I think - and I'm struggling to remember back quite a ways here - that it's more of a metaphor for life under fascism, rather than fascism itself, if that makes more sense.

I haven't read that one, just The Stranger

I re-read it a few years back, and yeah, I'm not sure that it's a metaphor for life under fascism specifically so much as a metaphor for life under any sort of totalitarian regime. It's not like those who die from the plague are spewing pro-fascist rhetoric or that only the wholly deserving or undeserving catch it. The quarantine of the city seems to be more the central metaphor. I seem to recall that the only moment of peace the protagonist experiences is when he sneaks out of the city for a swim in a nearby ocean or lake.

I'm not sure that it's a metaphor for life under fascism specifically so much as a metaphor for life under any sort of totalitarian regime.

Huh. I'm not clear on the distinction you're making here. More, please?

The quarantine of the city seems to be more the central metaphor.

I think the isolation is a central part of what he's getting at though, where connections between normal people are suddenly fraught with uncertainty and fear, and outside elements virtually irrelevant except insofar as they try/fail to help.

It's not like those who die from the plague are spewing pro-fascist rhetoric or that only the wholly deserving or undeserving catch it.

Again, I don't see that as detracting from the metaphor.

What I do think detracts from it is that by using a biological agent as a stand-in for (pick a regime, any regime) the element of human choice and malice is sort of elided away, suggesting that totalitarianism itself is some sort of force of nature, not a human construct.

Right. Saying plague = fascism makes fascism sound like "just one of those unlucky things" that sometimes happens and nobody is implicated in it. Which is crap.

I can sort of see the quarantined city = life in a totalitarian state, except that the quarantine was such a minor part of the novel, for me. Like, it was a psychological blow, for all the people who couldn't leave; but mostly it was just a thing that you do when you've got plague in your city, another detail to chafe at. People weren't restricted from going to churches -- there were standing room only crowds! -- and bootlegging and smooching and smuggling all continued as always.

And anyway, the point of the novel, for me, was that the plague would run its course, and some would die and some wouldn't, and all that could be done was pitch in an ease the suffering of the ill and the frightened. Dilletante Volunteer Boy's death isn't a tragedy or a wild statement against fascism or plague or anything -- it's just a death, and the virtuous as much as the shitty are cut down. And after all, the only thing the doctor could offer was comfort, in his doctoring people, and memory, in his recording what he witnessed.

Nunberg's article brought up a Camus quote (didn't say where it's from) to the effect that Robespierre-style "terror" was in love with the absolute, and thus akin to fascism, which I think is true, but I can't for the life of me relate that to The Plague.

I'm not disagreeing with you, Brenda. I'm supporting your point in part and saying that it's not necessarily a metaphor for fascism (a point you appear to agree with), but for any form of totalitarian government. And that the plague itself is not as important as the way which it affects the city. But, if I recall correctly, the official malice in the book isn't created by the plague, but by the isolation. The city officials who round up the sick aren't afflicted, but taking advantage of affliction. Which works on a broad level (i.e. ethically and morally corrupt people will take power in situations where they can), but not on a specific level of having any sort of one-to-one comparison to situations in Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy, or Stalinist Russia.

Or French-occupied Algeria.

There is that.

I'm reading The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay and I'm to the part where Thomas' ship was torpedoed. t sob

I know...that's horrible, GC. One thing I admire about that book is its ability to carry so many moods and do them all believably, if that makes any kind of sense.