Is Albert Camus’ The Stranger really the most important book of the 20th century? After talking a little about existentialism, my AP Literature teacher asked my class if we liked the book. The whole class except me and one other girl loved the book. He asked her why she didn’t like it, and then he came to me (we’ve had philosophical and basic point of view disagreements all year, so he likes to pick on me for my interpretation sometimes) and said, “Hannah, why didn’t you like the book, which, in my opinion, is the most important book of the 20th century?”
Why didn’t I like The Stranger? Perhaps, on a basic level, because I found I couldn’t relate to the character. I have a well developed system of values and morals that help me aspire for something greater; my life has purpose because God gives it purpose. I may never understand life, but I can understand what God has enabled me to understand, and that is enough. The protagonist of The Stranger, however, cares about nothing. Everything is meaningless, himself included. He did not grieve over his mother’s death, he did not want a chance to work in Paris as provided by his boss, he did not suffer despair after murdering an Arab. The only seemingly resolution he ever makes (and I’m not even sure it was a resolution at that, because he doesn’t seem to have an ounce of conviction in his character) was of the strange satisfaction he would experience as the public shouted at him at his execution.
A character who cares about nothing, becomes nothing, and dies as something almost sounds good. Is that why the book is considered great literature? But then again, who am I to judge whether literature is great or not? I let sentimentality ruin my writing.
Perhaps I can make a tentative stab at the author’s vehement philosophy: existentialism. From what I gather from my teacher’s lectures on existentialism, life is meaningless. We know we exist, we know we are alive, but human morality is meaningless, values are dead, and nothing really matters. We also know life by itself is meaningless from a biblical standpoint (Ecclesiastes 1,2). But why am I so against an apparent truth? Because Ecclesiastes 3:9-14 says,
What does the worker gain from his toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil–this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and noting taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him.
This is an amazing section of Ecclesiastes. After asking in chapter 1:3, “What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun?” the question is answered: man gains rest. Man may enjoy his food and drink and find satisfaction in his work. Emptiness is filled, meaninglessness is given purpose and direction. Ah! So life is not meant to be a series of nothings? We are not meant to carry the burden of our own empty existences? No. If we look to God, He will carry our burdens, give us rest and give us meaning.
Since that is true, then we are looking for a way up and out of the world as we know it and into a new perspective. This sounds very familiar. If you do not remember my post on Plato’s theory of the cave, then jog your memory by scrolling down a bit. If we wanted out of this cave of shadows, then someone would have to tell us about light, and we would have to believe him. He would then have to lead us into the sunshine, not all at once because our eyes need to adjust, but bit by bit, and here we are: no longer shadow people, but real people. Here comes the connection: if God is the truth and the light, and we are the shadow people, then Jesus must be the messenger. “No one comes to the Father except through me.”
So here’s why I don’t like Camus’ The Stranger. It seems to me that the existentialist theme almost verges on the ridiculous: people searching for meaning in life discover there’s none, and then wallow in their own indifference. But the thing is, the protagonist’s indifference comes off as a burden to everyone else he associates with: the mother misses her son and never sees him before she dies, the boss becomes frustrated and needs to find another person to take the protagonist’s place in France, and the protagonist’s defense lawyer loses the case, resulting in the execution of the protagonist himself, who, of course, doesn’t mind because he believes that life is meaningless. The ridiculousness became apparent to me when I realized his indifference was really selfishness regarding other people. Maybe nothing mattered to him, but everyone else seemed to care for something.
So now I wonder…is existentialism really a valid philosophy, or is it just an excuse not to go beyond the shadows?
