The Daily Bee

The Stranger

September 5th, 2008

By Michelle

When I first started reading this book, I thought it was poorly translated. The story itself seemed to be very interesting, wherever it was going, but the translation didn’t seem to complement it so well. However, as I continued, I realized that the reason I couldn’t put it down was not entirely because of the story – as in most cases, it’s usually the style of writing. There have been quite a few times when I simply haven’t been able to close the book until it was over, and not because the story was so incredibly invigorating and intriguing. It was usually the style of writing. It wasn’t poetic and intricate and beautiful, but it fit. This is a story about a man who is indifferent to almost everything, and having a style of writing that illustrates that indifference could not have been pulled off any better.

I must have gotten really into this book at some point, because while the main character Meursault was on trial, I found my internal monologue practically shouting for him to lie, to say certain things that would at least prevent the death penalty. Say that you didn’t have an indifference to your mother’s death; say instead that she wanted you to go out and have fun and improve your life after she was gone. Don’t say that it didn’t make any difference how you were at her funeral, say instead that this calm, reserved state is just how you handle grief, that inside you were bawling but how could you be expected to act such a way in front of a bunch of strangers? Instead of saying that you simply “couldn’t take care of her any longer,” say that you knew she would have been happier in a home, with friends, and others of her age with similar interests… I was saying these things, but he wasn’t thinking them.

I wanted him to shout it out, though, because I too felt like he didn’t have a say in his own trial, that trials always seem to be entirely too third-person, that the persecuted is never able to defend himself; he has to instead rely on everyone else’s opinion of him.

I wanted him to show remorse, even if it was just for the fact that he’d never feel a woman’s touch again. I wanted him to outwardly show all the right emotions, even if inside they were for other things. I realized, though, towards the end, that it was the complete opposite. He was thinking of his mother, always, in a way that could hardly be called indifferent. Sure, he wasn’t recounting all the emotional aspects of their relationship, but he was thinking of advice she had given, of the times she had said something that only now applied to his life. I do this all the time and it’s because I respect and appreciate the concern my parents always had for me. Even if he didn’t have the ability to shout to the roof tops that he loved her, he did anyway.

It is a rather exceptional title for this book. Despite that I can see these traits in him, and despite that the entire book was narrated first-person and from his point of view, one is still left with a feeling of indifference. By the end, it seems only natural that he’ll probably be executed for what he did, even though earlier, inside, I was crying out for his welfare. Even though I know it wasn’t premeditated and the trial seemed a little unfair, it all spanned out in a perfectly logical way and it only makes sense that this would be the outcome. I don’t know him.

What I love most about this book, however, is the effect it has on the reader, or in any case, the effect it had on me as a reader. I wouldn’t be able to say if it would have the same effect on any other reader, but I would still recommend it because of this happenstance. You go through a lot of emotions but eventually end up as unattached as he is.

At first you don’t know what to make of it, but by part two, you’re on his side and defending him to the very thread of your being. Nothing particular caused this. He didn’t say something that made you like him more; you just seemed to gradually become his best friend. However, as you get closer to the end, you find yourself thinking more and more in his terms: yes, he’s probably right, this was probably inevitable; or yes, he is guilty, he does deserve this. I think it’s that last speech that really detaches the reader from him, and it doesn’t make you wonder if his appeal panned out or if he really was taken to the guillotine. You close the book knowing that he was a stranger to all the characters and to you, and the story is over. It really doesn’t matter if he lives or dies.

My edition is hardcover and 123 pages, probably not even the length of an amateur NaNoWriMo novel (if you guess about 400 words per page, you get 49,500 words for the book), and yet it takes you across the spectrum and back again. Beautifully accomplished.

Posted in Book Reviews