When asked about his mother’s death, whether or not he cried or felt grief, he said he’d rather his mother not have died, but that’s all he can say about it. But on the inside, how he sees and feels, or doesn’t feel things, is different. Rather, more often than not he’s trying to explain how he’s just the same as everyone else. There’s much to be said in regards to absurdist philosophy, Camus’s other writings, and The Stranger, but interpreted on its own terms Meursault comes across as someone who has chosen a very specific way to deal with his own life. It might not seem that way, but his point of view, distaste for emotion and religion, are a kind of coping strategy, as well as a world view, that I find relatable. Now, with some distance between this current reading of the novel and the previous, I feel that there’s something deeply human about the way Meursault reacts to his world. I don’t think I was old enough or experienced enough to understand the absurdity of the entire situation as he moves through his days, unconcerned by major life decisions.
I remember reading The Stranger for the first time and being surprised by Meursault’s bluntness. There’s the death of his mother, but he also experiences violence, what should’ve been, or could’ve been, love, happiness, and grief, all alongside freedom and imprisonment. We encounter him as he deals with some of life’s major changes and curveballs. He goes on a condensed journey through The Stranger. Who is this person that speaks so frivolously about the death of their own mother? What is the rest of their life like? It is this line that draws you in and makes you want to know more. Camus’ opening line, declaring from the first-person perspective that the speaker isn’t sure whether or not his mother died today or yesterday, is quite memorable.
The story opens with Meursault receiving the news that his mother, who he put into an old age home, has died.
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