《鼠疫》经典读后感10篇

　　《鼠疫》是一本由（法）加缪著作，上海译文出版社出版的平装图书，本书定价：15.00元，页数：233，文章吧小编精心整理的一些读者的读后感，希望对大家能有帮助。

　　《鼠疫》读后感(一)：The introduction of La Peste by Tony Judt

Introduction by Tony Judt
The Plague is Albert Camus's most successful novel. It was published in 1947, when Camus was thirty-three, and was an immediate triumph. Within a year it had been translated into nine languages, with many more to come. It has never been out of print and was established as a classic of world literature even before its author's untimely death in a car accident in January 1960. More ambitious than L'Etranger, the first novel that established his reputation, and more accessible than his later writings, The Plague is the book by which Camus is known to millions of readers. He might have found this odd — The Rebel, published four years later, was his personal favourite among his books — but then authors are not perhaps well-placed to judge.
The Plague was a long time in the writing, like much of Camus's best work. He started gathering material for it in January 1941, when he arrived in Oran, the Algerian coastal town where the story is set. He continued working on the manuｓｃｒｉｐｔ in Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, a mountain village in central France where he went to recuperate from one of his periodic bouts of tuberculosis in the summer of 1942. But Camus was soon swept into the Resistance and it was not until the liberation of France that he was able to return his attention to the book. By then, however, the obscure Algerian novelist had become a national figure: a hero of the intellectual Resistance, editor of Combat (a daily paper born in clandestinity and hugely influential in the post-war years) and an icon to a new generation of French men and women hungry for ideas and idols.
Camus seemed to fit the role to perfection. Handsome and charming, a charismatic advocate of radical social and political change, he held unparalleled sway over millions of his countrymen. In the words of Raymond Aron, readers of Camus's editorials had 'formed the habit of getting their daily thought from him'.1 There were other intellectuals in post-war Paris who were destined to play major roles in years to come: Aron himself, Simone de Beauvoir and of course Jean-Paul Sartre. But Camus was different. Born in Algeria in 1913, he was younger than his left-bank friends, most of whom were already forty years old when the war ended. He was more exotic, coming as he did from distant Algiers rather than from the hothouse milieu of Parisian schools and colleges; and there was something special about him. One contemporary observer caught it well: 'I was struck by his face, so human and sensitive. There is in this man such an obvious integrity that it imposes respect almost immediately; quite simply, he is not like other men.'2
Camus's public standing guaranteed his book's success. But its timing had something to do with it too. By the time the book appeared, the French were beginning to forget the discomforts and compromises of four years of German occupation. Marshal Philippe Pétain, the head of state who initiated and incarnated the policy of collaboration with the victorious Nazis, had been tried and imprisoned. Other collaborating politicians had been executed or else banished from public life. The myth of a glorious national resistance was carefully cultivated by politicians of all colours, from Charles de Gaulle to the Communists; uncomfortable private memories were soothingly displaced by the airbrushed official version, in which France had been liberated from its oppressors by the joint efforts of domestic resisters and Free French troops led from London by de Gaulle.
In this context, Albert Camus's allegory of the wartime occupation of France reopened a painful chapter in the recent French past, but in an indirect and ostensibly apolitical key. It thus avoided arousing partisan hackles, except at the extremes of Left and Right, and took up sensitive topics without provoking a refusal to listen. Had the novel appeared in 1945, the angry, partisan mood of revenge would have drowned its moderate reflections on justice and responsibility. Had it been delayed until the 1950s its subject-matter would probably have been overtaken by new alignments born of the Cold War.
Whether The Plague should be read, as it surely was read, as a simple allegory of France's wartime trauma is a subject to which I shall return. What is beyond doubt is that it was an intensely personal book. Camus put something of himself — his emotions, his memories and his sense of place — into all his published work; that is one of the ways in which he stood apart from other intellectuals of his generation and it accounts for his universal and lasting appeal. But even by his standards The Plague is strikingly introspective and revealing. Oran was a town he knew well and cordially disliked, in contrast to his much-loved home town of Algiers. He found it boring and materialistic and his memories of it were further shaped by the fact that his tuberculosis took a turn for the worse during his stay there. As a result he was forbidden to swim — one of his greatest pleasures — and was constrained to sit around for weeks on end in the stifling, oppressive heat that provides the backdrop to the story.
This involuntary deprivation of everything that Camus most loved about his Algerian birthplace — the sand, the sea, physical exercise and the Mediterranean sense of ease and liberty that he always contrasted with the gloom and grey of the north — was compounded when he was sent to the French countryside to convalesce. The Massif Central of France is tranquil and bracing, and the remote village where Camus arrived in August 1942 might be thought the ideal setting for a writer. But twelve weeks later, in November, the Allies landed in North Africa. The Germans responded by occupying the whole of southern France (hitherto governed from the spa town of Vichy by Pétain's puppet government) and Algeria was cut off from the continent. Camus was thenceforth separated not just from his homeland but also from his mother and his wife, and would not see them again until the Germans had been defeated.3
Illness, exile and separation were thus present in Camus's life as in his novel, and his reflections upon them form a vital counterpoint to the allegory. Because of his acute first-hand experience, Camus's deｓｃｒｉｐｔions of the plague and of the pain of loneliness are exceptionally vivid and heartfelt. It is indicative of his own depth of feeling that the narrator remarks early in the story that 'the first thing that the plague brought to our fellow-citizens was exile' (p. 56), and that 'being separated from a loved one… [was] the greatest agony of that long period of exile' (P.53).
This in turn provides, for Camus and the reader alike, a link to his earlier novel: for disease, separation and exile are conditions that come upon us unexpectedly and unbidden. They are an illustration of what Camus meant by the 'absurdity' of the human condition and the seemingly chance nature of human undertakings. It is not by accident that he has Grand, for no apparent reason, report a conversation overheard in a tobacconist concerning 'a young company employee who had killed an Arab on a beach' (p. 43). This, of course, is an allusion to Meurseault's seminal act of random violence in L'Etranger, and in Camus's mind it is connected to the ravages of pestilence in The Plague by more than just their common Algerian setting.
But Camus did more than insert into his story vignettes and emotions drawn from his writings and his personal situation. He put himself very directly into the characters of the novel, using three of them in particular to represent and illuminate his distinctive moral perspective. Rambert, the young journalist cut off from his wife in Paris, is initially desperate to escape the quarantined town. His obsession with his personal suffering makes him indifferent to the larger tragedy, from which he feels quite detached — he is not, after all, a citizen of Oran, but was caught there by the vagaries of chance. It is on the very eve of his getaway that he realizes how, despite himself, he has become part of the community and shares its fate; ignoring the risk and in the face of his earlier, selfish needs, he remains in Oran and joins the 'health teams'. From a purely private resistance against misfortune he has graduated to the solidarity of a collective resistance against the common scourge.
Camus's identification with Dr Rieux echoes his shifting mood in these years. Rieux is a man who, faced with suffering and a common crisis, does what he must and becomes a leader and an example not out of heroic courage or careful reasoning but rather from a sort of necessary optimism. By the late 1940s Camus was exhausted and depressed by the burden of expectations placed on him as a public intellectual: as he confided to his notebooks, 'everyone wants the man who is still searching to have reached his conclusions'.4 From the existentialist philosopher (a tag that Camus always disliked) people awaited a polished worldview; but Camus had none to offer.5 As he expressed it through Rieux, he was 'weary of the world in which he lived'; all he could offer with any certainty was 'some feeling for his fellow men and was determined for his part to reject any injustice and any compromise' (p.12).
Dr Rieux does the right thing just because he sees clearly what needs doing. In Tarrou, Camus invested a more developed exposition of his moral thinking. Tarrou, like Camus, is in his mid-thirties; he left home, by his own account, in disgust at his father's advocacy of the death penalty — a subject of intense concern to Camus and on which he wrote widely in the post-war years.6 Tarrou has reflected painfully upon his past life and commitments, and his confession to Rieux is at the heart of the novel's moral message: 'I thought I was struggling against the plague. I learned that I had indirectly supported the deaths of thousands of men, that I had even caused their deaths by approving the actions and principles that inevitably led to them' (p. 193).
This passage can be read as Camus's own rueful reflections upon his passage through the Communist Party in Algeria during the 1930s. But Tarrou's conclusions go beyond the admission of political error: 'we are all in the plague… All I know is that one must do one's best not to be a plague victim… And this is why I have decided to reject everything that, directly or indirectly, makes people die or justifies others in making them die' (p. 194–5). This is the authentic voice of Albert Camus and it sketches out the position he would take towards ideological dogma, political or judicial murder and all forms of ethical irresponsibility for the rest of his life — a stance that would later cost him dearly in friends and even influence in the polarized world of the Parisian intelligentsia.
