There’s something unsettling about a book that makes you question whether you’ve been performing your entire life.
I remember reading the opening line of Camus’ The Stranger— “Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don’t know”— and feeling genuinely disturbed. Not by the death itself. By how honest it felt. We’re supposed to grieve in specific ways, show up to funerals with the right face, say the expected things. But what happens when someone just… doesn’t?
Meursault’s refusal to fake emotions he doesn’t feel might be the most radical act in modern literature. And if you’ve ever sat through a social situation wondering why everyone else seems to know the script except you, this novel will hit differently than you expect.
The Power of Emotional Distance
Meursault moves through life with an unsettling emotional detachment. It attracts us. It repels us. His indifference to his mother’s death sets the tone for a narrative that challenges our fundamental assumptions about how we’re supposed to feel and behave.
What makes this emotional distance so powerful? It holds up a mirror.
Through Meursault’s eyes, we begin to question the authenticity of our own emotional performances— the faces we put on, the grief we display, the joy we perform because that’s what the moment seems to require. Are our reactions genuine, or are they simply what society demands of us?
Beyond Convention: Society on Trial
The novel’s brilliant reversal comes during Meursault’s trial. Here’s what we realize: he’s not being judged for his crime. He’s being judged for his failure to play by society’s rules.
He didn’t cry at his mother’s funeral. He went swimming the next day. He formed a relationship. These natural actions become evidence against him in a trial that puts social conventions themselves in the dock.
The court scenes reveal something uncomfortable. We often condemn others not for their actions, but for their failure to perform expected emotional responses. It’s a criticism that feels particularly relevant in our age of carefully curated public personas.
Finding Meaning in the Absurd
What makes The Stranger deeply relevant today is its exploration of life’s fundamental absurdity. Meursault’s journey from detached observer to condemned man leads him to a profound realization: the universe doesn’t care about our human desires for meaning and justice.
It simply doesn’t.
Yet paradoxically, it’s through accepting this apparent meaninglessness that Meursault finds a kind of peace. His story challenges us to question whether true authenticity might require stepping outside society’s prescribed emotional scripts— even when that feels terrifying, even when it costs us.
This acceptance embodies a radical form of liberation. Meursault rejects societal expectations and embraces the absurdity of existence, echoing themes found in existential philosophy, particularly in Sartre’s existentialism explained, which posits that individuals must create their own meaning in a world devoid of inherent purpose.
Meursault’s journey invites us to reconsider something important: the value of conformity versus the intense freedom that comes with embracing your own emotional landscape, however unconventional it may be.
The Novel’s Lasting Impact
The genius of The Stranger lies in how it continues to unsettle readers decades after its publication. Sparse prose. Philosophical depth. And a challenge that never stops gnawing at us: examine your own relationship with social conventions and emotional authenticity.
The novel forces us to confront the absurdity of life. Understanding Kierkegaard’s key concepts— such as the importance of personal choice and the struggle for authentic existence— allows readers to delve deeper into Meursault’s apathetic demeanor. This exploration reveals not just a character study, but a profound commentary on the human condition, illuminating the complexities of our own choices and beliefs in an often indifferent universe.
Meursault embodies the philosophy of absurdism, challenging our understanding of meaning and purpose. His disconnection from societal expectations forces readers to confront uncomfortable truths about their own lives. About their own beliefs. As we navigate existential questions, the novel remains a powerful reminder of the complexities of human experience and the search for authenticity in a world that often feels arbitrary.
Reading it today, we might ask ourselves: How often do we perform emotions because they’re expected rather than felt? What would it mean to live more authentically, even if that authenticity challenges social norms?
Share your thoughts in the comments: Have you ever felt like a stranger to society’s emotional expectations? What did reading The Stranger reveal to you about authenticity and social conventions?
Remember: The value isn’t in finding definitive answers. It’s in asking these essential questions about how we choose to live in an absurd universe.
FAQs
What is the main message of The Stranger by Camus?
The main message is that life has no inherent meaning. And society punishes those who don’t conform to expected emotional displays. Camus illustrates absurdism— the conflict between humans seeking meaning and an indifferent universe. Meursault’s honesty about his feelings becomes his downfall.
Why is Meursault called ‘the stranger’?
Meursault is a “stranger” because he’s alienated from society’s emotional expectations and moral conventions. He doesn’t cry at his mother’s funeral. He doesn’t express remorse for killing. His strangeness lies in his refusal to lie about his feelings to satisfy social norms.
What does The Stranger teach about the meaning of life?
The Stranger suggests life has no predetermined meaning— we must create our own. But rather than despair, Camus advocates accepting absurdity and living fully in the present. Meursault finds peace only when he accepts the indifference of the universe and embraces his authentic existence.
Is The Stranger hard to read?
No. The Stranger is relatively short (about 120 pages) and written in simple, direct prose. Camus intentionally used sparse language to mirror Meursault’s detached perspective. The philosophical concepts emerge naturally from the story rather than through complex language.
Meursault's indifference, for me, contains a comic element. I'm thinking of the scene where Marie asks him if he wants to marry her and he basically says it's all the same to him, so sure, why not? I felt that Woody Allen could make a lot of hay with such a plot – a man so disconnected from feeling anything about life that he's game for anything.
I just finished reading The Stranger attempting to get into philosophical masterpieces. I am going through a tough breakup, but find myself back into a relationship arguably sooner than I should be. The book made me realize which feelings I had were more prominent than the ones I felt like I HAD to feel, highlighting my empathy for my ex-girlfriend seems to be just a mirror reflection of the normal adaptation of moving on, rather than a choice I genuinely felt bad for. If I had genuinely felt bad, I would have never gotten into the next relationship. To me, the Stranger is a wake up call for self reflection, as it called me to truly analyze the authenticity of my emotion versus that of which I was encouraged to feel.