I think I'll be done with all of Camus' fiction after I read this.

Camus is a renowned author, and his works have had a profound impact on literature and philosophy. Each of his fictional pieces offers unique insights into the human condition, exploring themes such as absurdity, freedom, and the search for meaning.

As I approach the end of this particular work, I can't help but reflect on the journey I've taken through Camus' fictional world. It has been a thought-provoking and enlightening experience, challenging my perspectives and making me question the nature of life.

Once I've completed this final piece, I'll have a comprehensive understanding of Camus' fictional oeuvre. I'm eager to see how this last work ties in with the others and what new revelations it will bring.

Overall, reading Camus' fiction has been a rewarding endeavor, and I'm excited to see what other literary treasures await me.

Pirette worked as a laborer on a farm in the Sahel, not far from Algiers. He brutally bludgeoned to death the farm owner and his three sons.

“Was it to steal?” asked Jacques, a young boy. “Yes,” said his uncle Étienne. “No,” said the grandmother, but without providing further explanations.

They found the mutilated corpses, the house splattered with blood up to the ceiling, and beneath one of the beds, the youngest son who was still breathing, but he would also die. And he had found the strength to write on the whitewashed lime wall, with a blood-stained finger: “It’s Pirette.”

They hunted down the assassin and found him intoxicated in the countryside. Public opinion, horrified, demanded the death penalty, which was not denied, and the execution took place in Algiers in front of the Barberousse prison, in the presence of a large crowd.

Jacques’ father got up in the middle of the night and went to witness the exemplary punishment of a crime that, according to the grandmother, had outraged him. But no one ever knew what had happened. It seemed that the execution had taken place without incident. But Jacques’ father returned extremely pale, went to bed, and got up several times to vomit and then lie back down. Subsequently, he never wanted to talk about what he had seen.

Childhood, shame, poverty, the sun, the teacher and the school... it's precious. So much good that Camus would have ended it all :(

Childhood is a time filled with wonder and exploration. The simple joys of playing in the sun, learning from a kind teacher in school, and experiencing the world around us are truly precious. However, for some, childhood can also be marked by shame and poverty, which can have a lasting impact on their lives.

Camus, a renowned philosopher and writer, perhaps understood the complex nature of life all too well. His works often explored themes of absurdity, suffering, and the search for meaning. It is a tragedy that someone who had so much to offer the world would end his life in such a way.

Nevertheless, we can still find inspiration in his words and ideas. We can strive to appreciate the beauty and preciousness of our own lives, despite the challenges and difficulties we may face. We can also work towards creating a more just and equitable society, where every child has the opportunity to grow up healthy, happy, and free from shame and poverty.

3.5,,, It occupied most of my time and I don't know, I couldn't concentrate at all. But maybe it's my problem, I don't know. I don't know. Well, it is still unfinished and I feel that way. But the different annotations by the author are really fascinating. JEJU And also, sometimes he forgot to change the surnames/names and left those real ones from his life??? I regret that a completed version didn't come into being. Even though it was boring, there were so many beautiful quotes in it and also the letters at the end were wonderful and touching ;((

Last passage pulled this up a star.

It was like the desperate scrawlings of childhood memories from someone who was completely bewildered.

We all are, at times, left wondering how the fuck we got here and what the hell it's all about.

That person's childhood memories seemed to be a jumble of confusion and chaos, as if they were grasping at straws trying to make sense of it all.

Their scrawlings were a testament to their inner turmoil and the struggle to find meaning in a world that often seems so random and unpredictable.

Perhaps through those memories, we can catch a glimpse of our own confusion and search for answers.

It serves as a reminder that we are all on this journey together, trying to figure out our place in the universe and make sense of our existence.

And maybe, just maybe, by sharing these memories and experiences, we can find a little bit of comfort and understanding in the chaos.

He, perhaps even more than she, because he had been born in a land without ancestors and without memories, where the anticipation of those who had prepared him had been even more complete and where old age did not find any of those shells of melancholy that it finds in civilized places. He, like a solitary theist and always an indeterminate wanderer, ready to be broken at any moment and forever, just a passion for living in the face of a full death. Today he felt that life, youth, and people were slipping from his hands without any salvation, and he was left only with the hope of the shock that this errant force that for so many years had risen above the stream of days, had nourished without teaching, had strengthened even in the most difficult circumstances, as it had given him countless reasons for living, would also give him reasons for growing old and dying without revolt.

He often thought about his past, the experiences that had shaped him. The hardships he had endured had made him stronger, but also more isolated. He longed for human connection, but was afraid of getting hurt. In this land of unknowns, he felt adrift, not knowing where he belonged or what his purpose was.

Despite his fears and uncertainties, he continued to move forward, driven by his passion for life. He knew that there was still much to discover and experience, and he was determined to make the most of every moment. Maybe one day, he would find the answers he was seeking, and finally find a place where he could truly call home.

I feel like I've been engrossed in this book for an eternity.

My main grievance with the book is its unfinished state. It is blatantly evident that this is a draft of a work in progress, lacking proper editing. Moreover, Camus' own notes are presented as footnotes. I was fully aware of all this before commencing my reading, yet it remained irksome.

The significance of its unfinished status cannot be overemphasized. Without some degree of editing and revision, the various components of the book fail to merge into a coherent story. As it stands, the book reads more like a collection of vignettes that range from the inconsequential to the epiphanous. I attempt to appreciate this oscillation between the mundane and the revelatory as a characteristic of the text. After all, this is how our lives unfold. In a sense, it makes perfect sense. However, the lack of cohesion still leaves me yearning for a more complete book.

