Remember how Kafka wrote that we should only read books that "bite and sting us."
Take out your benadryl.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Camus#/media/File:Albert_Camus,_gagnant_de_prix_Nobel,_portrait_en_buste,_pos%C3%A9_au_bureau,_faisant_face_%C3%A0_gauche,_cigarette_de_tabagisme.jpg
French Algeria/1942
A
current in European philosophy distinguished by its emphasis on lived
human existence. Although it had an important precursor in the Danish
theologian Soren Kierkegaard in the 1840s, its impact was fully felt
only in the mid-20th century in France and Germany: the German
philosophers Martin Heidegger and Karl Jaspers prepared some of the
ground in the 1920s and 1930s for the more influential work of
Jean-Paul Sartre and the other French existentialists including Simone
de Beauvoir, Albert Camus, and Maurice Merleau-Ponty. In terms of its
literary impact, the thought of Sartre has been the most significant,
presented in novels (notably La Nausee (Nausea), 1938) and plays (including Les Mouches (The Flies), 1943) as well as in the major philosophical work L’Etre et le neant (Being and Nothingness), 1943).
Sartrean
existentialism, as distinct from the Christian existentialism derived
from Kierkegaard, is an atheist philosophy of human freedom conceived
in terms of individual responsibility and authenticity. Its fundamental
premise that ‘existence precedes essence’, implies that we as human
beings have no given essence or nature but must forge our own values
and meanings in an inherently meaningless or absurd world of existence.
Obliged to make our own choices, we can either confront the anguish (or
Angst) of this responsibility, or evade it by claiming obedience to
some determining convention or duty, thus acting in ‘bad faith’.
Paradoxically, we are ‘condemned to be free’. Similar themes can be
found in the novels and essays of Camus; both authors felt that the
absurdity of existence could be redeemed through the individual’s
decision to become engage (‘committed’) within social and political
causes opposing fascism and imperialism. Some of the concerns of French
existentialism are echoed in English in Thom Gunn’s early collection of
poems, The Sense of Movement (1957), and in the fiction of Iris Murdoch and John Fowles. See also phenomenology. Baldick, Chris. "existentialism." The Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms, Oxford Reference, Oxford University Press, 2015, http://www.oxfordreference.com.libproxy.ocean.edu:2048/view/10.1093/ acref/9780198715443.001.0001/acref-9780198715443-e-43024. Accessed 24 Feb. 2018. A
term created by theatre critic Martin Esslin in his 1961 book, The
Theatre of the Absurd, to encompass a wide range of works produced in
the two decades after World War II which seem to dramatize Albert
Camus’ philosophical position in Le Mythe de Sisyphe (1942), translated as The Myth of Sisyphus
(2005), that life is inherently absurd. Esslin identified Samuel
Beckett, Eugene Ionesco, Jean Genet, and Arthur Adamov, later adding
Harold Pinter to the list, as authors whose work typifies what he means
by absurd. Although the work of these authors varies quite widely, it
shares in common the creation of impossible situations, wordplay, and a
pervasive but indefinable sense of menace coupled with seemingly random
explosions of violence. The absurd is closely related to the work of
the Dadaists and Surrealists; it also claims Alfred Jarry’s notion of
’pataphysics and Antonin Artaud’s Theatre of Cruelty as its precursors.
Although the term was originally conceived to describe theatrical
productions, its use has grown more general to encompass a wide range
of texts sharing the same qualities. Outside the theatre, the work of
Czech writer Franz Kafka would certainly qualify as Absurdist, as would
the work of Polish author Witold Gombrowicz. But it is not just a
literary or ‘high art’ phenomenon. Today, one could point to The Simpsons and South Park
as continuing examples of what Absurdism might mean. Certainly, Homer
Simpson’s great line ‘It’s funny because it’s true’ is utterly
Absurdist in spirit. Buchanan, Ian. "Absurdism." A Dictionary of Critical Theory, Oxford Reference, Oxford University Press, 2018, www.oxfordreference.com.libproxy.ocean.edu:2048/view/10.1093/acref/9780198794790. 001. 0001/acref-9780198794790-e-5. Accessed 25 Feb. 2018. A
term derived from the existentialism of Albert Camus, and often applied
to the modern sense of human purposelessness in a universe without
meaning or value. Many 20th-century writers of prose fiction stressed
the absurd nature of human existence: notable instances are the novels
and stories of Franz Kafka, in which the characters face alarmingly
incomprehensible predicaments. The critic Martin Esslin coined the
phrase theatre of the absurd in 1961 to refer to a number of dramatists
of the 1950s (led by Samuel Beckett and Eugene Ionesco) whose works
evoke the absurd by abandoning logical form, character, and dialogue
together with realistic illusion. The classic work of absurdist theatre
is Beckett’s En attendant Godot (Waiting for Godot,
1952), which revives some of the conventions of clowning and farce to
represent the impossibility of purposeful action and the paralysis of
human aspiration. Other dramatists associated with the theatre of the
absurd include Edward Albee, Jean Genet, Harold Pinter, and Vaclav
Havel.