Tarrou/Camus's apologia for his refusals and his commitments returns us to the status of The Plague. It is a novel that succeeds at various levels as any great novel must, but it is above all and unmistakably a moral tale. Camus was much taken with Moby Dick and, like Melville, he was not embarrassed to endow his story with symbols and metaphors. But Melville had the luxury of moving freely back and forth from the narrative of a whale hunt to a fable of human obsession; between Camus's Oran and the dilemma of human choice there lay the reality of life in Vichy France between 1940 and 1944. Readers of The Plague, today as in 1947, are therefore not wrong to approach it as an allegory of the occupation years.
In part this is because Camus makes clear that this is a story about 'us'. Most of the story is told in the third person. But strategically dispersed through the text is the occasional 'we', and the 'we' in question — at least for Camus's primary audience — is the French in 1947. The 'calamity' that has befallen the citizens of fictionalized Oran is the one that came upon France in 1940, with the military defeat, the abandonment of the Republic and the establishment of the regime of Vichy under German tutelage. Camus's account of the coming of the rats echoed a widespread view of the divided condition of France itself in 1940: 'It was as though the very soil on which our houses were built was purging itself of an excess of bile, that it was letting boils and abscesses rise to the surface, which up to then had been devouring it inside' (p. 15). Many in France, at first, shared Father Paneloux's initial reaction: '"my brethren, you have deserved it"' (p. 73).
For a long time people don't realize what is happening and life seems to go on — 'In appearance, nothing had changed' (p. 49), 'The town was inhabited by people asleep on their feet' (p. 141). Later, when the plague has passed, amnesia sets in — 'they denied that we [sic] had been that benumbed people' (p. 229). All this and much more — the black market, the failure of administrators to call things by their name and assume the moral leadership of the nation — so well described the recent French past that Camus's intentions could hardly be misread.
Nevertheless, most of Camus's targets resist easy labels, and the allegory runs quite against the grain of the polarized moral rhetoric in use after the war. Cottard, who accepts the plague as too strong to combat and who thinks the health teams are a waste of time, is clearly someone who 'collaborates' in the fate of the town. He thrives in the new situation and has everything to lose from a return to the 'old ways'. But he is sympathetically drawn, and Tarrou and the others continue to frequent him and even discuss with him their actions. All they ask, in Tarrou's words, is that he 'try not to spread the microbe knowingly' (p. 122).
At the end Cottard is brutally beaten by the newly liberated citizenry — a reminder of the violent punishments meted out at the Liberation to presumed collaborators, often by men and women whose enthusiasm for violent revenge helped them and others forget their own wartime compromises. Camus's insight into the anger and resentment born of genuine suffering and guilty memory introduces a nuance of empathy that was rare among his contemporaries and it lifts his story clear of the conventions of the time.
The same insights (and integrity — Camus was writing from personal experience) shape his representation of the resisters themselves. It is not by chance that Grand, the mousy, downtrodden unaspiring clerk, is presented as the embodiment of the real, unheroic resistance. For Camus, as for Rieux, resistance was not about heroism at all — or, if it was, then it was the heroism of goodness. 'It may seem a ridiculous idea, but the only way to fight the plague is with decency' (p. 125). Joining the health teams was not in itself an act of great significance — rather, 'not doing it would have been incredible at the time' (p. 101). This point is made over and over again in the novel, as though Camus were worried lest it be missed: 'when you see the suffering it brings,' Rieux remarks at one point, 'you have to be mad, blind or a coward to resign yourself to the plague' (p. 96).
Camus, like the narrator, refuses to 'become an over-eloquent eulogist of a determination and heroism to which he attaches only a moderate degree of importance' (p. 101). This has to be understood in context. There was of course tremendous courage and sacrifice in the French resistance; many men and women died for the cause. But Camus was uncomfortable with the smug myth of heroism that had grown up in post-war France, and he abhorred the tone of moral superiority with which self-styled former Resisters (including some of his famous fellow intellectuals) looked down upon those who did nothing. In Camus's view it was inertia, or ignorance, which accounted for people's failure to act. The Cottards of the world were the exception; most people are better than you think — as Tarrou puts it, 'You just need to give them the opportunity' (p. 115).7
In consequence, some of Camus's intellectual contemporaries did not particularly care for The Plague. They expected a more 'engaged' sort of writing from him and they found the book's ambiguities and the tone of disabused tolerance and moderation politically incorrect. Simone de Beauvoir especially disapproved strongly of Camus's use of a natural pestilence as a substitute for (she thought) Fascism — it relieves men of their political responsibilities, she insisted, and runs away from History and real political problems.8 Even today this criticism sometimes surfaces among academic students of Camus: he lets Fascism and Vichy off the hook, they charge, by deploying the metaphor of a 'nonideological and nonhuman plague'.9
Such commentaries are doubly revealing. In the first place they show just how much Camus's apparently straightforward story was open to misunderstanding. The allegory may have been tied to Vichy France but the 'plague' transcends political labels. It was not Fascism that Camus was aiming at — an easy target, after all, especially in 1947 — but dogma, conformity, compliance and cowardice in all their intersecting public forms. Tarrou, after all, is no Fascist; but he insists that in earlier days, when he complied with doctrines that authorized the suffering of others for higher goals, he too was a carrier of the plague even as he fought it.
Secondly, the charge that Camus was too ambiguous in his judgements, too unpolitical in his metaphors, illuminates not his weaknesses but his strengths. This is something that we are perhaps better placed to understand now than were The Plague's first readers. Thanks to Primo Levi and Vaclav Havel we have become familiar with the 'grey zone'. We understand better that in conditions of extremity there are rarely to be found comfortingly simple categories of good and evil, guilty and innocent. We know more about the choices and compromises faced by men and women in hard times, and we are no longer so quick to judge those who accommodate themselves to impossible situations. Men may do the right thing from a mixture of motives and may with equal ease do terrible deeds with the best of intentions — or no intentions at all.'
It does not follow from this that the plagues that humankind brings down upon itself are 'natural' or unavoidable. But assigning responsibility for them — and thus preventing them in the future — may not be an easy matter. And with Hannah Arendt we have been introduced to a further complication: the notion of the 'banality of evil' (a formulation that Camus himself would probably have taken care to avoid), the idea that unspeakable crimes can be committed by very unremarkable men with clear consciences.10
These are now commonplaces of moral and historical debate. But Albert Camus came to them first, in his own words, with an originality of perspective and intuition that eluded almost all his contemporaries. That is what they found so disconcerting in his writing. Camus was a moralist who unhesitatingly distinguished good from evil but abstained from condemning human frailty. He was a student of the 'absurd' who refused to give in to necessity.11 He was a public man of action, who insisted that all truly important questions came down to individual acts of kindness and goodness. And, like Tarrou, he was a believer in absolute truths who accepted the limits of the possible: 'Other men will make history… All I say is that on this earth there are pestilences and there are victims — and as far as possible one must refuse to be on the side of the pestilence' (p. 195)
Thus The Plague teaches no lessons. Camus was a moraliste but he was no moralizer. He claimed to have taken great care to try and avoid writing a tract, and to the extent that his novel offers little comfort to political polemicists of any school he can be said to have succeeded. But for that very reason it has not merely outlived its origins as an allegory of occupied France but has transcended its era. Looking back on the grim record of the twentieth century we can see more clearly now that Albert Camus had identified the central moral dilemmas of the age. Like Hannah Arendt, he saw that 'the problem of evil will be the fundamental question of post-war intellectual life in Europe — as death became the fundamental question after the last war'.12
Fifty years after its first appearance, in an age of post-totalitarian satisfaction with our condition and prospects, when intellectuals pronounce the End of History and politicians proffer globalization as a universal palliative, the closing sentence of Camus's great novel rings truer than ever, a firebell in the night of complacency and forgetting: '[Rieux] knew that… the plague bacillus never dies or vanishes entirely … it can remain dormant for dozens of years in furniture or clothing … it waits patiently in bedrooms, cellars, trunks, handkerchiefs and old papers, and… perhaps the day will come when, for the instruction or misfortune of mankind, the plague will rouse its rats and send them to die in some well-contented city.'

