The Fall

Albert Camus

i thought that i hadn’t read all of this several years ago when it was one of the books in an existentialism class that i took, but it turns out that i just skimmed through a lot of it — which is pretty much what i did again this time.

most of the book is a monologue and the rest is one-sided dialogue between a french expatriate who meets another frenchman in a seedy bar in amsterdam and begins a mammoth confession, over several meetings. i like his recurring image of the cloudy sky of amsterdam as layers of doves and the earlier part of the book better, but the last third of the book just drags for me, now for the second time. at least i know not to pack this one.