I've always had a complex and conflicting set of feelings when it comes to Camus. On one hand, he can be seen as a rather naive political writer. However, I've constantly felt a sense of unease with my own judgment of this naiveté. There are moments when I suspect that in his perception of the world, he might have achieved a higher form of naiveté, the kind that belongs to wise men and the thinking faithful. It's possible that he truly did understand more sophisticated views, yet also recognized them for what they really were: sophistic.

There are numerous instances that strengthen this impression. For example, when moral questions arising from recent events (such as shootings, bombings, and the climate disaster – the usual suspects) make a profound impact on you, and when the world presents itself in its most blatant and unsubtle terms, it can be extremely beneficial to be reminded that the pursuit of subtlety and nuance (as seen in the countless pieces written by Eggers, Saunders, and many others about the humanity of a particular group of racist conservatives, as if this were some great revelation, as if a sin could only be committed by a human) is often more like self-absorption than a genuine search for truth.

Nevertheless, I don't particularly enjoy the essays in this book. On most days, I find myself thinking that Camus was indeed just naive in the ordinary sense of the word. If the essays are somewhat edifying, it is more as tools and reminders rather than as exemplary works of thought or true essais in the sense of Montaigne, exploring unknown moral, intellectual, or humanistic realms. These pieces are not subtle or engaging. They don't probe deeply into anything and deal with absolutes rather than dilemmas. As a result, I can't wholeheartedly recommend the book. But I would like to, and that fact should speak in its favor.

It's a strange phenomenon to simultaneously believe that a writer and his work have been of utmost importance to you and your moral growth, perhaps only due to a thousand coincidences in your personal history, and at the same time understand that if you were to encounter him for the first time now, you would hardly give him a second look. People often discuss coming to books too early to fully appreciate them, but what about coming too late? Fortunately, I discovered him at precisely the right time, and for this reason, I wouldn't deter anyone from exploring his work. Maybe it's the right time for you too. Come in, there are treasures here. Just make sure you find the first part to your liking before you decide to stay.

Albert Camus, in his work “Resistance, Rebellion and Death,” delves deep into the dehumanizing nature of any form of killing.

Even what society deems as just killing, such as the death penalty, is not exempt from this dehumanization. It affects not only the individual being put to death but also, and perhaps more significantly, the one carrying out the act.

Camus, a man with a profound heart and a strong conscience, was unafraid to speak the hard truths to both the leftist atheist and the right-wing religious fundamentalist.

In this work, he passionately argues for the dignity of human life. His words are not only thought-provoking but also a call to action.

I have had the privilege of reading most of Camus’s books, and he has rightfully earned his place as one of my favorite authors. His works are not only literary masterpieces but also a source of profound philosophical insights.

“Resistance, Rebellion and Death” is indeed a good read, one that forces us to confront the harsh realities of our world and the importance of upholding the dignity of every human life.

This book neatly encapsulates Camus’ conscious mind. It is yet another collection of his essays regarding war, the death penalty, and the role of an artist, penned in his later years, just before his untimely demise in 1960. Camus’ works are replete with his irreducible duality, which he termed absurdity. However, this particular book appears to clarify the lines, enabling him to delve deeper into his own heart. These essays are profoundly compassionate.

I would also concur with Charles Moeller when he asserted about Camus that “Camus’ atheism is more of a rejection of God than the impossibility of God.” This is also patently evident in this book, all without resorting to verbal aggression.

Camus’ exploration of these complex themes in this collection offers readers a unique perspective into his philosophical musings and his attempt to make sense of the human condition in a world that often seems absurd and unjust.

Albert Camus was a remarkable writer with a fine soul and an extraordinary command of words and ideas that many of us can only dream of possessing. This collection clearly showcases how he deserved to win the Nobel Peace Prize. However, while I appreciate this work, I have to admit that I have a personal preference for his other lengthier philosophical essays such as "Myth of Sisyphus" and "The Rebel", which delve deeply into the 20th-century human condition. This collection, on the other hand, feels more fragmented, lacking the same depth and incisiveness, and at times, it seems less relevant.

The first section, "Resistance", is truly moving. The part that deals with the German occupation and the French resistance is definitely worth the price of the book or a visit to the library. I have no criticism to offer regarding this section.

The middle section about Algeria and terrorist rebellion is less engaging. Although I'm not an expert on post-colonialism, I'm concerned that the depictions of what the future of French Algeria should look like may not have aged well. There is a lot of emphasis on cooperation between the two sides, but less on the reparations that need to be made. Independence is rejected, and the idea of a "both sides-ism" approach to the conflicts in a colonial settler state seems inappropriate today. Nevertheless, what makes this section a valuable read is the autobiographical subtext, the story of Camus' strained relationship with the intellectual community over the issue of Algeria. The sequence of essays and speeches shows him losing hope and friends, which is poignant regardless of the reader's views.

