Whenever I reread what I've written, I notice the writing patterns I adopt. The tone ranges from neutral to introspective, the themes range from the didactic ideological to self-reflection. Sometimes I mildly rant and rile but come back to a point of stability. I like the tone. I also cannot say that I do not... Continue Reading →
The Plague – Albert Camus
Reading Albert Camus is a rite of passage into adulthood in France. Or so I read. If life is a journey, then reading Camus is equivalent to embarking on the journey with a cartographic cartoon. A sketch of a smiley face. If the traveler is intrepid he will journey on nevertheless. If he is a settler he will settle. It is a simple and powerful... Continue Reading →
The Stranger – Third Party Life
"Mother died today. Or maybe, yesterday. I can't be sure" Opening sentences that capture the essence of a writing are rare. Camus' opening lines conveys so much meaning to the reader that in all truthfulness a meditation on that sentence would itself provide so much insight into The Stranger. The detachment, so apparent in the... Continue Reading →
You must be logged in to post a comment.