I’ve broken the book-a-day pace that I’ve been on since returning from the cape, but I don’t feel too guilty about it. Right now I’m in the middle of Alan’s Lovecraft collection. I feel that I have a lot to catch up with in both the literary and horror cannons. This upcoming semester does not look promising in terms of time to free read—or write for that matter.
Recently, I’ve just read Camus’ The Stranger for the first time. It’s short, but says a lot about our search for the meaning of life, and how we convict each other socially. The scene with the trial is set out to prove that the protagonist is guilty of being a criminal and harboring dark intentions, than it is to prove that he’s guilty of murder. It reminds me a lot A Fraction of the Whole, a contemporary book by Steve Toltz which was given to me early this summer. The trial of The Stranger really irks me because it’s an example of society attempting to understand this man’s life based on universal truths—which I don’t believe in. It’s ironic, because two years ago I would have agreed with the Objectivist A=A. How can we establish a concrete awareness for all of existence? Perhaps I’m tainted with the allure of postmodernism, but I feel that as individuals we will only ever know the truths we establish ourselves. I think the closest we will ever be able become to one another is through our stories.
Stage Fright 