I recently picked up Albert Camus’s The Stranger (1942) at a book-fair whilst at Melbourne’s Federation Square. I had heard of the book before, and knew of its basic coverage and premises, but never read it. This time, though, I knew that I could not force myself to live in the terrible agony of having not read this seminal piece of literature.
“. . .gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars, for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe”
As with any piece of unknown information or theme, topic, or idea, one has immediate assumptions as to what the thing at hand actually comes to represent. For me, before I began reading, whilst I considered the thematic/ideological premise of the ‘outsider’, I rested upon the view of social exclusion or, rather, individual exclusion from a social context. This was my starting point, my a priori of understanding. I found soon after that this basic view I held or superficial skin over the problem was close to what the book seems to deal with. Of course, there’s much more to it than that.
Differences. They are a huge thing in the world, especially when you find a collision between what you can believe to see as right and wrong, or good or bad. Any contrast has its equal weight on the other end tugging against it, trying to challenge it. With Meursault, the protagonist of the book, I found this was most apparent in his daily experience. Here, I found a character who enjoyed a very simplistic and directed life, one free of any necessary extravagances or extraneous meddling/s. . . until a point. I found a trio of operation that seemed to me very natural for a person, and also supremely honest in how the character would be if he really existed.
- 1) The whole focus on internalised and private thinking; Meursault seems to do this primarily, rather than secondary. I found the monologue very fascinating and wholly natural to him as a being.
- 2) The endless ironic truth of his statements and thoughts. There is something very immediate and unrefined about how he sees things in a certain way, and how he thinks of these in such an innocent sort-of pure neutrality.
- 3) The sympathetic and honest interpersonal expressions. Nothing is hidden, everything said as it is thought and he is almost, to a certain degree, unjustly condemned of this unrestricted way of existing. Of course, it is a study in the Absurd, but it presents much larger branches.
Another focus I particularly enjoyed was the sense of snippets of details, of images in the present moment and those speckled like a dream of nostalgia where things became lost to time. I guess this is simply part of the daydreaming that occurs, the drifting away and the constant reminder that things are different from what they used to be. I see the novel as more of a beacon of Humanism, rather than of Nihilism, as there is always a sort of courageous yet similarly blighted positivity throughout the story.
If I have any personal caveats, I would simply say that the journey ended too soon; however, I’m sure the marks it has left on me will endure. Also, I would have liked a tiny bit more character development with regards to the other characters, especially Marie.
If anyone has also read the novel, and would like to leave their own thoughts, please do so. I am welcome to any and every considered thought that you may have.
Thanks! 🙂
Tom.
His Empty Space 