The Stranger
Albert Camus · Fiction · 134 pages
2025-05-23 23:24
#Book #Philosophy #Education #Complete
Part one
Page 1-3 (Beginning)
Someone's maman died. It seems like he doesn't give a damn about it or he is too deep in a sorrow to think rationally. He even doesn't know when she died, and the only available thing for him is a telegram which was delivered yesterday from home. I understood that he lives in Algiers while his parent lived in Marengo, and that the distance is close between two on them. From the "someone"'s perspective, the boss is not a good man. [Emmanuel] was introduced – his uncle died recently as well.
Page 4-12 (The Vigil)
Looks like they had pretty strange relationship with mother. The director of caretaking place for elderly people basically said: "you was to poor to comfort your mother". And the main character conformed director's words. They met rarely with his mother. The author finally gave me the names of main character [Monsieur Meursault] and his mom [Madam Meursault].
The vigil. Bunch of old people and [Monsieur Meursault]. Night was uncomfortable. No one spoke a word. [Monsieur Meursault] was making negative - neutral statements about people there. Night ended. "Surprisingly, everyone shook my hand, like the night brought us closer…(he means that it didn't)".
Page 12-18 (Road to the cementry)
Page 19-24 (Again, Sunday)
It occurred to me that anyway one more Sunday was over, that Maman was buried now, that I was going back to work, and that, really, nothing had changed.
Exactly how modern routine looks like for millions, or even billions, of people. Procrastications is the key here.
Page 25-33 (Salamano & Raymond)
Two somewhat nasty individuals
Page 34-46 (Action)
Romance with [Marie] & Salamano lost his dog & Raymond beats up his ex-mistress All the actions make you feel that the main character is peculiar indeed. He just follows the flow. He just flows.
Page 47-62 (Arabs)
[Monsieur Meursault], [Maria], and [Raymond] went to the Raymond's friend [Masson] and his wife. They had a great time until Arabs showed up. First time, they clashed, leaving [Raymond] injured. Second time, they left. Third, out GG shot one of the Arabs 5 times on the beach.
And it was like four times knocking on the door of unhappiness.
Part 2
Page 63-71 (The Court)
I'm confused. I'm indeed confused. I can't understand what kind of people are [Monsieur Meursault] and the Judge. They were so interesting, but yet out of the reach of my comprehension of human nature. I suppose Part 2 is more into philosophy while the first one was more into the narrative. Basically, he was questioned - everything went almost smoothly. Almost because of the part of God.
Page 72-81 (Prison)
I realized then that a man who had lived only one day could easily live a hundred years in prison.
A man had left a Czech village to seek his fortune. Twenty-five years later, and now rich, he had returned with a wife and a child. His mother was running a hotel with his sister in the village where he’d been born. In order to surprise them, he had left his wife and child at another hotel and gone to see his mother, who didn’t recognize him when he walked in. As a joke, he’d had the idea of taking a room. He had shown off his money. During the night, his mother and his sister had beaten him to death with a hammer in order to rob him and had thrown his body in the river. The next morning, the wife had come to the hotel and, without knowing it, gave away the traveler’s identity. The mother hanged herself. The sister threw herself down a well.
Well, our gg is describing the routine of a prisoner. You loose your freedom. The mindset of a citizen, free, changes to the mindset of prisoner, locked. Only [Marie] visited him. He been there for 5 month already.
Page 82-97 (Court of Assizes)
Well, it is clear that the prosecutor is winning by far. Out GG seems to be a bad person due to the events related to mother at most. Those from the Maman's house made the things worse as well as did Raymond, and Marie a bit. Again, seems like nothing works out for him. However, I'm really into who are those two individuals: Robot-Lady and Young reporter.
Page 98-107 (Death Sentence)
Even worse - sentence to death. It's almost the end of the book. I'm still in confusion.
Page 108- 127 (End)
I can feel the regret of him before being excecuted. He also talks on the seriousness of the decisions in courts - some random people decide whether a person deserves to live or not.
