Zaretskys book appears to be an interesting read. I write read rather than listen as the narration is poor. It sounds mechanical and uneven with plenty of mispronunciation, almost as if read by a machine.
There are even parts where the reader has to repeat himself as he gets something wrong. The rhythm is particularly unnatural jolting and irritating. The result is that at times I found myself concentrating more on the poor reading than on what was being read, thus missing a great deal. My advice is either to buy the book as well as backup or simply buy the book and give the audio book a miss. Your audiobook is waiting…. Albert Camus: Elements of a Life. By: Robert Zaretsky.
Narrated by: Daniel Galvez II. Length: 5 hrs and 12 mins. People who bought this also bought Working By: Robert A. Caro Narrated by: Robert A. Caro Length: 7 hrs and 55 mins Unabridged Overall.
The Life and Writings of C. Publisher's Summary On October 16, , Albert Camus was dining in a small restaurant on Paris' Left Bank when a waiter approached him with news: the radio had just announced that Camus had won the Nobel Prize for Literature. The book was published by Cornell University Press. More from the same Narrator Mr. Dark 2 Mr.
Dark Mr. What members say Average Customer Ratings Overall. Amazon Reviews. Sort by:. Most Helpful Most Recent. Milner Probably a good book -- not a very good reader Any additional comments?
Good Quick Window Into His Life It was brief, but it touched on many salient points - about his life and his thinking, and his relationship to his thinking. Twinklyjan Stephen Cavill Good book impaired Zaretskys book appears to be an interesting read. He suggests, instead, that Camus was a writer who saw in him- self a moral obligation to speak out against the injustices of the world. In addition, Zaretsky compellingly writes: "Celebrity may have been thrust upon him, but Camus was not an accidental public intellectual.
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Peter Potter has, as always, gracefully balanced the demands of friendship and criticism. This is no less true of my wife, Julie Zaretsky: she knows how much I owe her. Despite their own busy lives, they read and reread the entire work, sharing their excitement and hesitations, encouragement and doubts, insights and corrections.
They made this a far better book than it otherwise would have been, and I alone am responsible for the remaining weaknesses.
For more than twenty years, my friend and mentor Ted Estess has shown those around him what it means to attend to the world and to others. I dedicate this book to him. We live with a few familiar ideas. Two or three, Albert Camus once wrote. We polish and transform them according to the societies and the men we happen to meet.
There is the idea of a Camus who probed the notions of freedom and justice, who reflected on the dangers of either notion becoming an absolute claim, and who tried to reconcile their conflicting characters. And there is the idea of a Camus who gave voice to an entire spectrum of silence: the silence of childhood innocence, the silence of the political prisoner or disenfranchised native, the silence of tragic conflicts, and the silence of a cosmos indifferent to our need for meaning.
These ideas about Camus not only constitute elements of his life but also explain the abiding relevance his work has for our lives.
Like many others of my generation, I first read Camus in high school. More recently, I have carried him into university classes that I have taught, coming out of them with a renewed appreciation for his art. While my admiration and attachment to his writings remain as great as they were long ago, the reasons are now more complicated and critical.
The quality of that struggle—engaged in with an intellectual integrity that led to a fortifying hopelessness—has marked all who have read him. If there is one conviction that scholars and nonscholars share, it is that Camus is still an indispensable companion in our intellectual and ethical lives. This book is neither a full biography nor a scholarly commentary. Given the importance of each of these moments, I take the liberty of moving back and forth across time and space in order to explore the many layers of its significance.
Moreover, I deliberately bring to the fore individuals and ideas that other accounts often leave in the background. Some of them, like Synge and Chamfort, gave Camus unexpected ways to express his own concerns; others, like the ancient Greeks, exerted a greater influence than is usually recognized. One other thinker, though not discussed in the book, is nevertheless present: Simone Weil. This elusive yet crucial human activity is not simply paying attention, drawing an object closer to us and placing it under a magnifying glass. Instead, it is stepping back and waiting for the object to draw closer to you.
It is apprehending the world and others, as free as possible from the psychological scrims our egos are forever building. Weil compared the attentive individual to a man on a mountain who, as he looks forward, sees also below him, without actually looking at them, a great many forests and plains.
When we attend to others, we tend to listen rather than talk. For this reason, the other side to the coin of attentiveness is silence. There are the silences that shimmer like mirages in the austere Algerian landscapes, and those in which so many of his characters are steeped as they regard the world.
"Like many others of my generation, I first read Camus in high school. I carried him in my backpack while traveling across Europe, I carried him into (and out of) . Albert Camus. Like many others of my generation, I first read Camus in high school. I carried him in my backpack while traveling across Europe, I carried him into.
There is also the silence in which Camus wrapped himself in the late s as French Algeria collapsed into war. Born in Algeria and raised with the values of republican France, Camus was torn between the competing and ultimately irreconcilable claims represented by French imperialism and Algerian nationalism.
Much noise has inevitably swirled around this silence ever since. So, too, for a different kind of silence that hovered over Camus during his last years.