 Recorded Books and RB Digital Present The First Man by Albert Camus Translated by David Hapgood Narrated by Jefferson Maze Editor's Note Judith Jones, editor of the American edition of this book, has asked me for a more explanatory preface than the one I wrote for the French edition. Hapf has taken such pains with this book that I cannot refuse, but I must warn the reader that I am neither a writer, nor an academic, nor even an expert on Camus. I am just his daughter, and so I ask you to read this note with forbearance and to forgive any awkwardness in it. Why publish this manuscript so long after my father's death? To understand this delay, we must evoke the mood of 1960. The year my father died, and my mother, Francine, and his friends decided not to publish his manuscript. I shall try briefly to summarize the mood of that time by means of what is certainly an oversimplified sketch of people's opinions as they related to the question of publication. British intellectuals were preoccupied with two topics, the Soviet Union and the War in Algeria. On the first, the prevailing opinion on the left forbade criticism of the communist regime on the grounds that any such criticism would, by damaging the regime's credibility, delay humanity's progress toward a better world. On the second topic, the same people favored independence for Algeria under Arab rule and supported the FLN, Front de Libération Nationale. Camus, for his part, condemned the Gulag, Stalin's trials, and totalitarianism in the Soviet Union in the belief that ideology must serve humanity, not the contrary, and that the ends did not justify the means. He went so far as to say that the means used by totalitarian regimes destroyed any hope for a better world. As for Algeria, he advocated a federation in which the Arab and European peoples would be equally represented. Those who read this book may better understand his position. So in denouncing totalitarianism, and in advocating a multicultural Algeria where both communities would enjoy the same rights, Camus antagonized both the right and the left. At the time of his death, he was very much isolated and subject to attacks from all sides designed to destroy the man and the artist so that his ideas would have no impact. In these circumstances, to have published an unfinished manuscript, 144 handwritten pages, often lacking periods and commas, never revised, might well have given ammunition to those who were saying Camus was through as a writer. His friends and my mother decided not to run that risk. My twin brother and I had no say in the decision, for we were only 14 years old. The years went by. My mother died in 1979, and I assumed the responsibility that had been hers. Between 1980 and 1985, voices began to be heard saying that perhaps Camus had not been so wrong, and little by little, the old disputes died down. As for me, I first had to learn how to deal with the work of literature. I prepared Camus' carnet troisième for publication, and then in the early 1990s my brother and I had to confront the question of le premier homme. Two considerations persuaded us. First, we believed a manuscript of such importance would sooner or later be published unless we destroyed it. Since we had no right to destroy it, we preferred to publish it ourselves, so that it would appear exactly as it was. Secondly, it seemed to us that this autobiographical account would be of exceptional value to those interested in Camus. Finally, it is obvious that my father would never have published this manuscript as it is. First, for the simple reason that he had not completed it, but also because he was a very reserved man, and would no doubt have masked his own feelings far more in its final version. But it seems to me, and I say this with hesitation, for I can claim no objectivity, it seems to me that one can most clearly hear my father's voice in this text. Be... Sample complete. Ready to continue?