Lottman's Albert Camus was the first and remains the definitive biography -- even in France. John Leonard, New York "What emerges from Mr. Lottman's tireless devotions is a portrait of the artist, the outsider, the humanist and skeptic, that breaks the heart." John Sturrock, The New York Times Book Herbert Lottman's life (of Camus) is the first to be written, either in French or English, and it is exhaustive, a labor of love and of wonderful industry." This new edition includes a specially written preface by the author revealing the challenges of a biographer, of some of the problems that had to be dealt with while writing the book and after it appeared.
Herbert Lottman was an American journalist and author who spend most of his life in France. He majored in English and biology at the University of New York, graduating in 1948 and earned a master’s in English from Columbia in 1951. In 1956 he moved to Paris and became the manager of the Paris branch of the publisher Farrar, Straus and Giroux. He also was writing for Publishers Weekly for four decades and wrote a novel, Detours From the Grand Tour. But he is most reknowned for his biographies on French personalities and his writings on French intellectual life.
Three stars simply because its Camus. Exactly as the previous reviewers described. It is a biography; no more no less. At many times it reads like a very long encyclopedia page. Unfortunately Camus feels like an abstract figure lacking depth despite the numerous quotes from his journal etc. A major editing is needed - multiple pages are often devoted to innocuous details. All of this detracts from allowing a more profound reading of the author's life.
Camus was born and bred in French Algeria and was killed at the age of 47 in a car accident.
Camus’ mother Catherine was unable to read or write. His grandmother, Catherine Sintes, was a “harsh” woman who regularly used a whip on little Albert and his brother, Lucien.
I found it impressive that though his mother was illiterate Albert won the Nobel Prize for Literature.
Albert’s father, Lucien Auguste Camus, died in World War I before Albert was one year old.
Albert’s wife, Simone Hié, was addicted to drugs and spent her life “in and out of private hospitals and rest homes”.
Already at a young age in school, it was seen that Albert was extremely gifted.
Camus was afflicted with tuberculosis at an early age.
If there is a fault with this biography, it is that it is filled with, in my view, superfluous details; I did not find it particularly easy to read.
I'm a fan of Camus, so I was bound to find this book interesting, and I did. The biography seems well-researched, and I found out a lot about his early life, theater life, and years during the war.
The writing was adequate but unexceptional, except where the author was quoting Camus.
I'd recommend this book to anyone with an interest in Albert Camus.
This book is exactly what it proclaims to be, a biography of Albert Camus. The writing is unexceptional and it's easy to tell where poor editing has left certain points unclear. However, if you're looking for a background of the man and his work, this is a perfectly suitable work.
Herbert R. Lottman’s protective biography of Albert Camus provides an abundance of details from the writer’s life which easily allows the reader to construct a mental hologram of Camus the person. However, the level of verisimilitude that hologram bears to the man probably falls somewhat short because of the aforementioned protective nature of this biography. Having read other Camus biographies, it was obvious to me that Lottman was attempting to tactfully portray, by under-describing, Camus’ many relationships with women who were not his wife. It would be easy for an inattentive reader to misinterpret these many relationships, based on Lottman’s thin details, as Platonic or muse-like, entered into solely to drive Camus’ creative juices, which we clearly saw needed some serious kick starting at times during his short life. Glossing over these many relationships, respectful as it may be, prevents one from more fully understanding Camus the man. It also does a disservice to Francine Camus, Albert’s longtime, long suffering second wife.
Camus suffered terribly from tuberculosis. Flare-ups would debilitate him for weeks or months. Yet he kept working, struggling to write, to create, all while coughing up blood or struggling to breathe. Me, I got a cold I couldn’t shake for five weeks, minor yet lingering symptoms, and I did next to nothing, which explains why it took me so long to finish reading this Lottman work. Hats off to Albert Camus for his determination to plug away.
I’d like to include a couple of meaningful Camus quotes here, both as a tribute and, more pragmatically for me, for easy reference in the future:
“The struggle towards the summits itself suffices to fill a man’s heart.”
“If a terrorist throws a grenade in the Belcourt market where my mother shops, and if he kills her, I would be responsible if, to defend justice, I defended terrorism. I love justice but I also love my mother.”
“Between wisdom reduced to silence and madness which shouts itself hoarse, I prefer the virtues of silence. Yes, when speech manages to dispose without remorse of the existence of others, to remain silent is not a negative attitude.”
I read The Stranger and The Plague many years ago, and recently read collection of essays including The Myth of Sisyphus. Also I'd seen the photograph, the one where Camus is wearing his collar up, smoking a cigarette, looking just beyond the photographer. So I was curious about the man behind that smoldering stare.
It's a very thorough biography. One thing I can definitely say after reading this is that I feel like I know about as much as a person who never personally met the man can about the subject. It's a little dry and repetitive in parts, leavened only by the juicier anecdotes from Camus' squabbles with various writers and Parisian intellectuals. Still, the biographer keeps a respectful distance, so the overall effect is as arid as the legendary writer's Algerian pudeur. A little bit of the mystery wore off, but some humanity came through. I just started reading The Fall, and I can see the parallels and what he was trying to do more clearly than if I had not just spent a couple months learning about his life.
Can a book be researched to death? One gets the feeling that the man has been buried under the detail, and although I now know the layout of almost everywhere he ever lived, I’m not sure I understand him. One day someone will use all the detail in this book to write a really wonderful biography
A wonderful biography, thoroughly researched, well written, brimming with detail (and contrary to some other reviewers here, I like detail in my biographies). Camus was an admirable man as well as a genius, and it is good to be in his company for a thousand pages. The ending, the tragic auto accident that ended his life prematurely, is unbearably sad.
One specific lesson I learned is that public shaming and in-fighting over “political correctness” is nothing new, even though the tools have changed. Camus tried to carve out a middle position politically and philosophically, and was mercilessly attacked from both sides for doing so. His success was also deeply resented by many. To read about his life in the 1950s is disturbing because all that nonsense cut into his productivity and his pleasure in living, a difficult issue to begin with because of his lifelong tuberculosis.
It was a fairly solid biography with a lot of research but I had problems with it. It was subtitled "a biography" not a philosophical biography or a literary biography yet somehow Camus' family, particularly his wife and children disappeared. They re-appeared a bit in the last third but Lottman rarely addresses why they were so absent in his actual life. On speaking of his wife's "nervous" illness, Lottman writes:
"But it seemed as if he was not then or ever prepared to give up a way of life which could have been the primary cause or one of the principle causes of the trouble."
But he never discusses it, never speculates. He references later an "unresolved family drama." That's it.
He--as if complimenting him--says that Camus spent a full month a year with his children since he knew they needed a father. One month. Out of twelve.
He also mentions all of the times Camus went places obviously without his family though it goes unmentioned, and also when he traveled with other women (though he also fails to give more information about the relationships).
And despite the lack of "philosophical" or "literary" in the title, the works do get short shrift. He hardly discusses content except with some of the political essays. I didn't feel more driven to read Camus' work because of the biography.