The final section, a lengthy dismissal of the arguments for the death penalty, is well-reasoned and passionate. However, of all three sections, it feels the least relevant today. Resistance to fascism and rebellion in the third world are still relevant issues, but the death penalty, despite America's stubbornness and political inaction, is already a dying issue in the civilized world. The arguments Camus presents against it are thoughtful, but not particularly challenging. This section lacks the moral force of the others simply because capital punishment is already on its way out. Or perhaps that's just my own opinion.

In conclusion, I would recommend this book, but I didn't fall in love with it. In some parts, it is truly sublime, while in others, it is a bit of a letdown. Still, it is a disappointment written by a beautiful soul.

Resistance, Rebellion, and Death by Albert Camus is a remarkable compilation that encompasses his newspaper columns, essays, lectures, speeches, letters, and interview transcripts spanning from 1944 to 1957. The focus here is predominantly on political, sociological, or cultural aspects rather than pure philosophy. Three specific topics within this work truly captivated my attention.

During the Nazi occupation of Paris, Camus, despite suffering from tuberculosis, served as the editor-in-chief of the underground resistance newspaper Combat. His act of writing and publishing was a form of resistance in itself, considering the inherent dangers. This collection features four essays in the form of letters to a former German friend who had turned into a Nazi zealot. In these letters, Camus delves into the reasons behind France's initial reactions and lack thereof to the threat and subsequent invasion. He also speculates on why his friend and Germany as a whole fell in line behind Hitler. This has always been a mystery to me as well. How could Germany, a nation renowned for its scholarship, science, and art, descend into Nazism within a few short years? Camus addresses this question from the front lines of the battle for the European soul. His insights and reflections are not only profound but also applicable to numerous situations where civilization is oppressed or endangered by various 'isms' throughout history and even today.

The long-standing tension between French Algerians and Arab Algerians finally erupted into civil war, known as the Algerian War, in 1954. Camus, a French Algerian by birth and upbringing, loved both his native land and France deeply. The outbreak of war was truly heart-wrenching for him. He made repeated efforts to promote dialogue and reconciliation. When that failed, he sought to broker a ceasefire, and when that too proved unsuccessful, he at least advocated for a pledge not to target civilians. The essays, letters, and speeches in this collection document his sincere attempts to end the indiscriminate violence and push for reconciliation. Sadly, all his efforts were in vain, and he passed away two years before the fighting concluded. He would have been devastated by the ultimate outcome - a million French people fleeing Algeria as refugees. I was deeply moved by his selfless dedication to the cause of reconciliation and peace, which showcases a man actively involved in the political and social movements of his community and country.

The collection also includes essays on the artist in his time, with the most famous being Create Dangerously, The Power and Responsibility of the Artist. Camus firmly rejects the idea of "art for art's sake" and the notion of the artist being detached from society. He also dismisses the concept that artists should merely mirror society, arguing that "If it [art] adapts itself to what the majority of our society wants, art will be a meaningless recreation." Instead, he contends that "The time of irresponsible artists is over." An artist who recognizes attacks on human liberty cannot remain silent; he must make a choice, take a stance, and express it forcefully. While I found it challenging to fully concur with all his ideas about art and culture, it's important to note that Camus' life experiences, shaped by Nazism, World War II, and Communism, inevitably influenced his thinking on the role and purpose of art and culture.

In Resistance, Rebellion, and Death, we catch a glimpse of another facet of Camus, the novelist and philosopher. We encounter a Camus who is fully engaged in society and political struggle, committed to personal freedom, and unafraid to put himself at risk for the cause. We see his outrage at the attacks on freedom in Franco's Spain and during the Hungarian uprising. We also witness his concern over the rise of nationalism and totalitarianism worldwide in the 1950s. Camus writes that he "loathes" the world, yet he refuses to succumb to despair and nihilism. He believes that existence may lack inherent meaning, but that man must create his own meaning. As demonstrated in this collection of essays, this means, in part, actively engaging with the world and its struggles.

I would have assigned a higher rating to this volume if not for the translation, which was less accessible compared to other translations of Camus that I have read.

In this collection of essays, you’ll encounter a diverse range of perspectives.

Some essays will resonate deeply with you, while others may not strike the same chord.

After delving into some of Albert Camus’ other works, it becomes fascinating to observe him “playing” himself in these essays.

You can witness how his philosophy unfolds in practical real-world scenarios that he lived through.

My personal favorite among these essays is the last one, “Create Dangerously.”

Here, Camus expounds on his ideas regarding art.

He explores how others perceive and utilize art, both for good and for ill.

There is also a discussion on the tension between representing reality and the inherent fact that art can never truly be reality.

