To be honest, I hesitated a bit before writing this review because I didn’t really know where to start. This book felt strange, from the first page to the last. The first part was somehow beautifully written, I liked the descriptions of his life. And yes, even though many bad things were already happening from the beginning, his mother’s funeral, one neighbour beating his wife, another his dog, the first part still felt surprisingly calm and almost comfortable, because we see everything from the distant perspective of the main character.

At the same time, it also annoyed me that Meursault showed no initiative. He ignores the cruel things others do, as long as they are nice to him, he is nice to them. I had already judged Meursault at that point. At the time, however, I didn’t yet realise that this is exactly what the book is about, but I will come back to that later.

We barely see any emotions from Meursault, but we do see a lot of instincts. When it comes to Marie, he never feels love, it is only ever described that he finds her attractive and feels desire for her. At the same time, he also doesn’t lie. He might agree just to avoid making things complicated, but he doesn’t put in the effort to construct a proper lie. There is something almost refreshing about that, even if it is deeply unsettling at the same time. Most people lie constantly, not out of malice, but simply to keep things smooth. Meursault cannot bring himself to do even that.

The only moments where I felt like I could see actual reactions or something like needs from Meursault were when someone didn’t like him or when he wasn’t understood. This was especially visible in the second part, for example in the conversations with his lawyer, whom he didn’t choose himself but was assigned to him because he didn’t care. The lawyer became annoyed with Meursault because he didn’t really cooperate and didn’t say anything that would help his case. But Meursault started to justify himself, not because of the trial, but because he was looking for understanding from the lawyer. In the courtroom, he also felt that he was being judged. It was also interesting that most people focused on his reaction to his mother’s funeral rather than on his crime, the murder he committed. It seems as if society is not judging him for his actions, but for not feeling the way they expect him to.

This also matches my own experience while reading. People need meaning, but Meursault gives us very little meaning, at least from my perspective. And that seems to be the problem. People look for meaning, emotions and explanations. When someone doesn’t provide that, they appear as a stranger, which is probably where the title comes from, and they get excluded or even punished. While reading, I noticed myself getting frustrated with his behaviour at times, which is probably exactly the reaction Camus intended. It made me realize how much we rely on emotional performance in everyday life. We expect people to react in certain ways, to grieve visibly, to show enthusiasm, to signal that they care. When someone does not, we do not just find them strange. We find them threatening.

One day after finishing the book, I had a conversation with a friend while having coffee. He told me about his new job and that during the interview he was asked where he sees himself in five years. But he didn’t really know how to answer and complained to me that this question is pointless. He said that answers to this question are usually not honest and are mostly about meeting society’s expectations. It also creates pressure, because once you say these goals out loud, you are expected to actually pursue them, both by yourself and by others.

This made the book a bit more understandable to me. Meursault is a more extreme example, but he probably avoided thinking about the future for a similar reason. Maybe there is a certain kind of freedom in that, but also a certain distance from society.

In the end, death plays a central role. The realisation that everyone will die eventually changes his perspective. Maybe it is exactly this finiteness that makes it possible to see life the way he does, without long-term consequences and without great meaning. The fact that he even accepts, or maybe even wants, the hatred of others at the end could mean that he has completely stopped caring about what people think of him. A form of freedom that is probably also connected to a deep sense of loneliness.