"Sooner than other people will, obviously. But everybody knows life isn’t worth living. Deep down I knew perfectly well that it doesn’t much matter whether you die at thirty or at seventy, since in either case other men and women will naturally go on living—and for thousands of years. In fact, nothing could be clearer. Whether it was now or twenty years from now, I would still be the one dying. At that point, what would disturb my train of thought was the terrifying leap I would feel my heart take at the idea of having twenty more years of life ahead of me. But I simply had to stifle it by imagining what I’d be thinking in twenty years when it would all come down to the same thing anyway. Since we’re all going to die, it’s obvious that when and how don’t matter. Therefore (and the difficult thing was not to lose sight of all the reasoning that went into this “therefore”), I had to accept the rejection of my appeal."
Open end. I didn't understand these pages. I have to reread or watch an explanation But I finished the book. And I feel extremely confused, almost absurd. The life full of regrets and the life full of absurd - this was the case with [Meursault]. He didn't really care about anything - his slogan it is what is it, and that's it.
13.01.26 - I randomly started understanding what is all about, the book. It's about everything. Everything being so absurd nowadays
Reread (Jan 14, 2026)(Last Chapter)
1) “For the third time I’ve refused to see the chaplain… I’ll be seeing him soon enough as it is.”
Plain meaning: He refuses the prison priest again. He doesn’t want comfort, confession, or religion. And “I’ll be seeing him soon enough” is a dark joke: he’ll be dead soon, so he’ll “see” a priest at death anyway.
Why it matters: Meursault rejects religion because it offers a _story_ (God, meaning, afterlife) that he doesn’t feel is true for him.
2) “All I care about right now is escaping the machinery of justice… the inevitable.”
Plain meaning: He only cares about one thing: getting out of the system that is going to kill him. “Machinery” makes justice sound like a cold machine: once it starts, it keeps moving.
Why it matters: Camus is implying the legal system isn’t really about “truth” or “meaning,” but about procedures, rituals, and punishment.
3) “They’ve put me in a different cell… I see the sky and that’s all I see.”
Plain meaning: He’s in a new cell where, lying on his bed, he can only see the sky.
Why it matters: The sky becomes his whole world — and also a symbol of freedom (outside) versus captivity (inside). He’s reduced to watching time pass.
4) “I can’t count the times I’ve wondered if there have ever been any instances of condemned men escaping…”
Plain meaning: He keeps obsessively thinking: _Has anyone ever escaped execution? Has anyone ever slipped out before the guillotine?_
Why it matters: This is what a death sentence does: your brain searches for any loophole, any exception, any story where the machine fails.
5) “Then I blame myself… A man should always take an interest in those things.”
Plain meaning: He regrets not paying attention to execution stories earlier. He sarcastically says you should always be interested in executions — because you never know when it’ll be you.
Why it matters: It’s bitter irony: society treats executions like news or spectacle, until it becomes personal.
6) “Maybe I would have found some accounts of escapes… Just once!”
Plain meaning: He imagines that if he’d read the right book, he might’ve found _one_ real example where fate changed — where the wheel stopped.
Why “wheel” / “calculation” matters:
- “wheel” = the system/fate turning
- “unrelenting calculation” = everything planned, measured, scheduled (trial → sentence → execution)
- “chance and luck” changing something” = a random accident that breaks the plan
He doesn’t need “many” miracles. Even one true escape story would give him fuel.
7) “In a way, I think that would have been enough. My heart would have taken over from there.”
Plain meaning: If he could believe escape was possible even once, his emotions would grab onto that and keep him going. He could live off that hope.
Why it matters: He’s describing how humans work: we can survive terrible reality if we have a believable _maybe_.
8) “The papers were always talking about the debt owed to society… it had to be paid.”
Plain meaning: Newspapers say criminals “owe society” and must “pay” (punishment as a debt).
Why it matters: Meursault sees this language as empty and automatic. It’s society narrating punishment like it’s math: crime → debt → payment.
9) “But that doesn’t speak to the imagination.”
