The Stranger

Many of the great works of fiction sit at the intersection of philosophy and literature. They ask questions that need to be asked, about the nature of life and the human condition, and run through moral rehearsals to try and find answers. One of the these perfect storms of ideas is Albert Camus’ The Stranger. In only 123 pages, Camus whittles away any of the pablum and platitudes found in long-winded works, and is left with the most refined form of fiction. When reading The Stranger, one feels, that the author is in complete control, and that his message is perfectly communicated without any traces of didactic condescension.

The plot of the book is quite simple. The protagonist, Meursault, is wholly indifferent to the events of his daily life. This is exemplified with the famous first lines of the book, “Aujourd’hui, Maman est morte. Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas.” This means, “Today mother died. Or maybe yesterday, I don’t know.” As our hero copes with, or rather rationalizes, this loss, we learn more about his lifestyle and his character. He lives in French Algiers at some point in the 1940s, works as a clerk, spends a lot of time at the beach, and cares deeply about none of it. The only emotion we see him indulge is lust, masquerading as his girlfriend Marie. He lives entirely in the moment, and never seems to see much value in his life or any of its elements. One searingly hot afternoon, this detachment leads Meursault to make a decision that few individuals could make. His actions eventually force him into an environment where all he can do is reflect on his life, the people he is surrounded with, and his ultimate fate, the same one that  none of us can escape. 

Meursault is the purest form of apathy, and his perspective provides a truly objective lens with which to view the ideas that Camus wrestled with throughout his entire career. The primary concept explored in the book is the Absurd, Camus’ most enduring addition to the field of existentialist philosophy. In this context, the Absurd is the disconnect between the unrealistic expectations that man harbors for the universe, expectations of meaning and objective truth, and the “benign indifference of the universe.” In spite of Camus’ rejection of the label, the idea falls perfectly into place in the spectrum of philosophies churned out by the French philosophical community in the middle of the last century. 

Throughout his life, Camus kept such company as Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre, Pascal Pia and Jean Grenier. Together, they honed the ideas of existentialism, originally put forth by the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche and Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, into a body of work that revolutionized the way that man interacts with the universe. Their view was that any consideration of philosophy had to start with the consideration of man, and that all philosophy was subjective, as it must be created by man. Their focus on these ideas was likely a result of the horrors of the second World War, which sat heavily on so many minds at that time. After years of wanton global violence and chaos, the imperfection of mankind was unavoidable, and the ramifications of that idea are profoundly present in much of Camus’ work. 

Stylistically, the book adheres to the same minimalism Camus utilized when creating the plot. The sentences are of a nearly uniform length. The style is languid and unenthused for the majority of the book, mirroring Meursault’s utter apathy. Only when his emotions rise, at the climax of the book, does the style change to accommodate his mentality. While this simplicity can lull the reader into a sort of monotony, it is an intentional monotony. With this uniformity of style, Camus induces in the reader a much-diluted form of the same indifference that plagues his protagonist, so thoroughly that one accepts, even agrees with the distant, possibly sociopathic perspective espoused. 

The Stranger sits firmly outside most readers’ comfort zones, yet 70 years after its publication, the book continues to draw an appreciative audience. Why? Because in addition to answering several fundamental questions of existence, The Stranger is a great book. It is consistently engaging, as well as humorous and even poignant, in its own twisted way. It is enough of a philosophical revelation and easy enough to comprehend to have amateurs and academics reassessing their thoughts on life. It is entirely unique, unparalleled before and since its publication. Despite all its gloomy morbidity, it even ends on a sort of pervertedly optimistic note. For all these reasons, I would suggest The Stranger to anyone who has ever asked themselves why they are here. I would also suggest it to anyone who has not yet asked themselves that, because questioning the human condition is an integral part of the human existence. 

The Stranger

Albert Camus, translated by Matthew Ward

First published in 1942

123 pages

Philosophical Fiction

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