Baldick, Chris. "absurd, the." The Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms, Oxford Reference, Oxford University Press, 2015, www.oxfordreference.com.libproxy.ocean.edu:2048/view/10.1093/acref/ 9780198715443.001.0001/acref-9780198715443-e-3 Oxford Reference. 2015. Accessed 25 Feb. 2018.
A
person or group of people who are perceived to be different in some
fundamental way from oneself and the group one perceives one belongs
to. Otherness refers to defining characteristics of the Other, and
othering is the process whereby otherness is mobilized to produce in-
and out-groups within society and to justify the way in which Others
are treated. For example, disabled people are often perceived and
treated differently from able-bodied people, cast as the Other on the
grounds of their impairment. Others are often defined by race,
ethnicity, gender, and sexuality.
Castree, Noel, Rob Kitchin, and Alisdair Rogers. "Other, the." A Dictionary of Human Geography,
Oxford Reference, Oxford University Press, 2013, http://www.oxfordreference.com.libproxy.ocean.edu:2048/view/10.1093/ acref/9780199599868.001.0001/acref-9780199599868-e-1343 Accessed 25 Feb. 2018 A
member of a NW African Muslim people of mixed Berber and Arab descent.
In the 8th century they conquered the Iberian peninsula, but were
finally driven out of their last stronghold in Granada at the end of
the 15th century.
In the Middle Ages, and as late as the 17th
century, the Moors were commonly supposed to be mostly black or very
dark-skinned; the name was thus sometimes used in the sense ‘a black
person’.
The name comes from Old French More, via Latin from Greek Mauros ‘inhabitant of Mauretania’
"Moor." The Oxford Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. Oxford Reference, Oxford University Press, 2005, editor Elizabeth Knowles, 2006, www.oxfordreference.com.libproxy.ocean.edu:2048/view/10.1093/ acref/9780198609810.001.0001/acref-9780198609810-e-4670. Accessed 25 Feb. 2018. Africa's
second largest country was shaped, first, by French colonial rule, and
then by an autocratic regime trying to avert the rise of Islamic
fundamentalism. The colonial era (1830–1962) Algeria's
colonization began with the French occupation of Algiers in 1830. In
1848, it was given an administrative structure to parallel that of
metropolitan France through the creation of three departements,
Algier, Oran, and Constantine. In 1882 Algeria formally
became part of metropolitan France, even though
the Algerian population
enjoyed no political or civil rights. In 1919 members of the indigenous
elite were offered full French citizenship if they renounced their
Muslim faith and customs. This was part of a general attempt to
integrate the African state into what were regarded to be superior
French culture and customs. The French colonists took possession of the
areas suitable for agrarian cultivation,
with Algerian peasants working on their farms for minimal
wages. During World War II, Algeria was ruled by the Vichy government. The successful landing of Allied troops in French North Africa in November 1942 enabled de Gaulle to set up his headquarters and the ‘Committee of National Liberation’ in Algiers on 3 June 1943. Led by Abbas, Algerian nationalists
demanded more rights, eliciting French promises (formally made in 1947)
of full Algerian participation
in the politics and government of the country. The promise was not
fulfilled, however. France was preoccupied with its own attempts at
constitutional and social renewal, and the emerging Fourth Republic in
mainland France proved too weak to impose its will upon the
conservative and intransigent French Algerian colonists. At
the same time, the French government was hindered by its inability to
rely fully on the loyalty of its military commanders in Algeria,
who often sided with the colonists. Riches, Christopher, and Jan Palmowski. From "Algeria." A Dictionary of Contemporary World History, Oxford Reference, Oxford University Press, 2016. Accessed 24 Feb. 2018 L'Etranger -- the French title -- has the connotation of the foreigner, alien, and immigrant.
People from French Algeria were called pied-noir by native born French.
