Albert Camus said, “A novel is never anything but a philosophy put into images. And in a good novel, the whole of the philosophy has passed into the images. But if once the philosophy overflows the characters and action, and therefore looks like a label stuck on the work, the plot loses its authenticity and the novel its life. Nevertheless, a work that is to last cannot dispense with profound ideas.”
Or at least something similar. The man wrote in French, after all.
It’s here I should continue my previous words on trusting blindly in authority and the past, since here Camus is quite obviously and simple wrong. A novel is self-evidently a philosophy put into words and for a philosophy put into images one has to look to comics, which already existed during Camus’ time and thus he is left with no excuse. This should be profoundly embarrassing to Camus were he alive, but from what I know of the man I’d wager he wouldn’t be embarrassed and might even laugh at the whole thing, which is where my respect for the man returns.
Everything is on the page and in the frame for a reason, and that goes double this time. It says a lot about Antau that he dragged, among other things, a toilet stand with an empty roll of toilet paper out into the middle of the woods. But exactly what it says is, as it always has been, entirely up to you.
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