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The Verdict on Albert Camus's The Fall As if to mock the crumbling principles of a fallen age, "The Only Judges" preside over a solemn dumping ground of earthly hell. This flimsy legion of justice, such as the omnipresent eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg in F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, casts a shadow of pseudo-morality above a land spiraling towards pathos. However, Albert Camus's The Fall unfolds amidst the seedy Amsterdam underground - a larger, more sinister prison than the Valley of Ashes, whose centre is Mexico City, a neighborhood pub and Mecca for the world's refuse. Even the narrator and self-proclaimed judge-penitent, Jean-Baptiste Clamence, presides over his topics nightly to "offer his services," although partially dissembled and highly suspect, to any who will listen. More artfully than a black widow preying on her miniature mate, he pushes us into his confessional monologue, weaving a net so intricate and complete that nobody can escape its clutches. Clamence points out that "Holland is a dreamof gold and smoke" whose residents are "somnambulists in the fog's gilded incense" who " have ceased to be" (13-14). Peopled by the living dead, where "hundreds of millions of menpainfully slip from bed, a bitter taste in their mouths, to go to a joyless function," "Amsterdam's concentric canals resemble the circles of hell," as in Dante's Inferno (144, 14). Holland's lost spirits will be the forsaken ones, machines who move through the motions of life but not really live, the contemporary guys, who fornicate and read the papers, with great intentions and bourgeois fantasies never attained. These are the guys capable of tolerating the "Liebestod" and the Holocaust at precisely the exact same breath, who wait for something to happen, "even loveless sla...