Antoine Roquentin has settled in Bouville (Mudtown), is writing a historical novel, meeting 'The Autodidact' in the library, while thinking about a reunion with his ex girlfriend, Anny. As it is by Sartre, he also ponders life, and the absurdity and meaning of it. This also involves him suffering from what he refers to as 'The Nausea' (hence the title), as everyday objects and people start to make him feel ill. After all - what is the point of anything? Most people glorify the past, keep themselves occupied, do deeds that make them feel self important and don't even know they exist. Who cares what choices you make? Blah blah blah, existential angst by the pageful, but he is moved by the sound and artistry of a jazz record, and in the end he decides he may as well write a classic book of fiction, because if nothing really matters (as Del Amitri sang), you are free. If you are free, you can make your own choices and pathways, and that also gives you responsibilities (a bit like Spider-man), one of which could be to create great art. A good novel, but Sartre doesn't half go on a bit.toodle pip
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