"The Stranger" by Albert Camus is a work that leaves you with an unclear sense of anxiety and spiritual emptiness, yet simultaneously with undeniable admiration for the author's mastery. This short but powerful novel undoubtedly deserves a full 5 stars for its profound impact and ability to provoke numerous reflections.
The Protagonist: Meursault
The protagonist, Meursault, is introduced as an emotionally cold and distant individual from the very first sentence of the novel, where he announces his mother's death with striking indifference:
"Mother died today. Or, maybe, yesterday; I can't be sure. "
This indifference, which persists throughout the novel, is what makes you feel disturbed. Why so detached from his emotions and the life around him? Is Meursault's indifference a pure expression of life's absurdity, as described in Camus's philosophy? Or is there something deeper in this attitude?
As someone who recently lost my grandmother, who was actually my mother because she raised me instead of my parents, I initially felt an internal rejection of Meursault's attitude. I cared for my paralyzed grandmother for 10 years, playing the role of caretaker, nurse, and psychologist. Unlike Meursault, I couldn't imagine sending her to a nursing home. However, despite this strong contrast with my personal experience, Camus manages to make us explore, if not fully understand and accept, Meursault's inner world.
I can't help but reflect on how small events and momentary decisions can dramatically change the course of our lives. Like Meursault, I too have had moments when I nearly "burned" my life through illogical choices. This makes me think that perhaps we all have a "Meursault" within us, a part that might react incomprehensibly to life's absurdity.
Plot Summary (Spoiler Alert)
After his mother's death, Meursault continues his daily life with the same indifference. He forms a relationship with Marie while becoming involved in a violent conflict between his friend Raymond and an Arab. On a hot beach day, he finds himself facing this person, with a gun in his belt. These moments are described like frames of a film:
"“Then everything began to reel before my eyes, a fiery gust came from the sea, while the sky cracked in two, from end to end, and a great sheet of flame poured down through the rift. Every nerve in my body was a steel spring, and my grip closed on the revolver.”
Meursault shoots the Arab and instantly realizes he had disturbed the day's balance, the extraordinary quietness of the beach where he had been happy. Then he fired four more times at the lifeless body.
"It was like giving four sharp knocks at the door of unhappiness."
The second part of the book focuses on the investigation, trial, death sentence, and approaching execution. But that awareness of the four knocks of misfortune is the only moment in life when Meursault seems to be conscious of his actions. His inability to defend himself before the prosecutor, to maintain dignified behavior before the court, even to face death with participation, makes "The Stranger's" protagonist a symbol of a lost man. A person living in complete emotional absence, who doesn't even try to give meaning to existence, and experiences it as a kind of punishment with an absurd sequence of unmotivated events.
Meursault is neither foolish nor ignorant. He is detached, separated from reality. He doesn't even use the most basic means to ease his responsibilities. When the judge asks if he felt pain over his mother's death, he replies that he has lost the habit of asking himself; and adds that all normal people have, sooner or later, desired the death of those they love. When asked if he had suppressed his feelings, he answers no, it wouldn't be right to say that because it wasn't true.
Prison ends up becoming his home, and in the end, Meursault doesn't feel too bad there. In court, he is passive but not absent: "Even from the defendant's bench, it's interesting to hear people talk about yourself," he thinks. Fate is sealed, and his absurd detachment becomes even more pronounced.
Structure and Style of the Novel
Another important aspect of "The Stranger" is how Camus structures the novel and changes his narrative style between the two main parts of the book.
In the first part of the novel, Camus introduces us to Meursault's world through the protagonist's own eyes. The writing style is simple, direct, and often brief, as illustrated by the famous opening line: "Mother died today." This dry and short style reflects Meursault's perception of the world - immediate, unanalyzed, and without apparent emotion. The short and simple sentences reflect how Meursault experiences and records events around him, without trying to interpret them or give them deeper meaning.
However, in the second part of the book, when Meursault finds himself before the court, Camus's style changes noticeably. The narrative becomes more elaborate and structured. This change in style reflects the shift in perspective - now we see Meursault and his actions judged by society, by humanity's "common sense."
This deliberate contrast in style is a powerful narrative tool that Camus uses to emphasize the gap between Meursault's perception of the world and how the world perceives him. In the first part, we see the world through the eyes of "the stranger," the innocent, where every event is simply an unanalyzed fact. In the second part, we see how these simple events take on complex meanings and interpretations when viewed from society's perspective.