Wars (aftermath and looming); economic depression
Rise of Fascism
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/7/74/Picasso
- 1914 World War I: photo essay
- 1932-3 worst years of the depression in Europe
- 1933 Hitler sworn as Chancellor of Germany; Reichstag fire
- 1937 bombing of Guernica; Picasso painting
- 1938 Germany invades Austria
- 1938 Kristallnacht
- 1939 Germany invades Czechoslovakia
- 1940 Germany invades France -- in Paris by June; Vichy France v. unoccupied France
In
Looking for The Stranger: Albert Camus and the Life of a Literary Classic, Alice Kaplan notes that since the Germans occupied France in the early 40s, the book had to be approved by a Nazi bureaucrat:
the cultural branch of the occupying forces determined the fate of
every new book by veto, by censor, or by an allocation of paper for a
few, or many copies. Books in favor of the Nazi regime or supportive of
German culture and works of propaganda got first priority. Gerhard
Heller, head of the German Propaganda-Staffel, wrote many years later
that when he received the manuscript of The Stranger from Gaston
Gallimard’s secretary, he stayed up all night reading it and endorsed
it immediately. There was no need for censorship, he said, since the
book was “asocial” and “apolitical.” What did Heller mean by asocial
and apolitical? Did he understand the book as purely philosophical? Did
he believe that Meursault’s refusal to conform to society’s conventions
had nothing to do with political resistance? Did he assume that a story
about a Frenchman killing an Arab in a colonial setting was politically
insignificant, or routine?
On its influence, she adds that
only
a year and a half after the publication of his first novel, Camus’s
book was already an obligatory reference in a special issue [of a
magazine] taking stock of the entire history of the genre: Tavernier,
the editor, mentioned Camus in the introduction, alongside Kafka, as
the best example of fiction that transforms itself in tune with
psychological structures of society. Alain Borne’s article cited Camus
as “one of the great names” of the contemporary novel.” The Stranger had arrived.
Paranoid in the USA.
When
the Oregon docked in the New York harbor on March 25, 1946, Camus was
the only passenger held for questioning by immigration officials.1 He
refused to answer any of their questions—which likely included what was
then the standard for Cold War America: “Are you now or have you ever
been a member of the Communist Party?” He was silent for several hours
until a staff member from French Cultural Services intervened and
vouched for the writer. Word of the incident reached J. Edgar Hoover,
always on the lookout for the Communist menace. Hoover ordered FBI
surveillance, and a report.2 The FBI’s major source of information was
a light-hearted article published by Hannah Arendt in the left-wing
magazine the Nation a month before Camus’s arrival in Manhattan.
In “French Existentialism,” Arendt claimed that France had become a
place where “books so difficult as to require actual thinking sell like
detective stories.” The French existentialists were having more fun
than any other intellectuals in the postwar world, and the two main
representatives of this new existentialist movement were Sartre and
Camus. After quoting Arendt at length, the report deescalated the
threat, pointing out that with the Liberation, even the
Communists in France had turned to nationalist concerns and the
reconstruction of their country.
And finally, Kaplan
provides a quick encapsulation of Camus' ability to play with the
connocations of a name: "Critics have found many meanings inside the
name Meursault: meur (death), mer (sea), mere (mother), and sol (sun)."
Characters:
what does each bring to the novel? What do they represent?
How do they comment on/explain the actions of the novel?
Maman Thomas Perez Celeste Marie Raymond Salamano The Arab
- After the cleansing of the
long rant at the priest, he thinks “I opened myself to the gentle
indifference of the world” (122).
What does he mean there?
What’s the connection b/t this statement and his rant? Between this statement and Mersault’s
being?
- Why the last line? Why does Mersault hope for a “large
crowd of spectators the day of [his] execution and that they greet [him]
with cries of hate” (123)? How does
this fit into his philosophy?
- Juxtaposition of speeches –
114-115 with 117: Why have Mersault and the Priest say much the same
thing?
- Is he a monster?
- Why do some think so?
- What is the reader led
to think?
- In what ways is he a
monster?
- In what ways is he not
a monster?
- Does jail change him? 115
- The trial
- What does a trial
symbolize? Rationality, civilization – note contrast b/t Raymond’s view
of justice and society’s. What is
the novel saying about both?
- What does this novel suggest
about criminals? How does it do
so? Remember there is both Raymond
and Mersault
- “What is on trial in the
novel, then, is far more complex than Meursault’s absurd crime and the
ensuing warped court procedure: it is the never-ending trial of the false
certitude implicit in any judgment.