　　《鼠疫》读后感(二)：看惯了日本战后文学 来看看加缪《鼠疫》里有点不同的东西

上帝等你们不来，实在厌倦了，就让灾难来光顾你们
对日本文学稍有了解的人都知道“战后文学”这个词语。很好理解，它是在两次世界大战中诞生的，展现出战后日本人们的生活状态以及心理变化。
不管是现代还是当代日本文学中都存在典型的战后色彩。比如芥川龙之介代表作《罗生门》、太宰治代表作《人间失格》，就连近年来最受中国读者喜欢的悬疑小说作家东野圭吾，作品也包含许多战后元素。
每个国家受战争影响都不同，呈现出事物的形态也有差异。法国作家加缪就是典型的战后文学代表作家，他的作品中更多地表现存在主义和人道主义关怀，深刻地揭示出人在异己的世界中的孤独、个人与自身的日益异化，以及罪恶和死亡的不可避免。
但他在揭示世界荒诞的同时却并不绝望和颓丧，主张要在荒诞中奋起反抗，在绝望中坚持真理和正义，他为世人指出了一条基督教和马克思主义以外的自由人道主义道路，因此加缪还有“荒谬哲学”的代表人物的称呼。
加缪的成名作应该是《局外人》，而他的这部长篇小说《鼠疫》曾获法国批评奖，确定了加缪在西方当代文学中的重要性。
今天就来讲讲《鼠疫》这本书。
《鼠疫》这本书给我的感觉和加布瑞埃拉·泽文的《玛格丽特小镇》很相似。看完后感觉好像能明白作者想要表达的内容，可是总觉得自己领悟到的都是皮毛，于是就还想再看一遍。
在《鼠疫》中，加缪为我们展现出鼠疫洗礼整个城市中的众生百态。比如说灾难面前官僚们的不作为、鼠疫时广场上淫乱的男女，在遍地尸野中当犯罪变成不需要承担后果后人们的失控，面对死亡时不同人展现出来的源自内心最真实的反应。所有的一切在鼠疫、在灾难、在死亡面前都被放大，充满了讽刺意味的哲学。
当然肯定有对人性歌颂的存在，比如里厄医生率领众人对抗鼠疫，比如说里厄母亲在家里等待儿子归来等，但这只是很浅显的内容。
书中多次描写面对灾难中人们的心里变化，从鼠疫最初城市中的人们的生活以及当局对鼠疫本身的恐惧。到后来鼠疫最终到来，死亡人数一天天增加，人们从对鼠疫的对抗、恐惧转变为驯服和顺从，从渴望从城市逃离或者期盼亲人归来到与整座城市共存亡，到最后鼠疫最终离去后人们行为的变化。
在这人世上，什么都不值得人离开自己所爱。然而，我也离开了，却弄不清楚为什么。
其实文中很少出现这种直接展示内心世界的描述，作者通过这些大篇幅的心理描写，在引导读者进行反思，对于鼠疫的反思，对于大灾难的反思，对于死亡的反思，对于人性的反思，并呼唤人们在灾难面前保持最基础的善良和道德感。
到这里我们能看出作者心中的自由人道主义精神。
透过两层外衣，来到深层处。
从鼠疫的角度来高瞻，监狱所有人，从监狱长一直到命不值一钱的囚犯，无不判了死刑，也许这是破天荒第一次，一种绝对的公正统治了监狱。
他们根本不顾明显的事实，从容不迫地否认我们曾亲历过这样疯狂的世界，杀个人如同打死苍蝇一样习以为常，他们也否认这种确凿无疑的野蛮行径、这种处心积虑的疯狂举动，否认这种带来对一切非现时食物肆意践踏的监禁、这种令所有尚未被杀死的人惊愕的死亡气味，他们最后还否认我们曾经是这样吓晕了头的民众，每天都有一部分人的尸体成堆投进焚尸炉化为浓烟，而其余的人则戴着无能为力的恐惧的枷锁，等待这种厄运轮到自己头上。
作者通过各种折射和暗喻的手法，毫不吝啬地表达出对于当时社会现状和时代背景。即是在被德国法西斯占领后的法国世界。
最后，我非常期待这本书拍成电影。尤其是拍出80年代欧洲电影的感觉，恢弘的画面、深刻的寓意、再加上精湛的演技，绝对非常棒。
最后，“艺术是不分国界的，艺术也是不分时代的。”
感谢加缪！

　　《鼠疫》读后感(三)：鼠疫病菌并没有“灭绝”

这是我看的加缪的第二本小说，《鼠疫》是一部寓言，用来警示我们这个时代。鼠疫发生前，俄兰城这座10万多人的城市，人人都过着自给自足，无忧无虑，老死不相忘的生活。当鼠疫来临时没有人相信，或者说是没有人愿意去相信。而当鼠疫爆发时，城里的人出不去，城外的人进不来。作者通过记事者的描述，来进一步地叙述着这座城市里发生着的一切，所有人都是一种麻木不仁的状态。里面的每个角色在现实中都能找到，都是我们在故事里的缩影，并且和我们的命运一样，他们也会死亡。
《鼠疫》延续了《局外人》里面的荒谬，它将世间百态讽刺地淋漓尽致，从城中荒谬的人群，我们便能看到加缪的叙述是十分有力的。医生李尔从这场瘟疫中找寻到了友情的珍贵，对爱人的思念，对亲人的呵护，对众生的怜悯。塔霍找到了人生所追求的爱，却也荒诞不经地死去，加缪就是想以此来表达对这个荒谬的社会的批判，个人的牺牲往往没有任何效果，并不能警醒多少世人。
《鼠疫》无疑是一部伟大的作品，书中的叙述体现了时代的无奈和命运的不确定，在一个人人自危的境地，没有多少人会在乎他人的想法，而只有那些有理想，有追求，敢于挑战权威的人，才会有所成就。

