‘Truth, like light, dazzles. 
Lie, on the other hand, is a beautiful twilight 
that raises every object.’

The Fall - Clamence (Albert Camus)

Monsieur Albert Camus,

Auriez-vous l'amabilité d'accepter cette lettre? You may not be waiting for my letter but nevertheless I am making a bold move and hope you will not refuse this letter. For I would like to tell you something after my reflections. The idea for this letter is of a recent date and is certainly meant as a tribute.

The impetus for this letter stems from the fact that I recently bumped into an old acquaintance called François in a local café. We discussed all sorts of things and so I told François that my holiday plans for next year will take me to Provence in southern France. A major travel goal is to visit the town of Lourmarin. ‘What makes this place worth a visit?’ asked François who has his roots in southern France. ‘That's where Albert Camus lived and is buried,’ and I continued ‘this writer integrates me very much.’

François said he did read the book ‘la Peste’ a long time ago. He said there is a kind of modern fresco in a street not far from where his father lives, near Paris. It has no special significance mind you, at least not that he knew of. ‘It's just a simple tribute from the town of Rosny-sous-Bois,’ François said. Furthermore, Albert Camus is also the namesake of a large high school there. Then François asked me the question ‘but what speaks to you in this writer? And that is actually a very good question of his and with which François got me thinking and I decided to write this letter to you. 

My house was built in 1913 and that also happens to be your birth year, of course making the connection here is completely absurd. But there are other points of contact between you and me. For one thing, I can enjoy a nice touching sentence in a text, a few words that make me think. I am not just concerned with the fine sensory descriptions or your philosophical reflections of the absurd. What touches me are the personal considerations described in your books but, above all, the life you have lived. You have so much more than just your texts in store for me. 

Almost all your works focus on the question of the meaning of human existence. In doing so, you come to the conclusion, that our existence is meaningless, simply absurd. Whether it is the books such as The Fall, The Stranger, The Plague, Man in Revolt, The Wedding - Summer or Letters to a German, The First Man and The Last Cahiers, all your books teach me to move forward, to open my sights to everything absurd that has occurred in my life. ‘Man is the only creature that refuses to be what he is.’ L'homme révolté you write so beautifully and that is why we do need to embrace life and live it to the full. I have read your books with abandon; there is no writer I keep returning to. 

For instance, I was greatly moved by the book Letters to an Unnamed German Friend. You teach us that sticking to ideals, that you may love your country in a peace-loving way but must continue to strive for a just society. In the letters to your friend, you want to teach us not to become like the enemy. Finally, you reopen the road to renewed friendship, a road that was hermetically closed by the dark years of war. In the end, people, even enemies, will have to come to terms with each other again. that is the ultimate outcome of your quest.

Man is looking for order and meaning but the universe does not give it, always something unexpected happens, something absurd. The universe is bigger than ourselves and is completely indifferent to us you argue. We are always in an absurd situation and have to constantly wake up to learn to cope with the situation we are in. As in the myth of Sisyphus who had to roll up a boulder to the top of the mountain every day. At the end of the day, the rock falls down again and this process repeats itself every day. Despite this setback, Sisyphus was a happy man; he embraced life. This is the core of your philosophy, that as a counter-offensive to the absurd we live an intense and passionate life, that is what you profoundly advise us to do. 

But that is not all my admiration for you is based on. For instance, you opposed the Nazis during the Second World War. Sartre was a close friend during your time in Paris but his post-war enthusiasm for communism went too far for you as a matter of principle. You fought against totalitarianism and concentration camps during the war and therefore could not approve of the Gulags within communism. Something Sartre saw no problem with. It is these principles that cost your various friendships yet you steadfastly held your own course, you are a true hero to me.  

In the brilliant book The Summer (1954), in the story Return to Tipaza, you write the following sentence “In the middle of winter I finally learned that I carried an invincible summer within me.” With this you taught me an important life lesson; no matter what happens, all will be well. Therefore, with my letter I would like to thank you retroactively for the searchlight you generously provided, which during my dark moments of doubt always provided me with a clear direction.

I hope with all my heart that you posthumously experience a well-deserved renaissance, that more and more readers continue to discover you.