With the help of the theatrical enactment of the trial, the text
pitilessly exposes the masks worn by everyone involved: Meursault, those
who represent society’s central institutions, and, ultimately, the readers
themselves, whose identities become problematic each time they come up
with a different interpretation” (Gay Crosier 96). How is this true?
- What role does religion play in this novel: consider his interrogation?
- Killed by the sun/son: cf.
opening of novel, “Maman” He’s
killed b/c he’s a son, etc.
For
an excellent review of the novel, see how well you can answer these
questions: if you can correctly answer most of them, we're in for some
fun this week. Fun is defined here as that feeling of intellectual
stimulation from books as described by Emily Dickinson "If I read a
book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only way I know it. Is there any other way?” Wear a cap. Questions from http://www3.baylor.edu/~Scott_Moore/questions/Stranger1.html
Chapter 1
- Who is the narrator?
- What is the novel's setting? what are the different settings – what do they represent?
- What can you tell about the narrator from the opening paragraphs (and pages)?
- Why does the narrator say "It's not my fault"?
- Why
does the narrator say that his mother's death will have a more
"official feel to it" after the funeral? What is "official" about that
feeling?
- Is there anything significant about the narrator's confession that he ate "at restaurant, at Celeste's, as usual"?
- How does Meursault describe his encounter with the Director? What is significant about the encounter?
- What was Meursault's life like when his mother lived with him?
- Why does Maman quit crying when she "becomes used to it" (living at the home)?
- Why does he not go to visit her at the home in Marengo?
- The
director says that Madame Meursault "often expressed to her friends her
desire for a religious burial." Her son thinks "Maman had never in her
life given a thought to religion." What is significant about this
contradiction? What does it imply?
- When Meursault first enters the room where his mother is lying in the casket, what captivates his attention?
- How was the caretaker "breathing down [his] neck" and "starting to annoy" Meursault?
- What does it mean "to keep vigil over a body"?
- Meursault keeps falling asleep (on the bus, during the vigil). Why?
- Why does Meursault think that his mother's friends came to the vigil to judge him?
- Compare the grief of the woman who claimed that Mme Meursault was her only friend with the response of Meursault.
- After
the vigil, Meursault sees that it "was going to be a beautiful day." He
could feel how much he'd "enjoy going for a walk if it hadn't been for
Maman." How should this be interpreted?
- Meursault is very observant. Why then does he miss so much? What does he not know about his mother?
- Who is Thomas Perez?
- What does Meursault not tell the reader about?
- When does Meursault experience joy?
2
- What does Meursault decide to do on Saturday morning? Why?
- Who is Marie Cardona?
- Why is Marie surprised to discover that Meursault is "in mourning"?
- What does Meursault decide to do on Sunday?
- Why doesn't Meursault like Sundays?
- When does he decide to have dinner?
- What "occurred to" Meursault before he goes to bed on Sunday night? What does this signify?
3
- What is the narrator's occupation?
- What does Emmanuel suggest to Meursault?
- Who is Celeste?
- Who is Salamano? Who does he look like?
- What
do Salamano and his dog do everyday? When Meursault sees Salamano
cursing at his dog on the stairs, what had the dog done?
- Both Celeste and Raymond say that Salamano's treatment of his dog (and vice versa) is "pitiful." Meursault disagrees. Why?
- Who is Raymond Sintes?
- Why does Meursault accept Raymond's invitation to dinner?
- Why does Raymond invite Meursault to his apartment? Are Raymond and Meursault "pals"? How do you know?
- What is Raymond's problem?
- What
evidence does Raymond have that his girlfriend is cheating on him? Is
the evidence compelling? What else does the evidence show?
- What does Meursault do for Raymond?
4
- How much time has passed by the beginning of chapter four?
Where do Marie and Meursault go on Saturday? Does Meursault love Marie? What happens in Raymond's room? - Is Meursault bothered by what has happened in Raymond's room?
What does Raymond want Meursault to do? What has happened to Salamano? - Why does Meursault think of Maman when he hears Salamano crying?
5
- What offer does Meursault's boss make to him?
- How does Meursault respond?
- What does the boss accuse Meursault of?
- When did Meursault give up his ambitions? Why? What does Marie want to do?
- How does Meursault respond?
- What does Meursault's response suggest about his beliefs concerning marriage?
