Albert Camus, the philosopher who always had a cigarette in his mouth (at least from many photographs found on google), published "The Stranger" in 1942. While a slim novel, its impact is anything but. To make a review of this book is a ridiculous attempt. Why bother finding meaning in such novella? Is it worth the trouble?
But let's grab a glass of black coffee (or absinthe, if you're feeling particularly existential) and let's meet Monsieur Meursault, our protagonist.
Meursault is a curious creature. He's not a sociopath, nor is he a villain in the traditional sense. He's simply... indifferent. Like a well-worn armchair, he observes the world with a detachment that borders on the absurd.
His mom's death doesn't seem to bother him at all, his girlfriend's affections a mere pleasant distraction. Even murder, a horrific act by any standard, is accepted without emotion.
"Maman died today. Or maybe yesterday; I can’t be sure"
This opening line sets the tone for Meursault's emotional flatline, a stark contrast to the societal norms of grief and remorse. But, as Camus astutely observes, "Meursault doesn't play the game." He refuses to conform to the expectations of a society that demands emotional displays he simply doesn't feel.
His indifference, however, is not without consequence. It makes him a loner, causes miscommunications, and in the end, brings him down. Meursault's actions, or lack thereof, act as a catalyst, revealing the hypocrisy and absurdity of the society he inhabits.
"The Stranger" is a masterclass in symbolism, with each element meticulously chosen to enhance the novel's existential themes. The Algerian sun, relentless and oppressive, mirrors the indifferent forces of nature that govern lives. It's a constant reminder of our insignificance in the grand scheme of things.
The beach, a place of leisure and escape for most, becomes a stage for Meursault's most defining act: the murder of an Arab man.
The sun's glare distorts his perception, blurring the lines between reality and delusion. That action makes no sense at all and doesn't have any logical reason behind it. The situation is a perfect example of the absurd. It's like this constant battle between our desire to make sense of things and the universe just not giving a damn.
Yet, the absurdity of the narrative is exactly what makes it compelling. The text makes us think about the idea that life might not have any real meaning. It's like a big cosmic joke without a punchline.
Camus uses symbols in his work that go beyond just the natural world. For example, the sea, which is big and always moving, stands for freedom and getting away from it all. This is very different from the stifling, closed-in spaces of society. The smoky haze in the cafés where Meursault hangs out is like a veil that hides the truth, just like Meursault's own point of view, which is very detached.
Even Meursault himself becomes a symbol, an embodiment of the existential hero. He's not a role model, nor is he particularly likable. Yet, there's a raw authenticity to his existence, a refusal to conform that resonates with our own latent desire for freedom.
Meursault's indifference is like a match, and his trial is like a powder keg. It's a total freak show, a circus that society puts on. The trial’s focus shifts from the act of murder to Meursault's lack of emotional display. The prosecutor paints him not as a killer, but as a heartless monster who didn’t cry even when his mother died.
Yet, in Meursault's eyes, the trial is just another meaningless charade. He sees the lawyers, the jury, the judge, all performing their roles in a grand cosmic play. Their attempts to impose meaning and order on the chaos of existence are, to him, futile.
In simple terms, Meursault's lack of emotion is seen as cold-hearted, his honesty as arrogance. The court sees him as a threat to the social order, an outsider who refuses to play by the rules. His conviction is less a judgment of his guilt and more a condemnation of his nonconformity.
In the final pages of the novel, facing execution, Meursault experiences a profound shift. He rejects the chaplain's attempts to impose meaning on his life and embraces the absurdity of his existence.
"I had been right, I was still right, I was always right," he declares, affirming his own truth in the face of death. He finds solace in the "gentle indifference of the world," accepting the meaninglessness of life with a newfound sense of liberation.
"The Stranger" is not an easy read. It's a challenging, unsettling, and ultimately, transformative experience. It opened questions about our assumptions of life, meaning, and the pursuit of happiness. It challenges us to embrace the absurd, to find freedom in our own indifference, and to live authentically in a world that often demands conformity.
This book might not be a real page-turner, but it makes us think about what it all means in a world that can sometimes feel pretty pointless. It's a reminder that life is short, unpredictable, and ultimately, absurd. But hey, that doesn't mean we can't enjoy the ride, right?
