📚 The Stranger
In Camus’ captivating novel, “The Stranger,” one quote stands out: “I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.” With these words, we embark on a journey that shines brighter than Kafka’s “The Trial.” Meet Meursault, a detached and uninterested character who embodies life’s strangeness with stark clarity. As we delve into his story, we unravel profound themes that surpass the mystery of Kafka’s work. “The Stranger” prompts us to reflect on life’s meaning, embrace our individuality, and feel the weight of loneliness.
The Stranger
| Author: | Albert Camus |
| Year of release: | 1942 |
| Genre: | Classics, Fiction, Literature, Philosophy, Novels |
| Pages: | 123 |
| Average WPM: | 312 |
| Date Started/Finished: | 1-May-2022 to 9-May-2022 |
| Time took: | 1 Hours 50 Mins |
About the book
Impressions
- Better version of The Trial1
- The story kept going and wasn’t stuck at 1 place for long
How I Discovered It
By a TikTok from @americanbaron23
Who Should Read It?
Someone who wants to see life from the perspective of a person who doesn’t care
Summary + Notes
Chapter IV
- When she laughed I wanted her again. A moment later she asked me if I loved her. I said that sort of question had no meaning, really; but I supposed I didn’t.
- Through the wall there came to me a little wheezing sound, and I guessed that he was weeping. For some reason, I don’t know what, I began thinking of Mother. But I had to get up early next day; so, as I wasn’t feeling hungry, I did without supper, and went straight to bed.
Chapter V
- He then asked if a “change of life,” as he called it, didn’t appeal to me, and I answered that one never changed his way of life; one life was as good as another, and my present one suited me quite well. At this he looked rather hurt, and told me that I always shilly-shallied, and that I lacked ambition—a grave defect, to his mind, when one was in business.
- Marie came that evening and asked me if I’d marry her. I said I didn’t mind; if she was keen on it, we’d get married.
Chapter VI
- As I usually do when I want to get rid of someone whose conversation bores me, I pretended to agree.
Chapter VII
- Thus, I always began by assuming the worst; my appeal was dismissed. That meant, of course, I was to die. Sooner than others, obviously. “But,” I reminded myself, “it’s common knowledge that life isn’t worth living, anyhow.” And, on a wide view, I could see that it makes little difference whether one dies at the age of thirty or threescore and ten—since, in either case, other men and women will continue living, the world will go on as before. Also, whether I died now or forty years hence, this business of dying had to be got through, inevitably.
- Supposing she were dead, her memory would mean nothing; I couldn’t feel an interest in a dead girl. This seemed to me quite normal; just as I realized people would soon forget me once I was dead. I couldn’t even say that this was hard to stomach; really, there’s no idea to which one doesn’t get acclimatized in time.
- I said I saw no point in troubling my head about the matter; whether I believed or didn’t was, to my mind, a question of so little importance.
- I mightn’t be so sure about what interested me, I was absolutely sure about what didn’t interest me. And the question he had raised didn’t interest me at all.
- In his opinion every man on the earth was under sentence of death.
- Living as he did, like a corpse, he couldn’t even be sure of being alive.
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by the author.