　　《鼠疫》读后感(四)：与鼠疫无关之评

第一次听到《鼠疫》这本书，是从一个朋友那里。这位朋友非常喜欢加缪的作品，自己还有个小号的网名，叫局外人。说到这里，了解这位朋友的其他朋友们肯定知道，我说的是如此兄。如此兄的才华远胜于我，他爱读的书的逼格也远高于我。我记得他曾写过一篇叫《诺贝尔文学奖一百单八将》的文章，相当有水准。从那个时候，我就知道，他对诺贝尔文学奖的那些得主和各自的作品是相当熟悉的。我也喜欢诺贝尔文学奖，大学期间还装模做样的买了一套极厚的《诺贝尔文学奖大系》，可惜的是，直到今天我还没有怎么看过。
《鼠疫》是诺贝尔文学奖得主加缪的力作，相当有水准，绝对的名著。我不止一次听也不过如此给我提起《鼠疫》，他也不止一次地建议我去看看《鼠疫》。不过我深知自己的水平，一直不敢也不想去翻看这本《鼠疫》，直到最近，我终于从图书馆里专门借了这本书，拿回家来研读。
实话实说，我虽然将这本名著跌跌撞撞地读完了，但是并未能完全体会这部大作。没有办法，这就是名著的特点，读一遍恐怕很难体会，你只有不断地读，不断地去想，才能多明白一点。当然了，这也跟我的文化层次有关系。尽管我是本科生，但我却是理科生，我能看懂《代数数论》这样的专业书籍，但是面对这些诺贝尔文学奖的大作时，它们其实也是我专业之外的专业书籍。在这一点上，我就十分地佩服也不过如此。他也不是中文专业科班出身，但是文学水平却是相当深厚。他不仅仅是爱读这些诺贝尔文学奖的作品，而且还读透了这些作品，要不然也绝对不会写出有关诺贝尔文学奖一百单八将的文章。
我之所以读这本《鼠疫》，就是为了纪念我永远的朋友，也不过如此。他走了快一年了，我不时会想起他。我和他的命运有些相似，颇有种同病相怜的感觉，不过我比他幸运得多，但他却比我坚韧得多。尽管命运颇为不公，但他却从不怨天尤人，反倒是坦然面对这残酷的现实。用他的原话，就是这一切也不过如此。就是这样，简简单单地五个字，代表了他内心深处的遗憾、痛苦和挣扎，同时也是力量、信仰和勇敢。他很平凡，但也很伟大。
记得有一次，有一本心灵鸡汤类的书在约评，我申请到了，问也不过如此，他要不要看，要的话我寄给他。他对我讲，这种心灵鸡汤类的书他向来是忽略的。听到这句话，我没再问。那一刻我突然觉得自己很浅薄。如果我真的需要励志，寻找内心深处的力量，哪里又用得着去书中找，摆在身边就有现成的教材。从那一天起，我也不喜欢看心灵鸡汤类的书了，也从来没有再约过。
名义上这是一篇《鼠疫》的书评，其实是我想借《鼠疫》的宝地来宣泄对如此的怀念。也许有人觉得，这是对大文豪的不敬，但我却认为这是对我的朋友也不过如此最好的礼物。在他生前，我一直没有机会看这本《鼠疫》，来和自己的朋友一起讨论他最爱的作品，这是我的一个遗憾。现在他走了，才了此夙愿，真的是晚了。
黄金万两容易得，知心一个也难求。虽然我和也不过如此没有见过面，仅仅是在微信中听过对方的声音，在群相册里欣赏过对方的英姿，但是大家却聊得很开心。我三十岁那年认识了他，现在我本命年，六年的时光里，我们聊了很多很多，一直都有种相见恨晚的感觉。可是如此，相见恨晚之后又多了个相别恨早了。
翻看着我们的聊天记录，断断续续地写完此文。纵使我还有千言万语，也无法讲与他听了。
谨以此文献给我永远的朋友——也不过如此。

　　《鼠疫》读后感(五)：荒谬

最初听说鼠疫是在“与玛格丽特的午后”在这部法国电影里,优雅的老太太每天中午与不识字的基曼相约在小花园读世界文学名著,而鼠疫恰好就是其中之一。

在每个社会内部,都有自己地狱般的存在，瘟疫可以摧毁一座幸福的城市。

以医生李尔的角度，用日记的形式讲述这件事情。如题，鼠疫在人们悄无声息的时候突然袭击这个平凡的俄兰城，人们惶恐，畏惧，不安，失望，绝望，在鼠疫笼罩之下的俄兰城就如同行尸走肉的聚集地一样。最后，当鼠疫彻底离开，人们欢呼庆祝，生活又恢复平常，既像有事发生过一样，又像无事发生过一样。但墓地里的尸体，上空中曾飘过油腻的灰烟，却是真实的存在过。

加缪觉得，既然作为人，就应该好好体验世界的荒谬所在“刚一体会到荒谬的存在，荒谬就变成了我们迸发出的对生命的热情，这是最激动人心的感情。”

　　《鼠疫》读后感(六)：难受死我了。

看完这本书我好难受，真的好难受。加缪太狠，他把所有丑恶都揭露了，现在我好像只看到了开枪背后血淋淋的真相，血淋淋的人性。
在书的前大部分，或许是阅历不够的原因，我差点放弃了阅读——脑子里一片混沌，不知所云，篇幅冗长到我不停地看还有多少没看。但就在今天，我读到了塔鲁先生独白的部分，忽然一下子全都明白了。之前出现所有人物的命运，那些我连名字都记不住的人物，他们为何出现，他们的死亡背后究竟意味着什么，全都明白了。
  故事的主人公，除了格朗，似乎结局都带着某种悲剧性。神甫先生象征着宗教，他做过两次布道，企图使宗教成为人们在苦难时的精神支柱，但不幸的是，神甫先生死了。作者似乎在暗示，痛苦与罪恶交加的年代，若非真爱上帝之士，绝无可能真正成为人们的慰藉。格朗先生运气还不错，在他患上鼠疫那一霎那，鼠疫又似乎打了退堂鼓，从他的身体中撤出。而尽管他最后还是没有见到让娜，格朗先生还是在追逐爱情的过程中选择了放手。结尾那句：“我要剔除所有形容词！”令人印象深刻，大概，格朗先生已经做出了选择——不再纠结过多的细枝末节，而生活成一个简单的人吧。柯塔尔最后疯了，他难以接受鼠疫已经消退的事实，又害怕自己因为过去的罪行被抓，所以选择开枪杀人，最后杀了自己。里厄，我们的大夫，当他最后鼠疫之战的幸存者之一，走在大街上感受人声鼎沸时，我想他是寂寞的。妻子与挚友的去世，让他这一场战争赢得是那么寂寞。但他也是幸运的，至少，鼠疫褪去后的第一缕阳光，曾照射在他的脸上。
  最让我印象深刻又难过的是塔鲁。他所回忆的那件处死红头发猫头鹰的情景，一幕幕地好像我也曾经历过。那些法庭上道貌岸然的家伙，他们为什么，他们凭什么对一个人处以死刑？他们何德何能？即使这个人犯下滔天大罪，他杀死过无数人，那我们，自以为高尚清白的我们，又怎么能用同样肮脏污秽的手段去给予他以惩罚呢？塔鲁的父亲，原本是想孩子在法庭上能看到父亲的威严，感受律法的庄重，却没想到这给孩子留下了永远的惶恐不安。在塔鲁看来，他们不是正义的化身，而是披着羊皮的刽子手啊！
  或许罪恶真的永远无法用任何行径来消除，它是一个死循环，我们解不开它。
  塔鲁说，每个人都感染着鼠疫，只是我们不知道。人，要么当屠夫，要么当牺牲者。那么塔鲁是怎样的人呢？他协助里厄治疗鼠疫，但最后却还是死于鼠疫。在目睹过死刑现场后，他立志当圣人。他将自己的后半生都献给了治愈他人，只为获得心中的宁静。他说自己当不了医生，可他的行为分明还是在救济天下。当所有人都盲目在既成的逻辑里时，只有他看到了死刑犯猫头鹰的惴惴不安。里厄说自己对怎样成为英雄不感兴趣，他只感兴趣怎样做人。但在那个被鼠疫包围的城市，又究竟有多少人知道怎么做人呢？塔鲁是其中一个，他做到了，不仅是人，也是圣人。
  塔鲁最后死了。我在那一刻真切地感觉到了什么叫难过，什么叫无力。他就躺在床上，淋巴结已经布满了他的全身，但他还是微笑着的，让里厄和他母亲不用料理他了。
  这样一位圣人，前前后后救济了那样多的患者，但最后却仍然死在了鼠疫的手上。或许真如他自己所说，人在生时是不可能停止痛苦的，我们只会在痛苦之中循环，而只有死时方能获得安宁。
塔鲁最终获得了他的安宁。
书的结尾，那个被鼠疫围困的城市终于在冬天到来之际迎来了阳光。鼠疫奇迹般地，一夜之间地消失了。万千群众终于走上了街头，他们在火车站将流浪感放逐，转身迎来爱人的拥抱，而那个拥抱是他们期许了一年的。在那一刻，所有的痛苦仿佛都融化在了阳光里。那些侥幸从鼠疫手中逃脱的人儿，在冬日里轻轻歌唱，歌唱自由，歌唱和平。
鼠疫还会来吗？我想会的。因为每一个人身上都有着鼠疫的影子，我们唯一能做的，或许就是不要呼气，将鼠疫传染给别人吧。

