Author: Daniel Harding. Daniel is a recent graduate from UCL and Queen Mary’s University of London with a master’s in the history of political thought and intellectual history. He is currently an English language teacher in Phrae, Thailand. His main intellectual interests span the broad history of ideas.

In her introductory note to Camus’ Le Premier homme (‘The First Man’) Catherine Camus, Albert Camus’ daughter, described her father as a ‘very reserved man.’[1] She further states that besides the obvious fact that he had not completed the novel, Camus’ would not have published the manuscript in the form we see it today as he ‘would no doubt have masked his own feelings far more in its final version.’ The manuscript found at the site of his death would not be published until 1994. Catherine Camus explains the rationale behind delaying the publishing of this manuscript following his death, noting Camus’ unpopular political position at the time of his death, having become a target of both the Left and the Right in France, and thus arguing that publishing an incomplete manuscript would have perhaps added fuel to the waves of criticism that Camus had faced before his death.

Camus’ untimely death in 1960 (at age 46) came at a time when the pied-noir (a term for French-Algerians, literally meaning “black feet”) had somewhat retreated from public intellectual life. Having received the Noble Prize for Literature in 1957, Camus’ uncompromising moral stances, particularly his critique of Soviet communism and his precarious stance towards Algeria and its revolutionary war for independence, ostracized Camus from all sides of the political spectrum and rendered him a political outsider in post-War France by the time of his death. This isolation was particularly solidified by his famous, and well-documented, fallout with Jean-Paul Sartre. Despite the disapproval of many of his contemporaries, Camus’s legacy as a seminal voice against the nihilism that pervaded the twentieth century has resulted in him remaining one of the most popular thinkers of the last century.

Given his popularity, Camus’ legacy becomes a particularly hard one to define. Perhaps best remembered for his philosophy of the absurd, or more accurately put: the paradox of the absurd, Camus’ famous declaration that ‘one must imagine Sisyphus happy’[2] has provided a timeless sentiment in humanity’s struggle against the silent indifference of the world. For others, Camus is best recalled as a journalist, novelist, or political activist. The myriad ways in which we can discuss and recall Camus and his works is a testament to their quality and breadth, and most importantly to the fact that they connect with us on a fundamentally human level as they illuminate our Sisyphean struggles. Whilst novels like L’Étranger and La Peste and essays such as Le myth de Sisyphe and L’Homme révolté occupy the bulk of inquiry into Albert Camus, his personal writings, such as his American Journals (Journaux de voyage) and “Nuptials at Tipasa” have not received such popular or critical attention. Whilst Le Premier homme was a best seller upon release in 1994, it too has not received as much scholarly attention as Camus’ other more philosophically dense writings. 

In this article, I am hoping to shed further light on such less well-read aspects of Camus’s oeuvre. The purpose of this is not to only highlight the worthwhileness of reading these but also to show the importance of reading the more personal writings of Camus to provide a more holistic understanding of his ideas. In essence, if we were to reread the popular novels and philosophical or political essays of Camus having read his personal writings beforehand one may be able to develop a new, more rich and deep understanding of Albert Camus’ work. Furthermore, Camus’ personal writings not only enrich our understanding of his philosophy but also reveal the profoundly human struggles that underlie his abstract ideas. Whilst books such as L’Étranger will forever remain as a timeless classic and cornerstone of absurdist philosophy, novels and personal writings such as Le Premier homme provide an insight into the man, his times and his ideas. Thus, in this article, I will briefly discuss a few of the most impactful personal writings from Camus that I deem to provide valuable insight into Camus’ personal life whilst also being relevant to his broader philosophical works. Hence, I will highlight a few texts that I think to be not only an enjoyable read by virtue of their prose and content but also provide a meaningful glimpse into the life of Camus and his philosophy, be that of the absurd or his political stances. I will also illuminate how his personal writings are deeply intertwined and connected to his ideas and their evolution.