Plain meaning: That “debt to society” idea doesn’t emotionally help him. It doesn’t change what he feels in the cell.
Why it matters: When you face death, abstract moral slogans don’t comfort you. You want something vivid: escape, freedom, life.
10) “What really counted was the possibility of escape… a wild run for it… whatever chance for hope there was.”
Plain meaning: The only thing that feels real is: _Maybe I can get out._ Even a desperate run gives him the only kind of hope available.
Why it matters: Hope here is not spiritual. It’s physical and practical: “getting free.”
11) “Of course, hope meant being cut down… by a random bullet.”
Plain meaning: Even if he ran, he’d probably be shot. That’s what “hope” looks like now: a small chance that likely ends violently.
Why it matters: This is super Camus: hope isn’t beautiful — it’s brutal and risky, but it’s still hope.
12) “But when I really thought it through… Everything was against it; I would just be caught up in the machinery again.”
Plain meaning: After thinking honestly, he realizes escape is basically impossible. Even if he tried, the system would grab him again.
Why it matters: This is him confronting the inevitability of death and the power of systems.
“Despite my willingness to understand, I just couldn’t accept such arrogant certainty.”
He’s saying: _I tried to understand them, but I can’t stand how sure they act — like they possess absolute truth._
- arrogant certainty = people acting like they are 100% right, with no doubt, like gods.
“there really was something ridiculously out of proportion between the verdict … and the imperturbable march of events…”
He notices a mismatch:
- On one side: a verdict that pretends to be perfectly serious, logical, meaningful.
- On the other side: what happens after the verdict — a calm, unstoppable sequence of steps leading to execution.
“out of proportion” = doesn’t match / doesn’t fit “imperturbable march of events” = the system moving forward without emotion, like a machine.
He’s basically saying: _How can they speak with grand certainty, when everything that follows is just a mechanical routine?_
The list of “facts” (this is the core)
He starts listing details to show how arbitrary (random/accidental) the whole thing feels:
1) “The fact that the sentence had been read at eight o’clock at night and not at five…”
He’s pointing out: _Even the time could’ve been different._ That makes the verdict feel less “holy” and more like bureaucracy.
2) “the fact that it could have been an entirely different one…”
The sentence might have been different (life, fewer years, etc.). So this “certainty” is built on something that easily could’ve changed.
3) “the fact that it had been decided by men who change their underwear…”
This is deliberately insulting and funny in a dark way.
He means: _These judges are not divine. They’re ordinary bodies who do ordinary, slightly gross human things._ So why are they pretending their judgment is absolute and sacred?
4) “the fact that it had been handed down in the name of some vague notion called the French (or German, or Chinese) people…”
He’s criticizing the idea of “the People” as an abstract authority.
He’s like: _They claim they’re doing this “in the name of the French people”… but that’s just a vague label. It could be any country. It’s a slogan that tries to make the punishment sound meaningful._
“all of it seemed to detract from the seriousness of the decision.”
All these details make the verdict feel less serious and less meaningful — almost absurd.
- detract = take away from / reduce
“I was forced to admit, however, that from the moment it had been passed its consequences became as real and as serious as the wall…”
This is the twist at the end:
Even if the verdict feels absurd and arbitrary, its effects are real.
He’s saying: _I can think the decision is ridiculous — but the prison wall is still there. The execution is still coming. The machine still works._
That’s very Camus: meaning may be questionable, but reality hits anyway.
1) The story about his father watching an execution
“Maman used to tell me… he’d gone to watch a murderer be executed… he spent half the morning throwing up.”
Plain meaning: Meursault’s father once went to see a public execution, even though the idea made him sick. After seeing it, he vomited for hours.
“I remember feeling a little disgusted by him… But now I understood, it was perfectly normal.”
Plain meaning: When Meursault was younger, he thought his father was weak or gross for reacting like that. Now he realizes: that reaction is human. Watching a person get killed should make you sick.
“How had I not seen that there was nothing more important than an execution…?”
What he means (and why it’s intense): This is Meursault’s prison logic: when death is close, _execution becomes the center of reality_. Everything else feels small compared to the fact that a human life can be ended by a scheduled procedure.