　　《鼠疫》读后感(七)：别杀那只老鼠 ——人道地于荒谬中存在

如果说世界上还有什么东西值得永远想望而且有时还能得到，那就是人间的真情。
——阿贝尔·加缪《鼠疫》
一
上帝早已死去，世界不可认知。现实剩下荒谬，生活仅存幻影。这里鼠疫肆虐，这里每天更新精确的死亡数字，这里的城市在溃脓，这里的人们在街头寂然死去……
这里是加缪的《鼠疫》之城，阿赫兰。十五万言的小说讲了一部“人”的编年史——海滨之城遭遇瘟疫，城市封闭，人们恐慌、期许、麻木、死去，城门重新打开。故事结束。生活过分阴暗，现实无从解释，存在的意义比空气稀薄。没人问为什么，顽强地面对荒谬，坚韧地直视贫瘠。这里正在上演荒诞戏剧——
《鼠疫》就这么开始了。成群的老鼠摇摇晃晃走上街头，死在人们脚下，窄窄的头颅面目狰狞，口吐黑血。从前它们都是隐蔽地死在下水沟渠，现在它们正大光明地死在大街上，到处叠满了绒绒的黑色尸体。疫病开始传播，人们的淋巴结变成硬块，腹股沟肿胀，之后在同样的痛苦呻吟中纷纷倒下。当局下令封闭城市，各种情绪和鼠疫一道在人群中蔓延。
厄里医生在病患间奔走，他和不久前刚到此地定居的塔鲁、还有一位小公务员格朗，一道组织了防疫志愿队。困在此地的记者，朗贝尔时时刻刻想着法子，怎样才能逃出城去。帕纳鲁神甫慷慨激昂地向市民们宣讲“鼠疫是上帝对罪恶之人类的惩罚”的讲演。倒买倒卖的贩子，柯塔尔变得格外高兴自在，因为警察可无暇管他从前的勾当。坚信法规面前人人平等的法官，奥东先生住进了隔离营。厄里的母亲每日静候着儿子回家。独居的老人用纸片引逗来楼下的一群猫咪，然后使劲吐唾沫。老哮喘病人躺在床上数着两锅鹰嘴豆计算时间……与此同时，城里的二十万市民正在高烧中忍受着鼠疫。
在鼠疫最猖獗的日子，城里的焚尸炉开足马力，烧得正欢。死亡数字的曲线升到最高点并打算一直懒洋洋地呆在那儿。小小的公墓一拓再拓，最后连葬仪也被高效地简化。痛苦一旦成为日常，人们便也习惯了。直至忽然某天，鼠疫退却，隔离营里的病患渐渐走出，市民们在小心翼翼的庆幸中恢复，当局下令城门打开——朗贝尔与情人重逢了，战士塔鲁死了，格朗写好了给出走妻子的信，厄里医生在外疗养的妻子传来噩耗，疯狂的柯塔尔用枪四下射人群。老哮喘病人依旧数着两锅鹰嘴豆，厄里的母亲沉默地爱着她的儿子……街头的男男女女们搂搂抱抱，面红耳赤。
“这一刻，痛苦的时光正在过去，而遗忘的季节尚未开始。”
二、人
当如此转述时，《鼠疫》于我们不过一个故事，遥远、陌生、概念的故事。即便我们阅读着死亡，品味着哀痛的酒浆，所面对的也不过是被抽象、被数字的人群，人们，人类——三十万死难者，一百三十二人死于恐怖袭击，四百万战争难民，一名幼儿被确诊脑癌晚期……都是一样的。还能看见什么？在场的都经已消隐——我们指着高大的纪念碑，指着过去生活仅存的残迹，“他们在那里！”唯有记忆留存，而生活继续。
《鼠疫》留下什么？断片的故事，零散的记忆，模糊的人群，大量充斥的象征与隐喻，加缪却从不曾向我们隐晦他的道理——这是一部“人”的编年史，一部关于“人”如何在绝境中抗争、死亡、彻底失败的历史。而“人”从来不是抽象的理念，他是每一个活生生的、有血有肉的个体，除非当他已背离了爱，背离了同情。“我在这儿就听到他们演讲了：‘我们那些死者……’说罢就去大吃大喝”。老哮喘病人对立纪念碑一事的嘲讽正是存在主义对“人”的深刻理解——虽然加缪从不承认自己是一位存在主义者，但在为“人”立说这一面上却和所有的存在主义哲学家所宣称的毫无二致。他们同样重视个体的主体性价值，在社会中重新思考个体存在的处境与地位。
这种个体之“人”的价值，首先凸显在小说的叙述角度上。整部小说由文中所谓的“笔者”，第一人称的“我”叙说。而“我”在小说最后承认自己正是鼠疫的亲历者，厄里医生。“我”的视角通贯全篇，“我”审视的是包括自己在内的全部人的共同境遇。生活的形色荒诞、无稽之举经由“我”作为旁观的第三方加以揭露，克制的描述，冷静的笔墨，适时的黑色幽默，对荒谬现状的调侃嘲弄，对共同境遇的同情理解，统贯始终。从“我”的视角出发，浮生百态的小人物构筑的点与二十万“人”铺展的面，交相缀连，这是一幅众生百相的浮世绘，悲欢离合不加分别，形色众人各有己说。
乍看这是一种相当客观冷静的叙说方式。正如厄里自己坦言“他（指他自己）是在为某种犯罪行为作证”，这样《鼠疫》就相当一部不带同情的历史编册。然而，这显然有悖作者本意——厄里补充道，“他分担了同胞们全部的忧患，而且把他们的处境当成自己的处境”。“我”常常是居于全体居民之上以整体考察他们冷漠的旁观者，又时常怀着深切的悲悯哀叹着人们的处境。“我”就是全体的一员——“我们”荒谬地共同存在着。这种刻意拉开距离又强调同情的独特视角——“我”作为旁观者的在场，也正是厄里医生作为亲历者的感同身受。人称在这里变得模糊不清，他者与己身交相重叠，由此全书的主题在叙事角度的层面就已凸显——同情，或者加缪更愿意称之为真情或人道。
萨特曾在《存在主义是一种人道主义》中论述到，“虽然人的意图可以各不相同，但至少没有一个对我是完全陌生的，原因是任何一个人类意图都表现为企图超过这些限制（即早先规定了人在宇宙中基本处境的一切限制），或者扩大这些限制，不然就是否定这些限制，或是使自己适应这些限制。其结果是，任何一个意图，不管会是多么个别的，都具有普遍价值”，“在选择我自己时，我制造了这种普遍性，在理解任何别的人、任何别的时代的意图时，我也在制造这种普遍性。”鼠疫正是加缪制造的一场最大的“限制”，一切渴望、悲哀、欲求、绝望……都是可以理解，都是值得同情的。人性被取消了，取而代之的是每一个鲜活个体“曾在肉体和精神上一起经受过痛苦：难以忍受的空虚、无法挽回的分离、不能满足的欲求”。
基于对人的重新发掘和定义，存在主义者发起的是对西方形而上传统的一次背叛，甚至是对形而上思维的整体挑战。在存在主义作家那里，处境下的同情被凸显，而人性则极少被列入讨论范围——或者更准确地说，“人”根本没有先定的本性，是“人”的存在决定他的特殊属性，而非相反。他们一致地更倾向于讨论人的共同境遇，而非人的本性。《鼠疫》正可作典型一例：人无一例外地被抛进了鼠疫的世界，在这个外部的、相斥的世界中接受永恒的“放逐”，在流放中自觉不自觉地抗争，即便抗争的结果必然是失败。加缪不再追问善恶的来源，不再探求人性善恶的本质。人，存在着，而存在是荒谬的。也即意味着，“为什么存在？”这样的问题不再对应形而上的答案——因为上帝，因为理念，因为绝对精神。“为什么存在？”根本就没有答案，存在是起点，更是终点。存在的本旨不是对生活的诘难，而仅仅是生活，顽强、坚韧。在鼠疫里，人们可以有所指向，有所期盼，更常有的情绪是时时怀缅过去，时时怅望将来。荒诞的境遇要求同情，要求抗争，而非对荒诞的拷问与诘难。
简言之，加缪摒弃的是对人的抽象与理想化，所有的人对自身的存在境况负责。此种人道主义就是对他人的同情与理解，对己身选择的承认与担当。人的共同处境是预设的前提，同时由于处境的荒谬性质，许许多多相互平等的个体被置于此种境地中所要求的是个体价值的本位，要求的是个体对境遇的战斗与抗争，而非以僵化的、抽象的、漠然的非人道压制鲜活个体。非人道即是鼠疫，即是人的荒诞处境，即是一切可能将人置之死地的战争、法律、宗教、政治、瘟疫……“战争很愚蠢，但并不妨碍人们打下去。”加缪的幽默点到即止。
这里有两种危险，一是存在主义对人类处境的洞察被理解为虚无主义，二是对同情的呼唤化解为庸俗意义的人道救助精神。然而，正是基于对荒谬处境之揭露，加缪对人道的理解实质上是，人存在着，并以这些正在存在着的人为一切意义之归结。在存在主义者眼中，人的处境或许是虚无的，但存在的人从来不是虚无的。
这种个体、社会截然二分的看法本身正是抽象逻辑的产物。相较于存在主义者反对的对个人的抽象，他们的抽象逻辑所不同之处在于，对人类处境的整体抽象最终着眼在个体的生存或死亡。加缪给我们呈现的每一幅世界陷落的图景，都是对身处其中的每个人（甚至包括作者自己）的逝去的深切哀叹。
三、鼠
在小说的第一部，老鼠们纷纷走出洞窟，在街头死去。人们或神色漠然，或心存疑惑，报社当作轶闻报道，当局派人清理。老鼠的痛苦（这些卑劣低等的生物真能痛苦？），理所当然地不列入考虑——有些东西确实已经死了，而且腐败。这里，加缪对老鼠们的惨死之状，每日死去的老鼠数目，灭鼠署又如何如何清理，不惜笔墨地一一加以克制的详述，整体的、旁观者的详述。
