This was (I think) Satrte's first published work of fiction, and really its an exposition not of his ability to handle multiple stories and different narrative styles, but of the philosophical ideals which he went on to write in Being and Nothingness. If you can't tolerate existentialism in its rawest form, its probably not worth trying to enjoy this book.

The story is essentially about a man who lives alone in a small French town, attempting to produce a book on the Marquis de Rollebon, an obscure french noble, having up until this point lived what he had previously believed to bed a fulfilled life. But in the writing of the book he soon comes to question what he is doing with his life now, and whether in fact he has ever lived. He soon finds himself falling apart, as he looks in the mirror, the deeper he looks the less he recognises in his own face.

The book is, due to its subject matter, a very isolating experience: Roquentin only really comes into contact with two people, both of whom he resents absolutely. Its the expression of an angry young man, angry as much at himself as at the world and other people. In this way it is hard to stomach, but this is what Sartre intended, hence the title. Every time Roquentin feels himself overwhelmed by his disgust at being alive he feels the nausea overcome him. This makes the book at times, for those who are able to empathise with Roquentin, very uncomfortable reading, but through this it s very rewarding, when we, with him, see some hope behind his anguish, some conclusion to it. Much like Camus's Le Etranger it is in the height of his suffering that he reaches real elation of self-knowledge.

In fact Camus's work is a good book to compare it to. That in itself is a fairly short and sparse work, and both describe a character who are confronted by the absurdity of their life. The difference however is the lack of a political edge to Sartre's work (though he does criticise humanism): Roquentin brings his suffering upon himself, while Camus's character is the victim of a legal system. For me, Sartre's approach is preferable, though others might prefer a character who is less passive than Sartre's.

Sartre's book is a book with we can question ourselves. Some might prefer his later more political orientated works, but for its intensity, Nausea is for me the more complete work. I gave it four only because it makes such difficult reading, describing both complex and disturbing issues about an individual's worth.


magnifique!   May 10, 2002
 39 out of 41 found this review helpful

When I initially picked this book up, I couldn't wait to put it down again. As a student of philosophy it was required reading and every time I would pick it up I could just about manage to read a page or two and would then have to reconcile it to the pile in the corner, to be attempted again when I could muster the strength to drag myself through the apparently relentless waffle. Came the day when I could procrastinate no longer and I found to my utter surprise that when I really submerged myself in the text it utterly came alive. I believe that many may have perhaps missed the beautiful, humorous irony secreted within the pages of this book. It is indeed the tale of the existential struggle of the 'despairing' consciousness; a consciousness desperately seeking certainty in a wholly contingent universe in which existence knows no beginning. There are moments of rare, sublime beauty as Roquentin seeks to define himself purely by self-reflecting - there is no significant 'other' that can give meaning to one's life; the answers - if there are any - are all to be found within. The pathos and tragedy of his relationship with Anny made my heart almost implode. There are moments of incredibly raw, real beauty within this book, along with some wonderfully observed reflections on the human condition. Absolutely not to be missed.


One of the Best books I've ever read   April 24, 2002
 9 out of 11 found this review helpful

Although this novel and Sartre's writing in general is often classed as empty and grey - this novel shows the beauty in just that. Like a concrete tower block exudes menace, this novel describes the emptiness in Nausea - the realisation of an abstract form that is felt only by the individual