The Stranger
There is a stigma branded with the word strange. It is a word that marks one as different from the world, a distinction that can become one’s most painful torture or one’s greatest liberation. Mersault, from Camus’ novel, The Stranger, is one who is liberated by being strange. Free from the commandment of religion, from the moral restrictions of society, he is able to live his life as he pleases.
Mersault’s strangeness is evident from the first line of the story to the last. He felt no grief over his mother’s death, though he bore no grudge against her. He felt no emotional attraction to his girlfriend, Marie, saying outright he does not love her when he was given a marriage proposal. He shot an Arab five times, for no discernible reason, and his last thoughts, before his execution, was that he hoped a large crowd would greet him with cries of hate on his death day.
Why? Why does he think that way? Why does he act the way he does? Why is he so, well, strange?
Instinctively the reader may try to rationalize Mersault’s character to categorize him within a convenient label, to keep the rational mind satisfied in much the same way the judge labels Mersault as “Monsieur Antichris” to appease his rigid, religious order of society. Either one acts in a godly manner or acts like the devil. The judge’s attempt to reason out Mersault’s actions as the ways of a heretical madman in absurd. Strange.
That is the strangest part of Camus’ novel. It is not Mersault. In fact, he may be the most rational being in the story. He sees the world and sees life simply for what they are, accepts them as they are, and imposes no absurd order on their existence. It is the judge who is strange, along with anyone who requires a reason for everything. Camus has reversed the definitions of normal and abnormal, and showed the strangeness of man’s attempt to rationalize everything, making most ridiculous endeavors to explain his surroundings. The universe is unbounded, simply being what it is, and only the foolish would attempt to contain it into a tunnel-visioned order.
Life is meaningless, but not worthless. Though Mersault doesn’t believe certain choices in life are better than others, he does make sure his life is lived. And so, in its wonderful strangeness, Camus’ novel gives a wonderful message through Mersault’s uncaring character: every choice one makes in life is fully in one’s own power, and no choice is ever wrong as long as one is aware for the consequences that follow.
- This was one of my BS papers, as I’m not an existentialist. It wasn’t an argumentative paper either, simply an exploratory piece. I do, however, recognize the merits of the philosophy despite disagreeing with it.
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Posted by Denny on 03.18.08 10:34 pm
I, too, recently had to write an essay on The Stranger. I was going to offer my own insights on the novel, but we pretty much said the same thing. Regardless, existentialism is intriguing, especially when you consider that people devote their entire lives to its teachings.