笔墨愈是冷静，生活愈是充满黑色幽默——老鼠受疫病而死的境遇，与后面市民们受疫病折磨的惨状、人们如何麻木、当局如何处理死尸，惊人地相互照应。我们不禁怀疑，在加缪的叙说情境中，人类在多大程度上被置于与老鼠同等的维度而被关照。至少，我们可以说，老鼠作为一种象征，其处境多少与人相似——正如俗语“过街老鼠”，人人都会想着去打，但没人想过那只老鼠是怎样的惊慌失措，它过的又是怎样凄凉辛酸的日子，它的处境又是怎样的乖诞荒谬。同样，鼠疫中死去的老鼠和人，我们怀有一丝同情？
在鼠疫中，与人处在同一维度的老鼠，能否要求被绝对地理解呢？理解我们身边的每一个人，每一只垂死挣扎的老鼠？加缪笔下的每个个体，乃至每一只暴露在众目睽睽之下的老鼠，又是否都有权利高喊“我自由”，“我无罪”？首先有一种可能，即是老鼠本身是罪恶的，它身上带有某种腐败的道德印记。如此，打死任何一只过街老鼠都是理所当然且合乎逻辑的。存在主义者会发问：哪一只老鼠是罪恶的？还是全部老鼠都是罪恶的？又如何断定呢？老鼠和人一样，都是鼠疫的受害者。难道鼠疫中的死难者都如帕纳鲁神甫所言，鼠疫是上帝的惩罚，是己身罪恶应有的报应？这是一种可能性，但这就迫使全体人类和老鼠一起皈依。
存在主义者会回答：从来没有先定的罪恶，道德判断首先是失效的，因为道德的对象永远是抽象的人或者人的类型。而任何鲜活的个体都是无法被抽象的，他的性质永远在形成中，或者说他的每一次行动、每一次选择才决定他的性质。那么，形而上学提出的诘难，“罪恶从哪里来”又该作何回答呢？不是老鼠，不是死难者，那么大家都纯洁了，是鼠疫罪恶吗？是现实生活罪恶吗？
存在主义者回答说，是的，一定程度上。那么，任何空洞的英雄主义、激昂的法西斯热忱，以至于被认为坚定公正的国家司法机构或者道德审判，都将被完全悬隔，因为没有任何人有权运用这些抽象的杀人工具置任何一个鲜活生命于死地。只有鼠疫是罪恶的，人不是。塔鲁喊出，“我绝不会认为那种令人厌恶的屠杀有丝毫，您听见了吗？丝毫的道理！”任何一只老鼠都不应接受屠杀，更不应被屠杀，以任何的名义——公正、罪恶、替天行道、以恶制恶，全是行不通，并且无法忍受的。鼠疫已经扩散，我们只好满怀同情，投入战斗。
然而，这种对个人主体价值的强调，极容易滑向困境——他者判断的完全消解。每当存在主义者们呼唤着充满爱、充满理解、充满同情的世界回归，常常遭人嗤笑诟病——“你们无法作出任何可能的道德判断！”确实如此，在极端荒谬的处境，鼠疫中，连司法机构、行政部门、日常伦理，通统都显得底气不足。一定意义上，任何的道德判断也都是无效的，因为加缪并不承认人性具有任何先定的限制。加缪更是无意于道德法官的角色——道德判断徒然无力，没有任何宗教或道德被证明。无论是一心归家的朗贝尔，朝喵咪唾沫的老人，还是背负罪行的柯塔尔，人们多少都像是纯洁的圣婴，罪恶的只是鼠疫，身处其中的人们只是无辜沾染了鼠疫的戾气，任何人都可以当庭被宣布无罪释放。
于是，所有人都是社会的病患，罪恶的当然不是病人，只是世上无处不在的病毒与细菌染污了空气……加缪对市民们的整体叙说显得犹疑，他一面愤懑地激烈反对抽象的杀人方式（伦理、道德、战争、宗教、英雄主义、法西斯……），一面对于这些成功被辩护为无罪的人们隐约感到无可奈何——他们毕竟“沾染”上戾气，他们也毕竟生活在这里——罪恶和荒谬，和人一起，仍旧顽强地存在。
而这并不会成为存在主义者退缩、放弃的藉口，他们永远坚定地站在受害者一边，与鼠疫抗争。加缪笔下的塔鲁是一个痛恨抽象之英雄主义的实干家，他说，“当今世界上有祸患，也有牺牲品，必须尽可能避免站在祸患一边……当然，也需要第三种人，那就是真正的医生。”这里的隐喻：祸患（鼠疫）、牺牲品（死难者）、医生，即是现实生活、被打上腐败标识的鲜活个体、圣人。这也不妨与具体情境作简单的对应：第二次世界大战、劣等民族、不懈抗争着的存在主义者。在加缪看来，真正的圣人是永远站在弱势的每一个个体一边的，投向形而上范畴而寻找抽象的意义，永远都是对现实的一种逃避。
由此，存在主义真正旨在敦促人们直面生活的荒谬并不懈抗争。无论是神甫宣称“（对上帝的爱）意味着全面的忘我精神和轻视个人安危的气概”，还是市民们倡议为死于鼠疫的人立一座石碑，抑或习惯于抽象数字的政府官员，加缪都毫无留情地加以嘲讽。因为加缪从中再也看不到人——没有人在场，没有人存在，目之所至仅剩空洞的符号和抽象的意义。
可以说，《鼠疫》宣称的是一场对抗一切形而上之抽象的战斗，他们一齐对上帝、对法西斯、对极端的极权主义、对抽象化每一个鲜活的人感到极度恐惧。加缪毫不掩饰对基督教神学的不满，“他（神甫）最大的愿望是，我们的同胞别在意那一天天的悲惨景象和垂死者的哀号，仍然向上天倾诉基督教徒的爱慕之情。其余的事上帝自会安排”；“他（神甫）较少看见人死亡，所以总能代表真理说话”；“基督徒看见一个无辜的人被挖掉了眼睛时，这个教徒要么失去信仰，要么同意别人挖掉自己的”。
同时，加缪对于世俗的“利己主义的爱情”也保持着一种矛盾的若即若离，“那些自满自足、对自己可怜又可厌的爱情生活津津乐道的人获得，起码有时获得，欢乐的奖赏，这是合理而又公正的”，“相反，那些想超越人类而去寻求连他们自己都想不清楚的东西的人，谁也没有找到答案”。加缪的叙说同样是犹疑的，对存在的个人（悲欢离合、生老病死）怀有深切同情，对个人的存在（人被“流放”于社会网络、国家机器、法律制度、伦理体系之中）又无可避免地觉察其荒谬，而这种犹疑或者正是存在主义者对人们荒谬处境的理解。
存在是合理的，存在是荒谬的。存在主义者最深沉的绝望在于人荒谬的处境，而他们所坚定的是每一个个体有限的生命正在存在着。而当我们说起“存在只是荒谬，抗争只有失败”时，所指为何？这是个反讽的问题——因为只有当我们问了“为什么存在？为什么抗争？”并试图从中发掘出解决问题的答案时，存在才会变得荒谬，抗争才会因为最终的失败毫无意义。
问题关键根本不在发问与否，而是存在着并且一直抗争下去。至于为什么，那可以留待圣人和习惯抽象思维的英雄主义者。对此，每日面对着鼠疫的牺牲品，成千上万曾经有血有肉的死难者，厄里回答道，“我觉得自己同失败的人比同圣人更能患难与共，我想，我对英雄主义和圣人之道都没有什么兴趣，我感兴趣的是怎样做人。”厄里是真正的医生，在鼠疫期间，他关心的是可以做什么，怎么做，而不是叩问为什么生活在鼠疫的世界里，又如何才能超脱这鼠疫之城。
然而，正是这位践行者，在鼠疫疯狂肆虐的日子里，是最无助，也最失败的一位。他和塔鲁一样，都是对抗鼠疫的战士。然而，他们都没能减轻任何人的痛苦，所有的抗争只是勇敢地面对病人在挣扎抽搐中痛苦死去。鼠疫并没有被人类战胜，但正如萨特所言，“这种构成人的超越性（不是如上帝是超越的那样理解，而是作为超越自己理解）和主观性(指人不是关闭在自身以内而是永远处在人的宇宙里)的关系——这就是我们叫做的存在主义的人道主义。”
对鼠疫的这场战斗，人可以最终赢得胜利吗？又可以赢得了什么？
厄里在反思中道出，“在鼠疫和生活两种赌博中，一个人能够赢得的，也就是认识和记忆”，同时补充说，“如果‘赢了’就意味着自己能了解和回忆一些事物，同时却被剥夺了自己愿意得到的东西，这样活着还有多苦！”
问题并不在于结局，存在着就是一种人道精神。它不指向原因，也不指向目的，它关切的不是存在的性质，而是存在物当下该如何存在而已。人们接连死去，我们能做什么？有人拥抱上帝，有人拥抱女人，有人拥抱了永无休止的失败。失败是必然的，抗争却似乎来得比结局重要。鼠疫是生活的荒谬本质，所有人禁闭于此，注定接受放逐与隔离。
这是一幅注定悲观的图景，也唯有通过此种景象，我们得以真正清醒地直视生活，并且坚定地在荒谬中抗争下去。“只要看见了鼠疫给人们带来的不幸和痛苦，只有疯子、瞎子或懦夫才会放弃斗争。”由此，我们可以说，《鼠疫》最终传达的不是一种悲观的消极情绪——人永远在形成中的，是在把自身投向未来的过程中与自己相遇，从来没有已完成的、理想的人。这种人道精神，不是纳粹主义的对理想人类的崇拜；恰相反，它督促人们放弃“终极问题”，放弃沉溺，而要直视现状，并在此处境下或勇敢、或被迫地做出抉择。
如果说存在主义对人的处境是绝望的，那只是对无可超脱的绝望，人的处境就是当下的一切，没有上帝，没有别的出路，没有别种办法。正正是这绝望的态度，坚定了个体的责任：知其不可为而为之的立场。“我们觉得真正的问题不在于上帝存在不存在；人类需要的是重新找到自己，并且理解到什么都不能使他挣脱他自己，连一条证明上帝确实存在的正确证据也救不了他”，萨特如是作结。
鼠疫是什么？
“在深层意义上，鼠疫本身就意味着流放和分离。”
鼠疫究竟是怎么回事？
“那就是生活，如此而已。”