It’s not that he suddenly “loves” executions — it’s that he realizes: the only truly serious topic is death, because it’s the one thing you can’t escape.
“If I ever got out… I would go and watch every execution there was.”
This sounds shocking, but it’s meant to show obsession:
- He’s trapped thinking about his own execution.
- So he imagines the opposite role: being the free spectator.
It’s like his brain is saying: _If execution is the biggest truth, then I’d stare at it directly._
2) “A wave of poisoned joy rose in my throat.”
“…standing behind a cordon of police—on the outside… the spectator who comes to watch and then can go and throw up afterwards… a wave of poisoned joy…”
Plain meaning: He imagines being free on the “outside,” watching an execution, and then leaving afterward. That fantasy gives him a burst of joy, but it’s “poisoned” because it’s mixed with something ugly: violence, sickness, and the fact that he’s imagining freedom while he’s actually condemned.
“poisoned joy” = happiness that tastes wrong, because it comes from desperation and darkness.
Then he catches himself:
“But I wasn’t being reasonable… it was a mistake to let myself get carried away…”
He’s saying: fantasizing like this is dangerous because reality will smash him right after.
“because the next minute I would get so cold… curl up… teeth chattering…”
That’s the physical side of prison: your mind runs, then your body reminds you you’re trapped and powerless.
3) The “new laws” idea: giving the condemned man a chance
“you can’t always be reasonable… I would make up new laws… The most important thing was to give the condemned man a chance.”
He starts daydreaming about reforming executions.
His key point: Even a tiny chance of survival would change everything psychologically.
“Even one in a thousand was good enough…”
Because even a 0.1% chance is still _hope_. Hope is huge when you’re facing certainty.
The “chemicals” that kill 9 times out of 10
He proposes a messed-up “humane” system:
- A poison that usually kills, but sometimes doesn’t.
- The condemned person would knowingly take that risk.
Why he calls him a “patient”:
- He’s mocking how the system pretends it’s “clinical” or “clean.”
- It turns killing into something like a medical procedure.
This is Camus showing how institutions use “neutral” language to hide brutality.
4) His real complaint about the guillotine: zero chance
“the trouble with the guillotine was that you had no chance at all, absolutely none.”
This is the heart of the passage.
It’s not only that it kills — it kills with perfect certainty.
“It was an open-and-shut case… fixed arrangement… no question of going back… If the blade failed, they would just start over.”
Meaning: even the _accident_ (blade fails) doesn’t save you. They’ll simply do it again.
So the machine is designed to remove chance.
5) “Moral collaboration”: the condemned ends up cooperating with his own execution
“the condemned man had to hope the machine would work the first time… and I say that’s wrong.”
This is dark and brilliant.
He realizes something twisted:
- If you’re going to be executed, the least horrible outcome is that it happens quickly.
- So the condemned person ends up _hoping_ the guillotine works properly.
“that was the whole secret of good organization… the condemned man was forced into a kind of moral collaboration…”
Plain meaning: A well-run execution system doesn’t just physically control you — it psychologically traps you into cooperating.
You become aligned with the system’s goal:
- You want it to be “efficient” so you suffer less.
- That means, emotionally, you’re pushed into being a participant in your own death.
This is what he means by “moral collaboration”: The system makes you _complicit_ in its smooth operation.
The big theme (in one sentence)
Camus is showing that the horror isn’t only death — it’s a society that turns death into an efficient routine and can even make the victim mentally cooperate with that routine.
Page 111: The guillotine is not “a big heroic scene”
“I’d had mistaken ideas… I believed… you had to climb stairs onto a scaffold.”
Plain meaning: He always imagined an execution like in old stories: stairs, a platform, drama — like the French Revolution images.
Why he believed it: Because that’s how history and movies/lessons portray it: public spectacle, height, crowds, theatre.
“But one morning I remembered seeing a photograph… In reality, the machine was set up right on the ground… much narrower than I’d thought.”
