The Tunnel

Ernesto Sabato's El Túnel is the first person account of an artist's murder of the one person who understood him best. At an exhibition, Juan Pablo Castel notices a woman captivated by the window that takes up a small section of one of his finished paintings. She is the only person who appears to have realized the importance of the window, which leads to him becoming to become slowly and utterly fixated on her.

He seeks her out in a somewhat roundabout matter, finally running into her seemingly by accident. He learns that she has been thinking about his painting all the time since that showing. They become romantically involved, but Castel feels she is not being completely honest with him. He begins to suspect she has other lovers, perhaps even that he's just a plaything to her. He becomes increasingly obsessed with possessing her until his actions cross over into derangement.

This is a novel about obsession and man's futile struggle for meaning, and it is no surprise that Camus found it important enough to have translated into French. I must admit I was not entirely captivated by the story. Though I'm fond of eccentrics in literature (especially the obsessive kind), I often found Castel's obsessiveness more irritating than contagious. I also felt the metaphor of the tunnel as reflecting the essential loneliness of human existence was a bit on the literal side.

So, overall an interesting look at one man's obsession and how it reflects modern man's fruitless search for connection, but not entirely satisfying.

Update: 08/06/2015

Part of the Speed Reviews.

My initial reaction of this book, which I later wrote down, was this:

“It was disturbing, very blunt, confusing and uncertain. Still not sure how I feel about it.”

Right now, I feel almost exactly the same. Still disturbing, and blunt, and kind of confusing and very uncertain. But now, I know how I feel. You see, I've found the perfect allegory for it. This book is a train. Let me explain.

This book felt like if you were boarding a train, with “Death” for its name, but chose to ignore it, and then sat comfortably in the seat of your choosing. The train will start it's engine, and for so, the trip. It will be a slow start, as it always is, which will easy your mind. But soon, you will see its pacing quicken, and quicken, until a point were its speed wasn't normal anymore. The speed will continue to increase into alarming rates, and you will start to worry. And soon enough, someone will see a wall in the horizon, an obstacle, sure to get in the way of your train. And even thought you know it's coming, you still look, and wait anxiously for it to come. And then, it does. The train smashes and crashes against the wall, shooting all its passengers into different, sporadic directions, including you. And once the accident has calmed down, you wake up from the hit, only to presence the disaster left behind, and only you are there to see it, to witness it, to which you will wonder, why you boarded the train named “Death”.

Very poetic actually.

In more seriousness, this book was like a hit in the chest, even thought you knew it all along. And even if it's morbid and sad, it's actually really good. You identify with the MC, even if he's insane. But at times, he makes sense.

I liked this book, really. I recommend that everyone reads it. And if that gorgeous allegory didn't convince you, here are some quotes I've recollected. For spoilers reason, I've chopped down a few.

With this one, you open up the book.

“There was one person who could understand me. But it was precisely the person I killed “

“The phrase ‘all past times were better' does not indicate that less bad things happened before, but really -happily- people trust them into oblivion.”

“To live is to build future memories.”

“The expected does not happen. It's the unexpected that happens. “

“But why this mania of wanting to find an explanation of all acts of life?”

“Vanity is in the most unexpected places: by the side of goodness, of selflessness, of generosity.”

“When I'm stopped on the street, in a square or on the train, to ask me what books you have to read, I always say,” Read what you are passionate about, it will be the only thing that will help support the existence.”

“... In any case there was only one tunnel, dark and lonely: mine.”

I was super surprised by how wild this read is. So much more lovely than Camus' Merausalt.