Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre (4.5/5)

In Nausea, published in 1938, Jean-Paul Sartre illustrates his disgust with the insanity of existence through descriptions of dissociative fits rather than simple contemplation. The story reveals Sartre’s difficulty with comprehending his and others’ conscious relation to things and to each other (a form of phenomenology). He was an early existentialist philosopher who generally believed that “existence precedes essence”, meaning that there is no preconceived design for how individuals should act and that we give our lives meaning only through our actions. The book’s protagonist, Antoine Roquentin, connects these two concepts with his inability to determine what he should do with his overwhelming freedom. An effect of this is frequent fits of ‘nausea’ (the book’s namesake), an out-of-body sensation in which he overanalyzes the existence of simple objects and actions and feels disgusted at their (and at his own) absolute absurdity. Nausea takes place in Bouville, France, a place that does really exist as a commune but whose depiction in the book is more likely a fictional portrayal of Le Havre (Normandy, France), which is where Sartre was living when he wrote the book. The book was also originally written in French, but has since been translated into English twice (the version I read was done so by Lloyd Alexander). Antoine Roquentin is a writer who has seemingly cut ties with all friends and family, his only interactions being with those that work/live near him, the Self-Taught Man, and briefly Anny, a past lover. It’s sort of written as a diary, with there being dated entries instead of chapters, yet it’s still written in the third person. Due to this format, it’s a bit hard to write a summary, but it basically follows Antoine Roquentin throughout his day-to-day life and documents his internal dialogues about the people that he meets. Some (mostly) consistent plot points include his meetups with the Self-Taught Man, who can usually be found in the library, references to Anny, memories of his time abroad, scenes in which he works on his own book (within the book) about Marquis de Rollebon, and, of course, his fits of nausea. I enjoyed Nausea and I’m glad I picked it up. As compared to other philosophical books, it’s refreshing how easily digestible this one is. I didn’t feel like I had to make a huge effort to understand the book and yet it still gave excellent input on rather heavy topics. On top of that, it’s beautifully written. While not a very happy story, the attention to detail kept me immersed and I find myself frequently thinking about specific sections (which I will not spoil) even now. Overall, it’s a wonderful book that I didn’t give 5 stars because I thought it was a bit too angsty at times (Roquentin doesn’t say it outright, but he acts like a misanthrope). Still, I’d highly suggest it to anyone looking for an impactful yet quick read (178 pages).