company disagreeing over the Algerian revolt, which Camus curiously opposed, and over Sartre's Communism, a party membership that Camus briefly espoused but soon bitterly rejected. Camus's philosophy was absurdism, expounded in such books as "The Myth of Sisyphus," "The Rebel" and other writings, including even some of his several powerful plays. It consisted of recognition of nature's total indifference to the human individual, who nevertheless had to take up arms against the world in the face of inevitable defeat. Without neglecting other things, Kaplan concentrates on "The Stranger" and dwells on Camus's adherence to and emulation of American novels by Faulkner and Hemingway and especially James M. Cain's "The Postman Always Rings Twice," which upended the style and history of French fiction. She also performs a useful demonstration of the failings of Stuart Gilbert's predominant English translation, and chronicles, often amusingly, the afterlife of "The Stranger" (titled in England "The Outsider"), long considered pornographic in America, censored and even landing a teacher in jail. But also becoming very popular with students such as hers at Yale. I only wish she would not write "neither . . . or," "different than" and "nervewracking," now largely but incorrectly accepted as interchangeable with the logical "nerve-racking." She is also a trifle bizarre at times, as in such statements as Camus being "handsome, but not so handsome as to be uninteresting," or insistence that the name Meursault implies death in the first syllable and a leap in the second. Tragic was Camus's death at 46, crashing in a car not driven by him, but consonant with his near-constant laudable forward impetus. How unlike was the demise of Mallarmé, who fell to his knees pathetically clutching his doctor's legs. Each man was great in his way, and each has a worthy interpreter in Yale's French department. One envies their students. Finally, a sample from each master. From "One Toss of the Dice": The lucid and lordly aigrette of vertigo on the invisible brow scintillates then shadows a delicate dark form upright in its sea siren's sinuosity time enough to slap with impatient terminal scurf forked a rock. And the opening paragraph of "The Stranger": "Today, Maman died. Or perhaps yesterday, I don't know. I received a telegram from the home: 'Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Our best regards.' That means nothing. It might have been yesterday." JOHN SIMON is a longtime critic of the arts. His books include "The Sheep From the Goats: Selected Literary Essays."

Kaplan's (Dreaming in French, 2012) brilliantly crafted, thoroughly researched, and utterly engaging investigation into Albert Camus' The Stranger combines biography, literary history, and close reading to chronicle its journey from nearly abandoned manuscript to first publication and tepid reception to, finally, widespread recognition. Kaplan expertly situates Camus' rise as a writer at the heart of emerging European crises during the 1930s and '40s, from radical shifts in public opinion to increasing opposition to colonial occupation and the terrifying ascent of Nazi Germany. She draws on Camus' correspondence, newspapers, and literary reviews as well as the novel itself. The result is a riveting history of the novel's genesis, from its author's early days as a tubercular journalist struggling to make ends meet to his glamorous association with intellectual legends like Jean-Paul Sartre, Jacques Lacan, and Pablo Picasso. Kaplan concludes with The Stranger's lasting impact on literature by pointing to The Meursault Investigation (2015), a recent novel by Algerian writer Kamel Daoud, which retells Camus' novel from the point of view of an Arab whose brother was murdered by Camus' protagonist.--Báez, Diego Copyright 2016 Booklist

Kaplan (Dreaming in French), a professor of French at Yale, persuasively retells the story of writer Albert Camus and his classic first novel, The Stranger. She explores Camus's inspirations and influences (including James M. Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice), themes, and distinctive writing style. She also charts the feedback he received from mentors and from literary lions such as André Malraux. The road to publication was made difficult by WWII, which created impediments such as a shortage of quality paper and German-imposed censorship. However, Camus was bolstered by the support of the French intellectual and publishing elite, who were intrigued by the emergence of a new talent from a poor neighborhood in Algiers. Most fascinating are the chapters recounting the years after The Stranger's 1942 publication, as the novel's popularity took it well beyond Camus's grasp. Kaplan provides fascinating tidbits of information, such as why the novel is called The Outsider in the U.K., and explains how this seemingly simple story became a prime example of French literature to be examined, dissected, and loved by readers, students, and teachers for generations. (Oct.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

Kaplan (French, Yale Univ.; Dreaming in French) notes that Albert Camus's The Stranger, a coming-of-age story typically read in high school or introductory college courses, is often taken for granted, despite its literary significance. The author addresses this oversight with this title, which she designates a biography of the work. Kaplan examines the evolution of The Stranger from its inception when Camus struggled with the writing to its publication in 1942 and eventual acceptance into the French literary canon. It became the highest-selling paperback in French publishing history and contributed to Camus's Nobel Prize win. The well-researched analysis considers the various elements that influenced the prose, including Camus's educational background, his experiences in colonial Algerian courtrooms, and his witnessing a beach brawl similar to the one described in the novel (that fortunately did not result in a murder). Kaplan's description of the route the manuscript took to reach publishers in occupied France is particularly fascinating, as is the chapter in which she finds the family of the Arabic man involved in the scuffle that Camus witnessed decades before. VERDICT This engrossing book will attract readers interested in 20th-century French literature.-Erica Swenson Danowitz, Delaware Cty. Community Coll. Lib., Media, PA © Copyright 2016. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.