On the cover of the new edition of Camus’s The Stranger, published in 2021 by LEDA publishing, it is stated that this novel soon became synonymous with existentialism after its first publication. To the author’s displeasure. I don’t know why Camus disliked it, but it’s true that when you say The Stranger, the association with existentialism immediately comes to mind.
Indifference or hopelessness?
Or both?
While reading, from the very beginning, words like “indifference” or “hopelessness” kept popping into my head. Especially when describing the main character’s inner feelings and motives in connection with his mother’s death and funeral.
Perhaps “indifference” is not the right word, but there is something strange about the whole thing. It is about the “detachment” in observing the events in Meursault’s life, and not only in relation to his mother’s death. Things just happen. Nothing more.
Overall, it is interesting to observe Meursault’s functioning in society, which is depicted through the immediacy of his feelings. It would seem that the events happening around him are indifferent to him.
However, this is probably not the case. At several points, it is possible to observe the main character’s emotion, either with regard to what he said, or with regard to the reaction of the person with whom he came into contact (“I answered: ‘No.’ He was startled and I was ashamed, because I felt that I shouldn’t have said that.”).
It’s all the same
Meursault’s non-involvement in what is happening around him is especially evident when it comes to his interaction with other people. It’s as if it’s not even worth his while to make anything up, regardless of the fact that it’s probably clear to him that what he’s saying won’t be received by the other party without a raised eyebrow.
The extreme example of this is Meursault’s trial, where it is simply easiest for him to tell the truth regardless of what it will mean for him. At a certain point, Meursault even declares that he murdered the Arab because of the sun, which is probably the closest to his real motive (if one exists at all), but in the context of everything that was said during the trial, such a statement seems implausible, unbelievable and funny. So much so that good people laugh at him.
Meursault’s conviction that nothing really matters is also evident from the following description: “[…] after a while she then asked me if I loved her. I replied that it didn’t matter, but that I probably didn’t.” The phrase that it’s all the same runs through the entire work. (“[…] she asked me if I wanted to marry her. I said it was all the same to me.” or “You’re young and I think you’d like that kind of life. I said yes, but that it was basically all the same to me.”) What does the obvious absurdity of everything and the knowledge that it’s all the same lead to? Probably to living in the moment. Here and now. And that is exactly what Meursault does.
The trial and justice
A significant part of the book is a description of the trial and the machinery of justice, which is in charge of finding justice. Following Meursault’s act, the primary effort of justice is to understand why he did what he did. To find a reason. A motive. But what happens where there is no such thing? As individuals and as a society, we attach great importance to causes and effects. So much so that we look for them even where they are not.
The reader has the luxury of looking into Meursault’s head and thoughts from the position of an independent observer. He therefore knows that there is really no motive reflected in his act. Perhaps really only the sun.
But such a conclusion is unacceptable to society. The wheels of justice therefore turn until all the data is processed into a clear whole. The murderer and generally human monster Meursault had it all figured out. It fits perfectly into his psychological profile. After all, he did not mourn enough at his mother’s funeral. Meursault is a murderer. However, he was judged in part, and quite possibly mainly, for what was not really related to the murder. But only and because of the murder. Here we have the cause and effect. The reader knows that it has nothing to do with it and the whole thing is so absurd. But in the real world, we are not in the position of a transdimensional being with access to the minds of other people. We do not have the luxury of seeing into the heads of others. The means of finding cause and effect described in the book are thus our only tools for organizing all the chaos around us.
A strange feeling that I am an extra here
The absurdity during the trial is perfected at the moment when it is clear to the reader that Meursault is being decided about without Meursault. “[…] it looked a bit as if the matter had nothing to do with me […] Everything is happening without my participation.” Not that he would be denied the right to stand before the court, or the right to a defense or other procedural right. On the contrary, the decision about Meursault without Meursault is the product of the proper application of all rights. Absurd. How else.
Don’t get me wrong. Meursault was undoubtedly a strange fellow. Quite possibly also a bit of a sociopath (or he just had the bad luck of having such a nature that his physical needs often adversely affected his feelings). But it probably doesn’t hurt from time to time, when we are overwhelmed by all the ballast of everyday life, to take a deep breath and remind ourselves that it’s all a bit the same.
