The Hermit

A work that is simple in word, and complex in breadth. I came across Ionesco's book in a most befitting place, abondoned in the basement of an old tenement building. After reading the first few pages, I was drawn to the similarities in writing style between this French author, and that of his fellow countryman, Albert Camus. Whereas the 'stranger' was a nihilist who lacked a moral compass, the 'hermit' feels all too much. A man who is freed from having to work, slowly withdrawals from a role as active participant, to that of silent observer. As he fades, he's subject to a myriad of hallucinatory visions, all the while searching for exactly what is real, and if what is real, really exists. Or is he? He is Atlas, a man who admits to carrying the fears of the world on his shoulders, and who believes his malaise, anxiety and worry, are necessary motivations. The story can be read on several levels, some more evanescent and elusive than others. In the 'hermit's' own words (as translated by Richard Seaver): "I realized that I thought too much, I who have promised myself not to think at all, which is much the wiser course since, in any case, no one understands a word I say."

This book is an interesting existential analysis of the human condition as seen through the eyes of a former office clerk who, after inheriting a large sum, decides to leave his job. From then on, he alternately exists experientially and through hallucination. He views the rush of the individual through the world in moments both intimate and clear followed by gigantic, historical events that pass in a blur. I found it to be a complex work of great style and vision. That sounds like a real cop-out but he really does make a fine set of statements in a vivid, yet surreal way. A good read but you gots to pay attention.