Nevertheless, the book does an excellent job of delving into profound themes without the cynicism that pervades many of Camus' other works. This particular piece is not intended to be as intellectually demanding. Instead, it focuses on the real objects and events of daily life. Camus himself stated that he desired this book to be "heavy with things and flesh," and indeed it is. It explores the freedom of childhood, the nobility in poverty, family, the search for a father, and the process of growing up. "The First Man" has a great deal to offer. I simply wish it were better.

Although people claim that they respect the rights,

they will not yield to anything other than force.

This shows a rather concerning aspect of human nature.

It seems that in many situations, the true value of respecting rights is often overshadowed by the use of force or coercion.

We need to reflect on this and work towards a more just and peaceful society where rights are truly respected without the need for force.

Perhaps through education and awareness, we can change this mindset and create a world where people understand the importance of respecting the rights of others.

Only then can we hope to achieve true harmony and progress.

The book was good. It could have been even better on the condition that instead of the machine, which was a friend and publisher of his works, Camus went on a journey with the same train that accompanied his ticket! From the pages of the book, it was well understood that the writings needed review and revision, which unfortunately did not happen with the death of Camus.

An unfinished autobiography.

Overall, the story seems to hint at the potential that was left unfulfilled due to an unexpected event. The idea of Camus traveling on a specific train with his ticket adds an element of mystery and perhaps a sense of what could have been. The mention of the unfinished autobiography leaves the reader with a feeling of curiosity and a desire to know more about what Camus might have written had he lived.

It makes one wonder about the impact that his untimely death had on his literary works and how they might have evolved if he had had the opportunity to continue writing and revising.

OK, the hubby has never heard me say, "One of the best I've ever read," but he heard it when I finished this. Camus' other books that I recently read, such as The Stranger and The Fall, were both good and worthy of the five-star rating I gave them. However, in comparison, this one truly deserves ten stars.

It is about a man (since it is autobiographical, it's about Camus himself) who returns to the Algerian neighborhood where he grew up. He goes to see his mom, visits the grave of the father he never knew, and attempts to learn more about this mysterious father who passed away when he was only a baby. Then he tells the story of his youth. It is so poignant, so vivid, and so beautiful. Even the poverty in which he was raised, although certainly not beautiful in itself (poverty never is), is told from the perspective of the child who knows no other life and fully and joyously lives his own, rarely thinking about what he doesn't have but only about what he does.

The descriptions alone of his mom were so well-written that they took my breath away. The tragic part of this is that it mostly lacks an ending. Albert Camus died in a car accident when he was only in his forties, with the uncompleted manuscript of this in the back seat. It is so sad to think about what the world lost when it lost him. His writing was only getting stronger and better. One has to wonder what he would have written if he'd lived another twenty or thirty years. But back to the review: it is not very often that I can say HIGHLY RECOMMEND as enthusiastically as I do with this book!

Albert Camus is French. Albert Camus is cool. Yes, I really wrote that, and I'm happy to explain it. "The Stranger" is a book that belongs to my top 5, but I never bothered to look at how Camus actually looks.

Until now, when I picked up his autograph, I noticed that he is as charming as a seagull (T9 for "cyp" - LOL - like Ben Frost or Ryan Gosling, me or someone else). Although he is French, he definitely doesn't say things like "Today I'll cook a chicken, yum yum" and "This baguette is fantastic! Hee hee hee!" and doesn't act like a prude because that's how I imagine a French writer. Houellebecq, for example, is that kind of type at first glance - of course, this has no influence on his writing quality, but subconsciously a person associates sympathy for the creator with sympathy for his work. That's why every album released by Richard Krajčo is doomed to failure in advance.

The first part is, as mentioned, an autobiography, where Camus describes his childhood without a father who died in the war, with a mother who couldn't read, in a family that lived with a grandmother who was poor. The young Camus grew up in Algeria with other French people and they always had fun there, and although the family was poor, the young Camus was so smart that he got a scholarship to high school. Then the Nobel Prize and so on and so forth.

The whole problem with this book is that Camus didn't have time to finish writing it before his death and left only his notes, which his daughter took and published along with the work. Because of the money. In some chapters, there are footnotes that the author intended to expand on something, in other places to cross something out, and overall I was actually sorry that it was there because the final work would definitely look different. But I understand that it's silly to write something from the grave. Besides, the story isn't really entertaining and overall it's a three out of five.

Camus's work explores the unfavorable socioeconomic conditions that Algerian children face in childhood and the obstacles they need to overcome.

Camus himself didn't have an easy start in life. However, I think his greatest achievement with this book is to inspire those who read it to prevail, just like Jacques Cormery.

"He finds childhood and not the father. He discovers that he is the first man."

The role of teachers in the formation of great minds is highlighted in the book. Teachers play a crucial part in guiding and nurturing the young minds, helping them to navigate through the difficulties and challenges of life.

They provide the necessary knowledge and skills, as well as the moral and ethical guidance that is essential for the development of a well-rounded individual.

Camus's work serves as a reminder of the importance of education and the role that teachers play in shaping the future of our society.

It also emphasizes the need to address the socioeconomic inequalities that exist in our world and to provide equal opportunities for all children, regardless of their background or circumstances.

By doing so, we can ensure that every child has the chance to reach their full potential and make a positive contribution to society.