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enan_ajmain 's review for:
The Stranger
by Albert Camus
I am utterly inadequate to parse this book, let alone review it. The knowledge of philosophy required to pick up on the symbols is out of reach for me. All I can say is I am confused by the protagonist, by his journey, and by how much I connected with him even though he exhibits characteristics of a sociopath.
The Stranger is a quick read. A first-person narrator explains his life after the death of his mother in a detached, callous voice. This narrator, Meursault, is mostly without emotions (he doesn't cry at his mother's demise) but not totally (he delights in physical sensations: the sight of the sea or the touch of his girlfriend Marie), and definitely without remorse ("I had never been able to truly feel remorse for anything"). When he reasons that everybody dies so there is no reason to cry over the dead, I'm with him. But when he agrees to help a pimp beat up a girl seemingly because why not, I was horrified. When the prosecutor of his trial focuses less on the crime he committed and more on his behavior at his mother's funeral, I thought it absurd. But when he says the reason he shot a person is because of the sun, even though he shot him five times, I was dumbfounded.
Suffice it to say, I am at a loss as to how to read this book. The four stars associated with this review is only regarding the writing, which was brisk and tight; the stars are not for the themes explored or the philosophies espoused in it. I look forward to the day I will feel adequate enough to read this one more time. I look forward to the books that'll come in between then and now.
The Stranger is a quick read. A first-person narrator explains his life after the death of his mother in a detached, callous voice. This narrator, Meursault, is mostly without emotions (he doesn't cry at his mother's demise) but not totally (he delights in physical sensations: the sight of the sea or the touch of his girlfriend Marie), and definitely without remorse ("I had never been able to truly feel remorse for anything"). When he reasons that everybody dies so there is no reason to cry over the dead, I'm with him. But when he agrees to help a pimp beat up a girl seemingly because why not, I was horrified. When the prosecutor of his trial focuses less on the crime he committed and more on his behavior at his mother's funeral, I thought it absurd. But when he says the reason he shot a person is because of the sun, even though he shot him five times, I was dumbfounded.
Suffice it to say, I am at a loss as to how to read this book. The four stars associated with this review is only regarding the writing, which was brisk and tight; the stars are not for the themes explored or the philosophies espoused in it. I look forward to the day I will feel adequate enough to read this one more time. I look forward to the books that'll come in between then and now.