When compared to a less philosophically and politically charged work on art like the popular book “The Creative Act,”

it becomes evident that they share some common ground on the definition of art.

However, Camus is more preoccupied with the role that the artist plays.

He posits that art is not the artist’s one-sided monologue but a dialogue.

This dialogue is not intended to convince or “win” but rather to understand.

Camus concludes with the view that the creative acts of many, which negate frontiers and the crudest implications of history, hold the key to any hope for the future.

This赋予了艺术一个比大多数人所赋予的更宏大的目的，但我认为这对于艺术的追求是最鼓舞人心的。

"Reflections on the Guillotine" is an extraordinarily remarkable, challenging, and intelligent essay. It delves deep into profound themes and makes readers think critically about various aspects.

"Create Dangerously" remains as relevant today as it was in 1957. It seems to prove that time is like a flat circle, and we continuously repeat the past, albeit through new mediums. This essay offers valuable insights into the human condition and the role of art and creation in a changing world.

"Bread and Freedom" is essential reading in a world where the word freedom has been so distorted and convoluted. It helps us to reevaluate and understand the true meaning of freedom in the context of our modern lives.

However, the essays on Algeria are weak and rooted in idealism. I believe that colonialism, as an unequivocal wrong, is a bit more clear cut than what he presents. These essays may lack the depth and nuance required to fully understand the complex history and issues surrounding colonialism in Algeria.

Overall, these essays offer a diverse range of perspectives and ideas, some of which are truly thought-provoking, while others may require further examination and analysis.

How can any mortal write this well?

This is a question that often comes to mind when we encounter truly remarkable writing.

The ability to craft words in such a way that they touch the heart, inspire the mind, and leave a lasting impression is a rare and precious gift.

Some may argue that it is a combination of natural talent and years of practice.

Others may believe that it is a result of a deep understanding of the human condition and the ability to express complex emotions and ideas in a simple and accessible way.

Regardless of the source, one thing is certain: great writing has the power to change the world.

It can inspire social change, spark creativity, and bring people together.

So the next time you read something that makes you think, feel, or dream, take a moment to appreciate the skill and artistry of the writer.

And who knows, maybe one day you too will be able to write something that will make others ask, "How can any mortal write this well?"

As a die-hard Camus fan, this particular incident or experience truly made me appreciate and understand more deeply his political side. Camus, with his profound insights and unique perspectives, has always been a figure who intrigues and challenges.

His political views were not simply black and white but rather a complex tapestry of ideas and beliefs. Through this newfound appreciation, I began to see how his political stance influenced his works and vice versa.

It was as if a new door had opened, allowing me to explore a different dimension of his genius. I delved deeper into his writings, analyzing the political undertones and messages he was trying to convey.

This exploration not only enhanced my understanding of Camus as a writer but also broadened my own political awareness. I found myself questioning my own beliefs and values, inspired by Camus' courage to take a stand and express his views in a world that was often divided and conflicted.

Overall, this newfound appreciation for Camus' political side has been a transformative experience, enriching my literary and intellectual journey.

Camus' insights are truly remarkable, particularly in the specific areas of Algiers and the death penalty.

In the context of Algiers, Camus was able to capture the essence of the city and its people with great depth. His descriptions and analyses offer a unique perspective on the social, cultural, and political aspects of this place.

When it comes to the death penalty, Camus' thoughts are equally profound. He delved into the moral, ethical, and legal implications of this practice, challenging the commonly held beliefs and assumptions.

Overall, Camus' work in these areas is a testament to his intellectual prowess and his ability to see beyond the surface. His insights continue to resonate today and serve as a source of inspiration for those who seek a deeper understanding of the human condition.

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‘It is merely that we didn’t give the same meaning to the same words; we no longer speak the same language. Words always take on the colour of the deeds or the sacrifices they evoke.’

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You are either with Camus or Sartre, aren't you? Two-timing both seems rather strange, doesn't it? But who am I to judge? Regardless, I have always been on Team Camus and still am. Reading this text just reconfirms and reminds me of that. I think this is a 'lite' version or at least a more easily digestible presentation of the core ideas of The Rebel. It's a great introduction to Camus' political stance among his other views such as those on France, Algeria, 'art', and so on. Notably, it was precisely this difference in political stance that wrecked his friendship with Sartre. Anyway, I can never bring myself to finish anything written by Sartre, which should say enough.


