Reflections: La Peste or The Plague
Title: La Peste (The Plague)
Author: Albert Camus
Medium: Book
Language: French
Motivation for reading: Recommended by a French speaking friend who said the book has been selling “comme des petits pains” (translates to selling “like hotcakes”) in Europe recently.
Reflections & Takeaways:
I try to mix it up by reading books in French. A Francophone friend recommended I read La Peste in the thick of the COVID-19 situation earlier this spring since the book had been selling out in Europe due to its relevance to the current situation. I also prefer to read in the language of origin — my options are English and French — and I figured I’d put it on my list of books to order since I did not think I’d find a copy in French in the local library. A few weeks later, I was perusing one of the little “free” libraries on T Street in northwest DC as I was heading over to my friend’s apartment to find myself holding a copy of Albert Camus’ La Peste in French. I couldn’t believe it!
Although Albert Camus seems to be better known for his novel L’Étranger (The Stranger) and his writings on existentialism and absurdism, La Peste is itself a classic and too significant of a novel for me to do it justice in trying to do any humble analysis here, but I will keep true to providing my personal reflections in the context of my life.
The novel was published in 1947, and tells the story of the city of Oran (Algeria) that finds itself in the middle of a plague. The story is narrated by one of the city’s residents but his identity isn’t revealed until the last chapter of the book. (I thought it was an interesting writing technique!) Even though there are differences between the book and today’s situation — an epidemic versus a pandemic — there are a few things that are unnervingly similar to what we are experiencing today. The city closes down and the citizens are forced to quarantine. No one can leave and no one can come in. In the States, we’ve not been prevented from moving around, but in other countries such as France, people were confined to their homes, required notes to run errands, and weren’t allowed to cross borders into neighboring countries; it remains to be seen what will happen in the next year.
It’s incredible to think that Albert Camus wrote a book that so closely portrays our currently reality, but it also made me realize that this situation we are living in is not unique and is not the first time and will not be the last. This book demonstrates the power of novels as they describe events that repeat themselves throughout humanity and across time; books teach us about experiences and how human existence and challenges are fundamentally the same trials human kind has faced in the past and will face in the future.
Albert Camus’ prose is beautiful. His style, diction, and language made me proud to be able to understand this beautiful language that I’m doubly proud to call my mother tongue. Not having read the English version, I couldn’t imagine how this one element of the novel could be preserved and conveyed in another language besides French.
Oran’s citizens are closed off to the rest of the world for close to a year. People die, and the city life is at a standstill as the future is uncertain and it tries to survives. I read somewhere that one of the themes of the novel is the shift from when survival of the group becomes more important than the individual. This is especially interesting as we witness how different countries and cultures deal with the pandemic. Everyone does it differently, reflecting the values of a local culture and community, and arguably with varying degrees of success. One concrete example is the attitudes towards the mask; To wear, or not to wear, that is the question.
There are two instances in my life prior to COVID-19 that I associate with a mask. The most recent being a work trip to Delhi, India in November 2019, when the city was hitting record pollution levels. But the first instance was when my mother would wear a mask when we traveled through airports. I remembered suppressing an inner anger at her for wearing it. In my mind, it was the equivalent of her marching through the airport with a megaphone announcing, “I’m sick!” to all fellow travelers, and it was a visual reminder to me that my mother was dying. As any kid ten years old, I don’t want to be reminded of mortality. The mask represented defeat, and I hated it for it.
Wearing a mask is inconvenient and I hate it as much as the next person, but today I do choose to wear it. Why? Because I respect my community and the individuals around me. I volunteer to accept this very minor inconvenience because the world isn’t all about me. These times, and this novel, are a good reminder of that.
Random books that I made connections with while reading this book:
L’Étranger (The Stranger) by Albert Camus (I haven’t read it yet, but it is on my list.)
