This is Albert Camus, a contemporary of Jean-Paul Sartre. Both French writers and philosophers. Camus wrote, at least, a couple of great novels. He wrote The Myth of Sisyphus. Reading that in a Gawler pub sent my head spinning over pints and later; seemed to give me vertigo in the Adelaide high-rise hotel room. I struggled with The Myth of Sisyphus the first time around, as an undergraduate. It wasn't until I was approaching my thirties that the penny selling dropped. Then I really got it; the whole nine yards of personal growth. Prior to that, it was Camus novels like The Stranger and The Fall that sustained my interest, on the back of Sartre's Nausea, his short stories and a song from The Cure. Camus died in a car accident. Life's a bastard like that. I don't reckon he'd have had it any other way though. How could he have?
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Product code: The Sisyphus is selling Real