From Algeria to the Absurd: A Brief Exploration of Le Premier homme

In discussing the personal aspect of Camus’ writings, none of his major works of fiction stands out more than Le Premier homme. This is perhaps due to the fact that it is not truly a work of fiction but rather an autobiographical novel. Documenting Jacques Cormery as he returns to his native Algeria and reflects on his childhood, Le Premier homme is a novel which gives a profound insight into Camus’ upbringing, his childhood poverty, his love for his illiterate mother, his fondness of Algeria, his harsh grandmother and more. Le Premier homme, which Camus claimed would be his masterpiece, represents a radical departure from the reserved nature of Camus’ previous novels. From the indifferent nature of Meursault in L’Étranger to the confessions of Clamence in La Chute and the Kafkaesque tone of La Peste, Camus’ works have generally been defined by a reserved, impersonal tone that seeks to illuminate the absurdity of the human condition. Le Premier homme is a text rich with physical descriptions of the land, the sun and the sea, even more so than typical in Camus’ writings. Perhaps the most striking thing about this novel though is just how personal it is. With an in-depth recollection of key points during his childhood, such as the mentorship of his teacher that allowed him to attend the lycée, Le Premier homme is best seen as Camus’ attempt to confront his past as he reflects upon poverty-ridden boyhood in his native Algeria. The crisis of identity that Jacques Cormery experiences in the novel is one that Camus continually grappled with throughout his life as a pied-noir. Having left a life of poverty in Algeria to become a respected writer in France, Camus often looks back on Algeria nostalgically. Camus’ fondness for Algeria is explicit in Le Premier homme as well as in his other personal writings, notably his Algerian Chronicles and L’Eté (Summer). A love that was never truly mutual, Camus was always an outsider in his native Algeria and his deep affection for the land and its people was never fully reciprocated. Mistrusted by Arabs as a French coloniser and by some French settlers because of his belief in equality for the Arabs, Camus felt isolated by his torn identity and his love for a country plagued by division and violence in his later years. Neither fully at home when in France, Camus’ Le Premier homme elucidates the root cause of his plagued identity that troubled him throughout his life as he never knew what side of the Mediterranean to call home.

Le Premier homme is essential reading for anyone of interest in Camus, not only because of its beautiful prose, but more so because it uncovers significant insights into Camus’ psychology that would permeate his works and ideas throughout his career. An example of this is the issue of identity as previously mentioned: his affection for Algeria, its beauty and its poverty, is a theme that underlies much of Camus’ writings. It is not just a complex relationship with Algeria that is highlighted in this novel though, as Camus’ relationship with his family is a key theme throughout the novel, and the lack of one with his father is an obvious source of discontentment. At the start of this novel, Jacques Cormery (who represents Camus himself) sets out on a sort of pilgrimage to learn about his father, who he never knew due to his death in WW1 serving on the front lines in France. Cormery visits the grave of his father and for the first time feels a sort of closeness with him and an urge to learn who this man was. His illiterate mother and grandmother told him very little of his father to Jacques during his childhood resulting in an estrangement between the two, not only by the father’s absence from his childhood but also by the absence of his memory in the family’s lives. In essence, Jacques’ father is another nameless dead soldier produced by the scourge of war, or as Camus puts it his father ‘had died unknown on this earth where he had fleetingly passed, like a stranger.’[3] It is perhaps the absurd death of his father that brings his father closer to him, recognising the futile nature of life, for a brief moment Cormery feels a connection to his father who had produced him and ‘then immediately had gone off to die in a strange land on the other side of the seas.’[4] Despite the morbid curiosity that Jacques feels toward his father, he is forced to forsake and abandon his father again and he leaves the graveyard and returns to Algeria to visit his mother.