Plain meaning: He recalls a real photo and realizes: the guillotine sits on the ground, plain and narrow — not grand.
Why that hits him: It removes the “epic” feeling. It becomes something you can just walk up to.
“The guillotine looked like such a precision instrument, perfect and gleaming… You always get exaggerated notions of things you don’t know anything about.”
Plain meaning: From a distance, he had imagined it as a shiny, almost impressive machine. And he admits: when you don’t truly know something, your mind makes it bigger/more dramatic than it is.
Big idea: Ignorance creates “myths.” Reality is smaller and colder.
“Everything was very simple: the guillotine is on the same level as the man… He walks up to it the way you walk up to another person.”
Plain meaning: The condemned person doesn’t climb. He just walks up. Same height. No symbolic “rising” to the moment.
Why it “bothered” him: Because it feels normal. That’s what’s horrifying: you approach death like you’d approach a person. No ceremony protects you from it.
“Mounting the scaffold… going right up into the sky… was something the imagination could hold on to.”
Plain meaning: The “scaffold” fantasy at least gave his mind something to picture: a big, cinematic scene. His imagination could _use that drama as distance_.
“Whereas… the machine destroyed everything: you were killed discreetly, with a little shame and with great precision.”
Plain meaning: The real guillotine leaves no drama and no dignity. It’s quiet, efficient, and slightly humiliating.
- discreetly = quietly, without spectacle (or at least without “meaning”)
- a little shame = you’re reduced to a body being processed
- great precision = like a technical operation
Camus’ point: the modern world turns even death into administration.
Page 112: Two obsessions — dawn and his appeal
“There were two other things I was always thinking about: the dawn and my appeal.”
Plain meaning: He can’t stop thinking about:
1. dawn (morning) — because executions often happen early, so dawn becomes a trigger for fear
2. appeal — a last legal chance to reverse the sentence
These are the two “threads” keeping his mind trapped.
“I would reason with myself… try not to think about them… I would stretch out… look at the sky… force myself to find something interesting… It would turn green: that was evening.”
Plain meaning: He tries distraction: watching sky colors, forcing interest, using time markers. But it’s basically him trying to survive minute by minute.
“I would listen to my heartbeat… I couldn’t imagine that this sound… could ever stop.”
Plain meaning: He focuses on the most basic proof of life: his heart. He can’t truly imagine “not existing.”
This is very human: we can _understand_ death logically, but we struggle to _feel_ it as real.
“I would try to picture the exact moment when the beating of my heart would no longer be going on inside my head. But it was no use.”
Plain meaning: He tries to imagine the exact second of death — but the mind can’t really simulate its own absence. It slips away.
“The dawn or my appeal would still be there.”
Plain meaning: No matter what he does, those two thoughts return. They “wait” for him.
“I would end up telling myself that the most rational thing was not to hold myself back.”
Plain meaning (important): He starts concluding: since he can’t escape the truth, the best strategy is not to restrain his mind/emotions, not to waste energy pretending he’s fine.
Depending on translation, this often leads into his later attitude: _stop bargaining, stop pretending, face it directly._
“They always came at dawn… so I spent my nights waiting for that dawn.”
Plain meaning: He knows executions (or the guards who come to take you) usually happen early morning. So nighttime becomes torture: he can’t relax because he’s waiting for the moment they might come.
Key idea: Dawn = not “a new beginning,” but a possible end.
“I’ve never liked being surprised… If something is going to happen to me, I want to be there.”
Plain meaning: He hates the idea of it happening suddenly, without him being mentally present. He wants control over at least _his awareness_.
It’s like: _If I’m going to die, don’t ambush me in my sleep._
“That’s why I ended up sleeping only a little bit during the day… then, all night long, waited…”
Plain meaning: He flips his sleep schedule: naps in the day so he can stay alert at night. He’s trying to avoid the fear of being taken while asleep.
“The hardest time was that uncertain hour… After midnight, I would wait and watch.”
Plain meaning: The worst part isn’t even dawn itself — it’s the _unknown window_ when it could happen. After midnight every sound becomes suspicious.
