It is one of the most profound and surreal feelings to find solace in the writings of others. Such a feeling provides one with the comfort of knowing that the human predicament sits in universal understanding, that everyone struggles to navigate through the various trials of life. In my experience, the writings of Leonard Cohen, Carolyn Forché, and Ernest Hemingway, among others, have evoked similar feelings of comfort and understanding. More recently, in the age of COVID-19, Albert Camus’ The Plague has taken on this role of guide and friend in my life.
Since the start of the pandemic, Camus’ The Plague has almost completely sold out in every book store, no doubt due to its eerily similar parallels of today’s world. Published in 1947, The Plague follows Dr. Rieux, his peers, and fellow neighbors as they attempt to adapt to the epidemic that has stricken the Algerian city of Oran. It begins with the sudden appearance of dying rats and soon thereafter, what is believed by the townspeople to be the bubonic plague. The gates of Oran close indefinitely, leaving the townspeople isolated with feelings of exile and longing for their loved ones. In isolation, some people attempt to maintain normalcy in their everyday lives, whereas others break from their normal routines and meet new people, party excessively, slip into despair, and turn to crime. After many hard months, the plague slowly subsides and disappears, and the townspeople immediately return to their normal lives, forgetting the plague almost as quickly and as suddenly as it arrived. In the final chapter, the narrator declares his tale as a testament to the victims of the plague and the struggles of front-line workers. As well, his chronicle of events remains “a record of what had had to be done, and what assuredly would have to be done again in the never-ending fight against terror and its relentless onslaughts”.
Camus’ The Plague is not simply a tale of disease and sickness but rather, an exploration into the sublimity of life and the inevitability of suffering. More importantly, in the state of a worldwide pandemic, we are forced to come face to face with questions of what it means to be alive in a world plagued by war, disease, and absurdity. Such questions are daunting and mysterious- especially when no answer is absolute or guaranteed. Camus’ work is transcendent and remains especially relevant as we continue to experience the pandemic, over two years after its initial arrival. Even more so, as restrictions lift in Montreal, I can’t help but wonder how the effects of COVID-19 will influence everyday life, as we attempt to return to a state of “normal”.
And yes, while Camus’ work is certainly imbued from cover to cover with existential dread, it is actually quite comforting. As someone who is almost always on the verge of an existential crisis, Camus’ work has made me feel less alone in my attempts to navigate through the various trials of my own life and establish meaning. In all, Camus’ The Plague is a bold meditation on life, existence, and what it means to be human. More importantly, it has taught me that the only antidote to fear, hatred, sickness, and grief— is love.