　　《鼠疫》读后感(八)：作为人之宿命的抽象

        读完鼠疫。这本从大二就开始读却一直没有读完的书，终于是在学生生涯快要结束的这几天里读完了。
       鼠疫，正如加缪借那位被塔鲁称为圣人的老人所说，是生活本身。鼠疫发生于任何时代、任何国家、任何社会，从来不曾停止，也永远不会灭绝，人所能选择的，只是在鼠疫之下该如何生活。故事的结尾，加缪也告诉我们，摆脱鼠疫，不过也只是结束战争的失败，这个失败使和平本身成了永远治愈不了的伤痛。
        人的复杂，体现在人有着多重的身份，面对妻子的时候，是温柔的丈夫；面对母亲的时候，是疲惫的儿子；面对属下的时候，是严厉的领导；面对敌人的时候，是坚强的对手。怎么评价一个人？几乎没有办法。
       即便平凡如格朗、软弱如格朗、机械如格朗，在鼠疫面前，却也表现出令人惊讶的韧性与勇气。有人也许对格朗嗤之以鼻，以为他的勇敢不过是无知与缺乏才华的产物，他的兢兢业业、克尽职守不过是屈服于政治机器下的盲从。这种人，自视为高等，自视为明智，实则不值一提，他们因为太过聪明，反而看不清生活的朴素。
     《鼠疫》里出现的每一个主要角色，都不是坏人，都只是赤裸裸的、简简单单的人。人，实际上无所谓善，也所谓恶，先贤们争论的性善、性恶，不过是纠之太过。人出生于世间，有着生老病死，有着七情六欲，有着意志，有着自由，人的每一个举动，都是针对当下而发，于其主体本身，皆是合理的选择，然而这种合理，却要放到世人的生活来接受评判，而担任法官的，只是那抽象的法律、道德、圣人。这种评判，说到底只是为了维护社会的正常运转而不得不进行的，然而若将视野仅仅限于具体的某一个人，我们就只能承认，这些评判都荒谬彻底，乃如塔鲁所说，他们竟然会同意杀人。他人即地狱，意莫如此。里厄医生献身于抽象概念固然可敬，但他无法对朗贝尔欲图殉身于爱情加以反驳，朗贝尔反而会斥责里厄缺乏情感。然而朗贝尔最终也不得不投身于那抽象的人的概念，否则他的情感也将终生不安，这乃是生而为人的宿命。
      加缪所赞扬的反抗，仍是投身于抽象概念的绝望。里厄虽然声称自己对英雄主义和圣人之道都没有兴趣，感兴趣的仅仅只是怎么做人，但他所做的，远远不是一个纯粹的人所做的事情。什么是纯粹的人呢？就是那些在城门闭锁、绝望蔓延之际，冲击城门，放火焚烧、纵情声色的那一批人，在他们身上，最能体现出人本来的样子。里厄的反抗，反抗的是使自己避免成为那样的人，反抗的目的是拯救那样的人。他觉得他应该为所有的人说话，所以他的客观记录也需要做一些必要的保留，因为在绝望中支撑他做下去的信念乃是“人的内心里值得赞赏的东西总归比应该唾弃的东西多。”
      真正的解放乃是格朗，他终于删去了所有的形容词。
(里面有个关于局外人的彩蛋，杀死一个阿拉伯人，哈，可怜的默尔索）