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‘In the battles of our time I have always been on the side of the obstinate, on the side of those who have never despaired of a certain honour. I have shared and I still share many of the contemporary frenzies. But I have never been able to get myself to spit, as so many others do, on the word “honour.” Doubtless because I was and am aware of my human weaknesses and of my injustices, because I instinctively knew and still know that honour (like pity) is an unreasonable virtue that takes the place of justice and reason, which have become powerless. The man whose blood, extravagances, and frail heart lead him to the commonest weaknesses must rely on something in order to get to the point of respecting himself and hence of respecting others. This is why I loathe a certain self-satisfied virtue. I loathe society’s dreadful morality because it results, exactly like absolute cynicism, in making men despair and in keeping them from taking responsibility for their own life with all its weight of errors and greatness.’

‘I confess, insofar as I am concerned, that I cannot love all humanity except with a vast and somewhat abstract love. But I love a few men, living or dead, with such force and admiration that I am always eager to preserve in others what will someday perhaps make them resemble those I love. Freedom is nothing else but a chance to be better, whereas enslavement is a certainty of the worst.’

‘Sometimes on a street corner, in the brief intervals of the long struggle that involves us all, I happen to think of all those places in Europe I know well. It is a magnificent land moulded by suffering and history. I relive those pilgrimages I once made with all the men of the West: the roses in the cloisters of Florence, the gilded bulbous domes of Krakow, the Hradschin and its dead palaces, the contorted statues of the Charles Bridge over the Ultava, the delicate gardens of Salzburg. All those flowers and stones, those hills and those landscapes where men’s time and the world’s time have mingled old trees and monuments—My memory has fused together such superimposed images to make a single face, which is the face of my true native land.

And then I feel a pang when I think that, for years now, your shadow has been cast over that vital, tortured face. Yet some of those places are ones that you and I saw together. It never occurred to me then that someday we should have to liberate them from you. And even now, at certain moments of rage and despair, I am occasionally sorry that the roses continue to grow in the cloister of San Marco and the pigeons drop in clusters from the Cathedral of Salzburg, and the red geraniums grow tirelessly in the little cemeteries of Silesia.—But at other moments, and they are the only ones that count, I delight in this. For all those landscapes, those flowers and those ploughed fields, the oldest of lands, show you every spring that there are things you cannot choke in blood. That is the image on which I can close.’

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The debate between Camus and Sartre has been a significant one in the intellectual world. Their different perspectives on various issues, especially politics, led to a rift in their friendship. Camus' stance on honour, freedom, and his love for specific individuals and places are all expressed vividly in these passages. His view that honour is an important virtue, despite its unreasonableness, and that freedom is a chance for improvement is thought-provoking. The descriptions of the European landscapes he knows and the emotions they evoke add a personal and emotional touch to his writing. It makes the reader wonder about their own attachments and the impact of larger forces on the things they hold dear.

I picked up this book and was almost instantly in tears.

It commences with four Letters to a German Friend, which are editorial pieces that Camus penned anonymously in 1943 - 44. These were written to advocate for the Resistance and oppose Nazism. In them, Camus grapples with the moral and intellectual odyssey that numerous Europeans had embarked upon over the previous few years. How does one justify taking up arms? “For it is not much to be able to do violence when you have been simply preparing for it for years and when violence is more natural to you than thinking. It is a great deal, on the other hand, to face torture and death when you know for a fact that hatred and violence are empty things in themselves. It is a great deal to fight while despising war, to accept losing everything while still preferring happiness, to face destruction while cherishing the idea of a higher civilization.” Camus writes, “We had much to overcome - and, first of all, the constant temptation to emulate you.”

These letters strike a chord as I and countless others have struggled, especially in the past several years, with how to combat white nationalism, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, misogyny, and the like. How does one respond to those who choose senseless violence without forfeiting one's own belief in justice, truth, peace, and kindness? Particularly when it appears that loss after loss is happening and we are falling further and further behind? “We had to make a long detour, and we are far behind. It is a detour that regard for truth imposes upon intelligence, that regard for friendship imposes upon the heart. It is a detour that safeguarded justice and put truth on the side of those who questioned themselves. And without a doubt, we paid dearly for it. […] But that was natural. It took us all that time to find out if we had the right to kill men, if we were allowed to add to the frightful misery of the world.”

Reading these letters instilled hope in me and reminded me that many others have grappled with the same questions that we face today.

Some other notable quotes, mainly from later writings also included in the book, are:

“When fighting for your truth, you must take care not to kill it with the very arms you are using to defend it.”

“…there is no possible evolution in a totalitarian society. Terror does not evolve except toward a worse terror, the scaffold does not become any more liberal, the gallows are not tolerant. Nowhere in the world has there been a party or a man with absolute power who did not use it absolutely.”

“If absolute truth belongs to anyone in this world, it certainly does not belong to the man or party who claims to possess it. When historical truth is involved, the more anyone claims to possess it the more he lies. In the final analysis, he becomes the murderer of truth.”

“But the law’s final justification is in the good it does or fails to do to the society of a given place and time.”