“My ears had never heard so many noises… picked up such small sounds.”
Plain meaning: Fear sharpens his senses. He notices tiny noises that he’d normally ignore.
This is realistic: anxiety makes you hyper-aware.
“I was lucky… since I never heard footsteps.”
Plain meaning: No footsteps = no guards coming to take him. Each night without that sound feels like survival.
“Maman used to say you can always find something to be happy about… I found out she was right.”
Plain meaning: In prison, he learns a harsh version of that idea: even in a nightmare, you can find a “good thing.”
But the “good thing” here is minimal and sad.
“when the sky turned red and a new day slipped into my cell…”
Plain meaning: Morning light enters his cell. A new day arrives quietly (“slipped”).
Why it matters: The day arriving means: _I wasn’t taken tonight. I’m still alive._
“Because I might just as easily have heard footsteps and my heart could have burst.”
Plain meaning: If he had heard them, the shock/fear could’ve been unbearable. So the fact he didn’t hear them is a huge relief.
“I would rush to the door at the slightest shuffle… ear pressed to the wood… wait frantically…”
Plain meaning: He describes panic behavior: he jumps up, listens, checks, waits—like someone expecting an alarm to go off.
“until I heard the sound of my own breathing… so hoarse, like a dog’s panting…”
Plain meaning: He’s so scared that his breathing becomes rough and animal-like. He’s basically listening to himself panic.
Camus is showing how fear reduces you to the body.
“my heart would not burst after all… and I would have gained another twenty-four hours.”
Plain meaning (the punchline): He survives another day. Life becomes a simple calculation: +24 hours.
Big theme: When you’re condemned, “hope” becomes tiny: not dreams, not meaning — just more time.
One-sentence summary
He lives night by night, terrified of the sound of footsteps, and the sunrise feels like a victory because it means he’s earned _one more day_.
"'Well, so I'm going to die.' Sooner than other people will, obviously. But everybody knows life isn't worth living."
Honestly, It's an extreme sayings. And I personally not sure which side to take since, objectively, he has a point, but there are plenty of reason to rebut the last statement.
I'm suppose he meant that: Life is too risky to take it. There is huge chance you end up in hell for living life the way you think is correct, or the way it goes. Or, there is chance you lived it for nothing ---> theory of silence, empty after-life. Taking into account the life itself, which is for many means a lot of pain, anxiety, etc, it stanks to his argument. etc.
However, maybe it worth living. We don't know. At the end of the day, we don't know. It seems to me that this question will remain unasnwerable until we die and see what happens after.
"Anyway, after that, remembering Marie meant nothing to me. I wasn't interested in her dead. That seemed perfectly normal to me, since I understood very well that people would forget me when I was dead."
Technically and Factually, he is not wrong. But it's a problem I see in [Monsieur Meursault] --> he is too factual, or maybe objective. He doesn't give any chance or hope to positive world build on stereotypes, social bias, or moral compass.
'"Have you no hope at all? And do you really live with the thought that when you die, you die, and nothing re-mains?" "Yes," I said.'
-Proof to my words
According to him, human justice was nothing and divine justice was everything.
But deep in my heart I know that the most wretched among you have seen a divine face emerge from their darkness.
--> suffering can lead to faith.
“none of his certainties were worth one hair… he wasn’t even sure he was alive”
- Meursault says: your religious “certainties” are worthless compared to real, concrete life.
- He accuses the priest of living like someone already dead — meaning:
- the priest doesn’t fully live in the present world,
- he lives for an afterlife idea, not actual lived experience.
This is Meursault’s value system: real sensations, real days, real sun, real body, real time matter more than theories.
Meursault rejects religious comfort, rejects fake certainty, and reaches peace by accepting the universe’s indifference and the certainty of death.
22.01.26
I finished the book. I understood it better. I'm satisfied.
The book definitely worth reading. It gives a lot of material to process.
It's all about the absurdity of life. I don't know whether I'm aligned with philosophy of Albert yet or not.