Having a drink with friends at the well known craft beer and beard pub in central Hackney on Friday evening I noticed that the (clean shaven) man at the next table was reading Sartre with his pint.
I can reveal that the book was Sartre’s first novel, Nausea, about a dejected historian who struggles to understand the impact of the world on his consciousness.
Perhaps he was pondering in this respect the impact of the beer on his thought processes.
Sartre (1915-1980) is known more as a smoke of pipes and cigarettes than as a drinker but I’m sure the occasional glass was imbibed
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