Nausea

Professor Stump told us about how one of the Grad students he has in class has been out of action for the last couple weeks because of a severe bout of depression that was worsened by the subject matter of the novels they were reading in their 21st Century French novel class. I thought this was ridiculous at first, a little over the top. However, I realize this is actually a logical extension of the sort of aesthetic philosophy I buy into, mainly one of affect and force. Primarily, I associated these sort of responses to images, but I understand now that is simply because I have not been exposed to enough quality literature to understand its power as well. Silly of me to forget my first experiences with Salinger and Vonnegut in high school, in which I would unwittingly find myself incorporating their writing patterns in my everyday speech.

We are reading Sartre's Nausea in class and I am finding a weird sort of connection to what I am actually feeling. I guess most people, myself included, throw around the word existentialism as if they understand what it means. I always interpreted it as a process, i.e. the act of trying to figure out what existence is all about. I think Sartre is more concerned with "Is existence real?" I'm sure the ideas of existentialism are severely outdated and have been refuted by the post-modernists, but for me their is something oddly compelling and affecting about this novel in particular. There is a sequence in which Roquentin collapses into a wave of understanding. Everything exists, existence is real. I picture him stumbling down the street as Gaspar Noé's camera from Irreversible follows him. The way Sartre presents this sequence, it is hard not to be caught by its force. I began to read faster, my brain started spinning, I was freaking out. I had never been moved in that sort of way by a novel, and it really bummed me out. I should be happy that I was able to be affected in that way, but the way things are going in other areas, it was not what I needed.