In Albert Camus' "The Stranger," who is the actual stranger? The easy answer is that it's the protagonist, but what does that mean given that he's our entry point into this world? Well, it creates the perfect sense of disillusion, making one wonder the significance of life when the protagonist seems to lack a desire of it. He creates an apathetic tone around everything, starting with the death of his mother in the opening sentence. It's jarring, but it's even more odd how little he wallows over the situation. What does "The Stranger" really have to say about her death, or anyone's death for that matter? It's a book that may be short in length, but that only means that its questions and ideals are bigger and expand far beyond the bounded print of the book.
The book has a cold precision that makes everything in it feel impersonal. It's part of the reason that Camus' themes resonate so well. His protagonist, "The Stranger" is a man who wanders through life almost without focus. He has a menial job, a mediocre girlfriend, and an apathetic view of the world where the idea of shooting someone isn't titillating. It's just something to do. His value of life isn't complicated, in part because it doesn't exist. Maybe the answers lie somewhere within the brief, concise sentences, but it requires an attentiveness that would answer a question beyond why he is doing it. In order to understand this man, one has to ask the bigger questions of Camus' journey. Is it a journey to find meaning, or is there any meaning in life at all? It all hinges on his mother's death after all, but why even bring it up?
Camus is cold in the first half, creating a sense of carelessness. It's a man who wanders around and doesn't wonder too much about his lot in life. Instead, he lives it passively without thought. It's what makes the second half particularly interesting. Once The Stranger happens to feel consequences for his actions, he begins to have a conscience and asks more selfish questions. Now that his life is in jeopardy, suddenly life matters again. His journey from court to prison to death is one that is just as mundane at times, but begins to have a dread to it that helps to resonate even larger. At times it counteracts the first half in a way that serves as a brilliant dissertation to the whole experience. What does others' lives mean compared to your own? What is selfish and not? If The Stranger doesn't care about his mother, then whom does he care about?
A lot of ink has been spilled about the impressive, deftly written prose in Camus' book. He manages to capture the impersonal struggle of man better than most authors can. By writing concise and direct sentences, he creates a world that never has too many details, instead allowing everything to be an internal struggle in ways that are more universal. Most people haven't shot people on a beach, but that doesn't mean that the thought hasn't been there. It creates a personal interaction with the reader that causes them to think of the situation by being in the moment. What would they do? By keeping the bigger picture vague, it allows the imagination to wander and create a scenario fitting for everyone. It's a powerful, simple story with a lot to say. It is deceptively simple, much like the protagonist, and is even more excellently meta thanks to a need to not only understand Camus, but The Stranger that he created, too.
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