The Outsider/The Stranger by Albert Camus - Book Review

I'll be frank. It is not a happy story.

But if I am taking the time to post a review on it, you can be sure I think very highly of this book.
And no, I don't like sad stories that make me cry. But I think this book deserves a read because it is thought-provoking long after I have finished the book.

Of course, I had to read it as it is one of the prescribed works for my IB English Literature class.

To start off, the thin volume is authored by Albert Camus, an Algerian writer and a Nobel Prize winner for Literature. His books are originally in French. My copy of The Outsider was translated by a Joseph Lorendo. Here one must take a moment to ponder: is the reaction toward the story due to the words and sentence structures that elicit the feelings from the readers, or is it due to the plot and the characters in general? Does the content actually matter more than the way and medium in which it is presented?

I say both.
Granted, Camus is still the author of the novel, he did not pass the plot idea to Lorendo and make him write it. However, Lorendo must have, during the process of translation, infuse some of his ideas and writing techniques into it. But then when the effect it created is so positively profound in the reader, is there any need to debate on who owns the effect? No.

Anyway the novel starts off deceivingly boring enough. We are introduced to the protagonist in a most unsightly manner: the death of his mother. But this is essential, for we are quickly shown the indifference-to-the-world side of Meursault. The opening line "Mother has died today. Or yesterday. I do not know" will have at once capture the reader's attention and, at the very least, gotten their confusion or mild surprise. His mother has died. Does he not care enough to know when?

The plot continues on in a monotonous fashion: he goes to his mother's funeral without crying even once, returns home feeling not grief but annoyance, passes his weekends with Marie and by himself. We are also introduced to his workplace, his neighbours and their lives, all through the protagonist's close, and perhaps cold, observation. At this point, we can see that Meursault is not retarded; in fact he is intelligent and precise in all his detailed observations. However, I must say I felt a bit creeped out by him initially because he seem to lack feelings. He could probably tell you what the clouds look like yesterday morning, but he will not be able to answer how he feels about his mother's death. Yes, it is indeed unfortunate, he will say. But it is only natural for her to die, so why should I cry?

The plot runs on where his neighbour Raymond asked him to write a letter to his mistress to make her feel bad, and even asked him about his opinion on his plan to abuse her. Afterwards when the Arab brother of Raymond's mistress and his friends followed Raymond, Meursault and the others to where they were holidaying, Meursault shot the mistress' brother with Raymond's gun, partly because he was too hot and was trying to get out of the sun, and partly because the Arab drew his knife when Meursault stepped forward. Meursault was then brought in by the police and questioned, but he was unable to explain what motives he had for killing; he didn't have any at all. The police deemed him to be cold-blooded and dangerous, and as he didn't want to cooperate with either the magistrate or the lawyer, he was sent to prison for some months before his trial.

This was probably the climax of the story, but I would think that there are two climaxes in the story, and this is the first one. Meursault kept rationalising his actions with "it was only natural" or "naturally", and he could not understand at all why other people should feel the way he didn't. He was truthful when he answered the magistrate and the lawyer, but they were either irritated or worried. Hence he is deemed a dangerous psychopath and put into prison to await his trial.

In the end, Meursault did not repent, but developed a kind of enlightenment in prison, after his trial (which focuses mostly on how he did not show any feelings at his mother's death instead of the murder). The chaplain visited him even though he did not want to see him, and the chaplain's patronising attitude made him fly into a rage and poured out his feelings. Here, the second climax is seen; the change in Meursault is drastic. We get to see his real thoughts at last when there is nothing else around him to distract him from. He finally looks inside and observe himself instead of his surroundings. And finally, he is released from his fear of the death that will be upon him.

The story is sad, with a lingering cliffhanger at the ending. We do not witness his execution, but we stopped following him during his last few moments on earth, in this society that does not understand him. Is he a culprit or a victim of himself? Camus' afterword (which was the preface in the original French version), referred to Meursault as the man who does not play the game because he does not lie, and he prefers to be truthful about himself and his feelings. Hence he is viewed as a dangerous outsider, someone who does not conform to the society just because he refuses to say more than what he feels. He is executed primarily because he does not show feelings at his mother's funeral.

There is a monotonous, indifferent and somehow logical tone in the book, with a passionate end. The shift is apparent, emphasising the change in Meursault, yet he does not change, but merely stressing his logic. Was it an enjoyable read? Well I couldn't say for sure, but it sure is thought-provoking. Are we all not normal in a logical way? And yet, emotion is the very thing that bonds humans together and bring about evolution from a prehistoric caveman to a modern man with values.

In any case, the book is interesting and deceptively simple, but in the few pages lies a very important message of existentialism and absurdism. This is very possibly not the whole truth, but it is not, too, unworthy of attention and thought. Love The Outsider, which resonates with me long after I'm done. The only novel worth my time so far in IB English Lit. And I shall end with a quote from Camus in the book:

Lying is not only saying what isn't true. It is also, in fact especially, saying more than is true and, in the case of the human heart, saying more than one feels. -Albert Camus