This change in style isn't just an aesthetic choice but an essential element of Camus's philosophical message. It shows us how the same reality can be perceived and interpreted in completely different ways, highlighting the relativity of truth and the absurdity of our attempts to find absolute meaning in a fundamentally meaningless world.
The Murder Motive: A Personal Interpretation
Among the most enigmatic elements of the novel is Meursault's murder of the Arab. Camus describes this scene in minute detail:
“The heat was beginning to scorch my cheeks; beads of sweat were gathering in my eyebrows. [...] all the veins seemed to be bursting through the skin. I couldn't stand it any longer, and took another step forward. I knew it was a fool thing to do; I wouldn't get out of the sun by moving on a yard or so. But I took that step, just one step, forward. And then the Arab drew his knife and held it up toward me, athwart the sunlight.A shaft of light shot upward from the steel, and I felt as if a long, thin blade transfixed my forehead. At the same moment all the sweat that had accumulated in my eyebrows splashed down on my eyelids, covering them with a warm film of moisture. Beneath a veil of brine and tears my eyes were blinded; I was conscious only of the cymbals of the sun clashing on my skull, and, less distinctly, of the keen blade of light flashing up from the knife, scarring my eyelashes, and gouging into my eyeballs.Then everything began to reel before my eyes, a fiery gust came from the sea, while the sky cracked in two, from end to end, and a great sheet of “flame poured down through the rift. Every nerve in my body was a steel spring, and my grip closed on the revolver...”
This detailed description offers us an opportunity for a deeper interpretation of Meursault's motives, instead of traditional interpretations that see this act as a metaphor for society's conformity. The Arab's knife, described as "long and shining" and later as a "blade," appears as an unbearable threat to Meursault. Under the blinding sunlight, everything appears stripped, with no shadows where nuances might hide. If you notice, more than at the Arab, Meursault shoots at the sun.
When Meursault says he killed the Arab "because of the sun," he is actually articulating a deeper truth than the court or society can understand. The sun, in this context, represents not only physical heat but also the merciless illumination of reality, revealing every detail and leaving no room for illusions or evasions. This metaphorical "sun" has followed Meursault throughout the book - at his mother's funeral, in his relationship with Marie, and now culminates in this fatal moment.
The fact that Meursault shoots five times - once initially and then four more times - can be interpreted as a desperate attempt to "kill" not just the Arab, but the very reality surrounding him, the reality he perceives as threatening and unbearable. Each bullet can be seen as an attempt to destroy a different aspect of the world he cannot understand or accept.
This interpretation helps us better understand Meursault's "strangeness." He reacts to the world like someone living on another planet, a desert where he is an alien, a stranger. The murder becomes an unexpected revolt against this foreign and threatening reality, a sudden outbreak of an internal tension that has always been present but hidden beneath the surface of his indifference. A desperate attempt to change his state of "strangeness" with the world. However, the tragic irony is that this act only emphasizes his alienation more, making him even stranger in the eyes of society and the legal system.
Confronting Absurdity
But what drives Meursault toward this attitude? Camus doesn't give us much information about his past, except for a small detail about his father being traumatized after witnessing an execution. We lack the key to understanding Meursault's psychological formation. We don't know if his indifference is a defense mechanism against his personal pain and traumas. Perhaps Camus deliberately excluded a detailed history to make us focus on the absurdity of his behavior itself, rather than explanations for it.
From a psychological perspective, it could be interpreted that Meursault's behavior is an expression of a personality disorder, perhaps schizoid, or as an extreme manifestation of existentialist philosophy. However, Camus shows us moments when Meursault displays human fragility: the desire to hug a man who testified in his favor, his moments of hope to escape punishment, or even the need to cry when in prison. These moments remind us that even in the deepest indifference, humanity still finds ways to express itself. Despite his external coldness, Meursault remains a human who silently bears the burden of existence.
The philosophy of the absurd, which is central to Camus's work, appears powerfully in "The Stranger." It suggests that the universe is indifferent to human fate and that our attempts to find meaning are futile. However, Camus doesn't want to leave us in complete pessimism. Instead, he suggests that only by accepting life's absurdity can we achieve a kind of freedom.
Meursault, in the end, manages to accept this merciless truth, and perhaps for this reason, he faces his fate with deep serenity.
"The Stranger" remains a work that challenges readers to confront fundamental questions of existence. It makes us ask ourselves: How free are we really in our decisions? How much are we influenced by forces we don't fully understand?
This book doesn't leave you at peace, but it makes you a better reader, more attentive to life's nuances and more ready to face the difficult questions it poses. After all, we are all a bit strange in a world that often seems absurd and incomprehensible.
