Albert Camus: A Bit Overrated, Don’t You Think?

I get it. Camus is cool. He’s got that existential swag, the cigarette, the deep thoughts, the French-Algerian mystique.

Every college kid with a black turtleneck has whispered The Stranger to themselves at 3 AM, feeling like they unlocked the universe.

But let’s be real—he’s a bit overrated.

Don’t throw your Myth of Sisyphus at me just yet. I like the guy.

But let’s take a step back and poke some holes in the Camus cult.

Here’s why he’s not as untouchable as some people think.

1. The Philosophy Ain’t That Deep

Camus builds this whole grand castle called Absurdism, but inside?

It’s just a single wooden chair and a bare lightbulb. His whole thing is: Life is meaningless, but instead of crying about it, we should embrace the meaninglessness and live anyway.

That’s it. That’s the revelation. It’s like when your friend takes three hours to tell you a story and it all boils down to “Well, I guess that’s life, huh?”

Sartre was doing philosophical gymnastics, Nietzsche was setting fire to the whole system, and Camus was just sitting there with a smirk, saying, “Hey man, roll with it.”

2. The Stranger—Cool, But Not THAT Cool

Oh wow, Meursault didn’t cry at his mother’s funeral. What a rebel.

Then he shoots a guy on the beach because of—wait for it—the sunlight.

The heat, the glare, the sweat, the whole overwhelming existence of it all.

It’s good. It’s interesting. But if Camus wasn’t French, if his name was Brad Thompson from Nebraska, nobody would care.

The book is written so dry it could turn wine back into grapes. It reads like a police report written by a guy who just woke up from a nap.

And people eat it up like it’s the holy grail of literature.

3. Camus Wasn’t Really an Existentialist (But People Keep Calling Him One)

He kept saying he wasn’t one. He and Sartre even had beef over it.

But people still shove him into the existentialist category like he’s some kind of French Nietzsche Lite.

It’s like calling a guy who eats a salad once a vegetarian. He flirted with the ideas, sure. He dipped his toes in. But he wasn’t swimming in the same pool as the existentialists.

He was like the guy at the bar who listens to your existential crisis, nods, takes a drag of his cigarette, and says, “Yeah, life’s weird, huh?”

That’s not deep. That’s just Tuesday night.

4. The Myth of Sisyphus—A Fancy Way to Say “Keep Going”

Camus takes a Greek myth, stretches it out for an entire essay, and the grand conclusion? “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

You can practically hear the philosophy students gasping.

But let’s break this down. A guy is cursed to roll a boulder up a hill forever. And Camus’ advice? “Eh, might as well enjoy it.”

This is the same logic as your boss telling you to “find joy in the grind.” It’s like motivational bullshit wrapped in intellectual packaging.

5. He Makes Depression Sound Romantic

If you’ve ever met a freshman philosophy major who just discovered Camus, you know what I mean.

They start staring out windows. They start saying things like, “Nothing really matters, but in a beautiful way.” They start thinking that being emotionally numb is deep.

But Camus wasn’t writing self-help books for tortured souls. Meursault wasn’t a cool, detached antihero.

He was a dead man walking, a guy who didn’t fight, didn’t struggle, didn’t give a damn. His indifference wasn’t wisdom. It was a slow-motion car crash.

6. His Characters Are Boring As Hell

Take Meursault. Take Dr. Rieux from The Plague. These guys are barely people.

They just float through the story, letting things happen to them. You could replace them with a houseplant and get roughly the same emotional range.

Some say that’s the point—life is indifferent, existence is absurd. Sure. But if I wanted to watch someone blankly stare into space, I’d go to the DMV.

7. His Writing Style? Plain Toast.

Short sentences. No frills. No poetry. No fire. Hemingway made that work because he packed emotion between the lines.

Bukowski made it work because he gave it guts and filth and raw humanity. Camus just leaves you with… sentences.

It’s like a bowl of plain oatmeal. It’s fine. It’ll sustain you. But it’s not exactly thrilling.

8. The “Absurd Hero” Thing? A Little Overplayed.

Camus loved this idea that true rebellion is embracing the absurd, smiling in the face of meaninglessness. Sounds great, right?

But look at his so-called “heroes.” They don’t do much. They just sort of… exist.

They don’t rage against the machine. They don’t burn it down. They just shrug and say, “Welp.” That’s not heroic. That’s just settling.

9. People Who Love Camus Are Annoying

Not his fault, but let’s be honest. Camus fans are the guys at parties who corner you for an hour, swirling their wine, explaining how “life is just a series of moments, man.”

They read The Stranger once and suddenly think they’re Jean-Paul Sartre’s ghostwriter.

You know who doesn’t talk about Camus all the time? Interesting people.

10. He’s Stuck in That “Smart But Not Too Smart” Zone

Camus is like Radiohead. Intellectual enough that people feel cool for liking him, but not so dense that he’s hard to understand. He’s the perfect starter philosopher.

Deep enough for people to say, “Wow, that’s profound,” but simple enough that you don’t actually have to struggle with it.

And that’s why he’s overrated. Because being just smart enough is the best way to get famous.

Quick Recap

Point	Why It’s a Problem
1. Philosophy Ain’t That Deep	“Shit happens, deal with it.”
2. The Stranger Is Overhyped	Reads like a police report.
3. Not an Existentialist	But everyone calls him one.
4. Sisyphus Is a Long-Winded Motivational Poster	“Just keep rolling, dude.”
5. Makes Depression Sound Cool	Being numb isn’t deep.
6. Boring Characters	Paper-thin personalities.
7. Dry Writing Style	Where’s the fire?
8. Absurd Hero = Passive Nihilism	Acceptance isn’t rebellion.
9. Annoying Fans	We all know that guy.
10. Smart, But Not Too Smart	Digestible, not mind-blowing.

Look, I’m not saying Camus is bad. He’s good. He’s fine. He’s a necessary stepping stone into philosophy, a little baby existentialist starter pack. But people treat him like some untouchable genius.

He’s not. He’s a guy who said life is meaningless, and we should just keep moving.

You know who else said that? My drunk uncle last Thanksgiving. And he didn’t need The Myth of Sisyphus to do it.