The relationship between Camus and his mother is perhaps the highlight feature of this novel. Whilst the search for his father is a significant part of the novel, the complicated relationship between Cormery and his mother is the most interesting I personally find. The influence of his harsh grandmother and inspirational teacher (M. Bernard who represents Camus’ real-life teacher Louis Germain) are important features of the novel and vital in understanding Camus’ childhood, but the depiction of Camus’ mother, in the novel Catherine Cormery, in real life Catherine Helene Camus, and their relationship bounded by an unspoken love. Catherine is described as an illiterate and mostly deaf woman who is loved greatly by her son. Their relationship is defined by an inability to communicate their love and affection, and the young Jacques is saddened as he watches his mother stare aimlessly out the window every evening. On one occasion Camus describes the young Jacques watching his mother in the ‘shadows with a lump in his throat… filled with an obscure anxiety in the presence of adversity he could not understand.’[5] Camus’ sympathy and love for his mother and her troubled condition, as an illiterate domestic worker who worked long days and hard hours, whilst showing the unbreakable bond of love, also serves to highlight a sense of melancholy that had been instilled in Camus from his early as he tried to make sense of the world. Whilst growing up without a father and an illiterate mother, his inspirational teacher, Louis Germain, who got Camus his scholarship at the lycée, is perhaps most responsible for Camus’ successful career as a writer; but it is his mother who is responsible for Camus’ moral groundings. However, it is his mother who Camus first thinks of upon receiving the Noble Prize for Literature, and his mentor second. The mentorship of Germain, or Bernard, in the novel, was instrumental to Camus/ Jacques’ escape from poverty in Algeria, but it was the plain-old love and affection that Camus held for his mother that allowed him to truly understand the absurdity of human existence.

A Personal Odyssey: Camus’ Travels in the Americas

It is from Le Premier homme that we can understand the rich tapestry of experiences from Camus’ childhood that were essential to his development into adulthood. It is perhaps no surprise that the aspect of melancholy is equally as present in the novel as the concept of hope. In Camus’ later writings, it is clear that love and hope become vital sources of defence against the absurdity of existence, it is also clear that these writings were not just philosophical polemics for Camus. Camus’ writings that sought to combat nihilism and despair, such as his arguments against suicide in The Myth of Sisyphus, are not mere thought exercises but symbolise his own true coming to terms with suicide, depression, absurdity and the human condition. These feelings of hopelessness, exile, and isolation are themes that can be traced back to Camus’ childhood as depicted in Le Premier homme, as he comes to terms with a life without a mother and a muted love for her. But nowhere are these emotions clearer than in Camus’ notebooks from his travels to the Americas. An English translation of Camus’ Journaux de Voyage was published only last year.[6] The virility of Camus’ depression is clear in these notebooks which document his travels across both North and South America, in 1946 to the USA and in 1949 to South America. These notebooks contain instances of Camus’ admission of his wish to die. These troubled feelings of Camus are best exemplified by his diary entry from August 9^th, 1949:

Haunted, in reality, in the glorious light of Rio, by the thought of the harm we do to others the moment we look at them. Causing suffering has long been a thing of indifference to me, I have to admit. It’s love that’s enlightened me about this. Now, I can no longer bear it. In a way, it’s better to kill than to cause suffering.

What finally seemed clear to me yesterday is that I wish to die.[7]

These travel writings not only document Camus’ sadness but also his feelings of exile, isolation and despair, as well as the companionship he finds with nature and his nostalgia for his native homeland of Algeria. Whilst in South America, Camus documents his episodes of insomnia and struggles with his health and writes: ‘The sky and water are never-ending. What good company sadness finds there!’[8] In the depths of a sadness that he cannot make sense of Camus admittedly seeks comfort in nature. One instance of this is documented by Camus, where his attempt to find solace is of no avail: ‘Remained in front of the sea for a long time. Despite all my efforts and reasoning, impossible to shake this sadness that I no longer even understand.”[9] Such instances of Camus’ depression and suicidal thoughts perhaps challenge our mythologisation of Camus as a self-assured writer. The idea that he was a stead-fast thinker, absolutely certain in his conviction that ‘one must imagine Sisyphus happy’ is not a particularly accurate one, as once we read Camus’ more personal writings our depiction of the man becomes a more complicated one. Whilst such personal writings may undermine the assuredness of Camus’ arguments, they do not undermine their fervour. This is because by being able to see the truly personal and psychological troubles of Camus we are able to uncover the true significance of his conclusions, for Camus’ rejection of suicide in The Myth of Sisyphus is at once a universal and a personal rejection. Whilst published in 1942, years before his travels to the Americas, the opening of The Myth of Sisyphus highlights the personal nature of Camus’ philosophical endeavours and attempt to repudiate suicide in an absurd world:

‘And if it is true, as Nietzsche claims, that a philosopher, to deserve our respect, must preach by example, you can appreciate the importance of that reply, for it will precede the definitive act. These are facts the heart can feel; yet they call for careful study before they become clear to the intellect.’[10]

Camus’ battle with suicide years after the publication of The Myth of Sisyphus perhaps highlights the extent to which his personal psychological struggles were present during his literary career and the extent to which they informed the evolution of his philosophical ideas. If we are to take Camus’ admission above seriously, then truly grappling with his personal writings, or at least the personal aspect of his writings, becomes pertinent to how we grapple with his philosophy and politics as a whole. In essence, his personal writings are completely intertwined with those that seem to be impersonal, or even academic. The revelations we can uncover from Camus’ personal writings are necessary to understand his wider philosophy, both in their aims and their conclusions. Hence, whilst personal writings, such as his reminiscence over Algeria, are rich sources of reading for Camus enthusiasts, they are also critical sources of literature that are vital in providing a more holistic understanding of the Camusian project, whether that be the embracing of the absurd or the rejection of totalitarian violence. Essentially, the moments of insight we get into Camus’ own personal world serve to illuminate the rest of his literary corpus, whilst also being of intrigue in and of themselves.

Conclusion

The main point of this article has been to exemplify the need for a more rigorous approach to understanding Camus’ philosophy in light of the hints of personal connection we get with him through writings that go beyond his usual impersonal, detached tone. Whilst I have not, and cannot, cover all the personal writings of Camus in this article, I have chosen to focus on The First Man and Travels in the America as informative sources that show us an unprecedented glimpse into Camus’ personal life, from childhood until his death. There is an extensive array of personal writings by Camus that are certainly worth reading on the basis of their own merit and also provide further unique insight that allows us to uncover a deeper understanding of Camus, both as a philosopher and as a person.[11] Ultimately, such personal writings also provide an important reminder that Camus was simply another human, who had his fair share of moments of triumph and despair, and thus allow us to sympathise with him more deeply whilst also allowing us to recognise the significance of his philosophical conclusions and the personal implications that rejection of them would have had on Camus. Although this article has been brief, I hope that it has shown the value of getting to grips with the personal aspects of Camus’ writing. Additionally, I hope to have shown the merits of an interpretation of Camus’ works that incorporates the need to contextualise them with his own personal biography. His personal writings evidence this need as, by showing his own psychological battles, they emphasise the personal nature of Camus’ other works, regardless of how detached or impersonal the actual tone of such writings may be.

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Sources

[1] Camus, Catherine. “Editor’s Note.” In Camus, Albert. The First Man, translated by David Hapgood. (London: Penguin Books, 2001) p. vi

[2] Camus, Albert. The Myth of Sisyphus translated by Justin O’Brien. (London: Penguin Books, 2005) p.1

[3] Camus, Albert. The First Man, translated by David Hapgood. (London: Penguin Books, 2001) p. 22

[4] Ibid.p. 21

[5] Ibid. p. 178

[6] Camus, Albert. Travels in the Americas: Notes and Impressions of a New World edited by Alice Kaplan and translated by Ryan Bloom. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2023)

[7] Ibid. p. 103

[8] Ibid. p. 61

[9] Ibid. p. 66

[10] Camus. The Myth of Sisyphus. p.1

[11] Camus, Albert. Personal Writings translated by Ellen Conroy Kennedy and Justin O’Brien. (London: Penguin Books, 2020) is a good collection to start with. As is his notebooks.