A winding and confusing journey of being talked to, and talking to. Jean-Baptiste Clamence, the monologuing protagonist, slowly grows on you. Starting from an unnerving and arms-length relationship he eases his way in, seemingly slowly and hesitantly offering up traumatic experiences from his past life. Truths, and embarassments as well. Oh but he’s not modest, no. He’s honest. He portrays himself exactly as he wants to be and describes to you his fall from grace, power, everything he and a person could want to be.
Yet now having read this book twice in succession I am still left feeling confused. Is this an elaborate game he’s playing? Is he really talking to me? Or is this a lunatic talking to himself? Does it even matter?
Despite my confusion, I thoroughly enjoyed this. There are some beautiful quotes: ‘martyrs, cher ami, must choose between being forgotten, mocked, or made us of. As for being understood, never.’
Maybe a third time will do it.