　　《鼠疫》读后感(九)：《鼠疫》——荒谬下的人性光辉

这是一本来自诺贝尔奖评委会的获奖小说，而作者加缪则是一位现代哲学小说家。曾和萨特过从甚密。人道是"论哲学萨特等于一百个加缪，论写作加缪等于一百个萨特。"，加缪的小说即使撇开独树一帜的哲学性不论，本身也真的是极好的小说。《鼠疫》虽然使用一种极尽客观的语气描写了一场令人战栗的灾难，却让人捧起来就很难放下。我是在飞往德国的一个航班上打开的这本书，期间实在困倦睡了一会，除此之外几乎是一气呵成地阅读完成。
"书读百遍，其义自现"这句话我一直是觉得有点问题的。乍一看上去似乎很有道理，但是实在不太适合现代人的生活节奏。本身大多数人就已经习惯于碎片化的快速信息，让人沉静下来看一本书已经十分不易，更何况是一本书读百遍？这个笨功夫如果有人愿意花，我是拱手一拜，您的确可敬。如果想要提高读书的效率，还是要多多泛读。很多名人和知识分子都爱强调一件事，就是人一定要有一个自己头脑中的知识体系。一旦体系形成，就可以把新学会的知识分门别类地安排到这个体系当中。从此这一份知识就不再是一个孤独的点，而是和其他信息组成了网络，再想要调用的时候就会事半功倍。读这本书的时候我就对这后一种泛读理论有着深刻的体验。
如果单单看着一本书，我想自己应该是很难体会到加缪在书中所表达的挣扎情感的。正是在前一阵，一本哲学普及读物上我在整个西方哲学史的最后阶段看到了萨特的存在主义和由其触发的荒谬主义文学派别。这一派知识分子认为生命是如此荒谬，人生其实毫无意义，但是把它活出意义来就是人的意义所在。看上去非常的绕口，简单来说就是"生活虽然如此操蛋，人还是得好好活着。"凭借这个思想，其实人们可以解释很多东西，或者，从很多东西出发人们都可以得到这个结论。比如说，在进化心理学当中，人的行为之出于本能，多是基因所引导的自利。《自私的基因》更是铁口直断：人不过是基因用来永生的一个载体。既然如此，人们在世上蝇营狗苟或者悲天悯人又有什么意义呢？然而你却从来未曾听说过有人因为想明白了这个理论而自杀的，即使是作者道金斯也在成书后愉快地生活着。当时读书很少的我就被这个派系的理论所惊艳。加上再往前一阵，读过极为冷淡的《局外人》一书，获得过诺奖的《鼠疫》似乎是势在必读。这本书也的确，就是在试图表达加缪的这种思想，尽管他从未承认自己是其中一员。
里厄医生普遍被认为是加缪的自我塑造，他一方面想要用客观的眼光观察这个世界，一方面又很难对世界上受苦受难的人们视而不见。可是他的协助也仅仅是一种辅助的手段而已，有多少人能够意识到生活的操蛋呢？这谁也分辨不了，正如全靠某些人血液里神秘的元素来治愈鼠疫。这血液里的元素似乎有点像佛教所谓"慧根"，有慧根者在大师点拨下会大彻大悟，没有慧根的即使苦修也不知道效果如何。加缪就是这样一个大师，他希望人们都能够明白过来，但是真正能领悟的人也不过而而。里厄医生身边的朋友们就是这样一群人。
塔鲁有着无比的精神高洁，但是面对生活的悲情，他满腔的悲天悯人似乎又毫无意义，最后被生活所压垮，成为了一个莫名其妙的牺牲品。
朗贝尔则试图远离生活，他尝试了各种各样的方法来逃避，却最终发现生活的荒谬苦难无远弗届，人无从逃离。想通了一切的朗贝尔获得了巨大的成长，他成为了里厄的帮手。
传教士属于那种精神世界有余，接地气能力不足的鸡汤大师。什么人能够在鼠疫当中发现主的恩典？一切相信天主的公正这种话说起来容易，可是真当一个个无辜的生命被充满痛苦地夺走，真的有什么死后的天堂能够弥补死前的痛苦吗？信仰不是人用来逃避努力生活的借口，而是一个应当被用来作为调剂的影子。
格朗只是一个极为普通的人，他生活在这份重压下，我用"我干"来弥足自己的平庸。他不需要想通这一切是怎么回事，只需要用力地生活下去就好了。加缪给了格朗一个起死回生的好结局，似乎是在鼓励平凡的人们采取这样的生活哲学。
科塔尔则属于那种享受在生活的压力下的那种人。他似乎天生就是生活阴暗面的代言人，看着大家在悲惨的泥潭中挣扎反而激发了科塔尔无穷的创造力。以至于在发现生活的苦难即将过去的时候，他疯狂了，想要用自己的双手再增添一些苦难。但是他的下场一定不会好，最终饱尝老拳，含恨入狱。
所以说，加缪的荒谬主义的确是正能量的荒谬主义。这个哲学家兼职作者，聪明地通过描写荒谬来激发人们追求美好的欲望，真是何其匠心独运。
但是最后，加缪还是没有忘记提醒我们，鼠疫被击败不是因为人们采取了多么英明的措施，而完全是因为瘟神玩腻了。鼠疫的细菌就隐藏在沙发衣物下面，人们也许永远也没有办法把它完全消灭。当你一个不留神，它就会冲出来继续把一个幸福的城镇置于自己的恐怖统治之下。

　　《鼠疫》读后感(十)：一部超越时代的警示录

在浓郁的节日气氛中读完阿尔伯特.加缪的《鼠疫》似乎是一件很不合时宜的事情，然而在这个特别的特定的年月，却又显得如此恰如其分。这本书带来的震撼和思考是超越年代和历史的，在鼠疫横行时被隔离和禁闭的生活精神形态，道德伦理的详尽描述与深刻探讨，对特殊历史事件的记录和反思，对今天的生活，依然具有警示录的意义。人是不是一个概念？个人命运与集体遭遇，为理想而牺牲还是为爱情而献声？愚昧无知是最大的凶手。一种生活的热情，一种死亡的形象，这就叫知识。
就如最后一段所总结的：“里厄倾听着城中震天的欢呼声，心中却沉思着：威胁着欢乐的东西始终存在，因为这些兴高采烈的人群所看不到的东西，他却一目了然。他知道，人们能够在书中看到这些话：鼠疫杆菌永远不死不灭，它能沉睡在家具和衣服中历时几十年，它能在房间、地窖、皮箱、手帕和废纸堆中耐心地潜伏守候，也许有朝一日，人们又遭厄运，或是再来上一次教训，瘟神会再度发动它的鼠群，驱使它们选中某一座幸福的城市作为它们的葬身之地。”
而我们也愿意相信并希望“人的身上，值得赞赏的东西总是多于应该蔑视的东西。”