- How does Meursault describe Paris?
- Does Meursault lie to Marie?
- What is significant about the woman who sits with Meursault at dinner?
- What does Salamano share with Meursault?
- Contrast Salamano with Meursault. How are they different?
6
- Explain the irony of Marie's claim that Meursault had a "funeral face."
- Where do Meursault, Raymond, and Marie go?
- Who is Masson?
- What happens when Meursault, Raymond, and Masson go for a walk on beach?
- How does Meursault describe the sun and the sand during this first walk?
- Back at Masson's house after the fight, how does Meursault explain what happened to the women?
- What happens when Raymond and Meursault approach the Arabs the second time?
- Why
does Meursault not go up into the house after they walk back? How does
Meursault describe the sun and sand as he walked alone?
- Who does Meursault meet on the beach?
- Meursault compares the sun's heat to what?
- Why does Meursault not turn around and walk away?
- As Meursault approaches, what does the Arab do?
- What blinds Meursault?
- How does Meursault respond?
- Explain this statement: "It was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness."
1
- What has happened to Meursault between Parts 1 and 2?
- Why does Meursault think his case is "pretty simple"?
- What does the lawyer question Meursault about?
- Did Meursault love his mother?
- How does Meursault explain to the lawyer how his "physical needs" relate to his "feelings"?
- Why does Meursault think that the lawyer is upset with him?
- Meursault
makes this statement about the lawyer: "He didn't understand me, and he
was sort of holding it against me. I felt the urge to reassure him that
I was like everybody else, just like everybody else." What is
significant about this statement?
- What does the magistrate want from Meursault?
- At first, what does the magistrate want to do for Meursault?
- Why does the magistrate pull out a crucifix and begin talking about God?
- According to Meursault, what was the one part of his confession that the magistrate did not understand?
- Does Meursault believe in God?
- How does the magistrate respond when Meursault answers the previous question?
- What does the magistrate think of Meursault when he doesn't cry at the sight of Christ's suffering?
- What idea can Meursault simply not get used to?
- Is Meursault sorry for what he did?
- In the months after Meursault's first encounter with the magistrate, how do their meetings proceed?
- What does the magistrate call Meursault?
2
- What "starts" after Marie's first and last visit?
- Why do Marie and Meursault have a hard time communicating during her visit?
- What are the things that Meursault "never liked to talk about"?
- How do the thoughts of a "free man" differ from those of a prisoner?
- What idea (or maxim) of Meursault's mother does he frequently reflect upon in prison?
- How does Meursault learn to kill time (in the present)?
- Meursault says that the days "ended up flowing into one another. They lost their names." What does he mean?
- What does Meursault remember the nurse at his mother's funeral saying to him?
3
- How does Meursault describe the jury?
- Meursault describes himself at the trial as "being odd man out, a kind of intruder." What does he mean?
- Why is there such a crowd for Meursault's trial?
- Who does Meursault recognize in "the shapeless mass of spectators"?
- At several points during the trial, Meursault confesses to the reader that he was getting irritated. When? Why?
- What does the director of the home testify about Meursault's behavior at his mother's funeral?
- Why does Meursault suddenly have the urge to cry now?
- When does Meursault realize that for the first time he was guilty?
- What picture of Meursault emerges from the testimony of his friends?
- What
does Meursault realize as he is being taken back to prison during that
time of day "a long time ago, I was perfectly content."
4
- According to Meursault, how do the closing speeches of his lawyer and the prosecutor differ?
- What is the "blinding clarity of the facts" of which the prosecutor speaks?
- The prosecutor judges Meursault to be "intelligent;" why does this become a damning accusation?
- According to Meursault, why does he not feel remorse for what he's done?
- Why does the prosecutor think that Meursault does not have a soul?
- What other crime does the prosecutor suggest that Meursault has committed?
- What punishment does the prosecutor ask for?
- What does Meursault say was the reason for the murder? What is the audience's response?
- What does Meursault find himself thinking about (and listening to) while his lawyer goes on and on?
- What is it that Meursault says "seized me by the throat" making him only want to return to his cell to sleep?
- Why does Meursault lie to his attorney about how grand his speech was?
- Why can Meursault not look at Marie?
- How long did the jury deliberate?
- What is the verdict? The punishment?
5
- Meursault discovers that now he only cares about one thing. What is it?
- What is the "machinery" of which Meursault speaks?
- What is the story about his father which Meursault remembers his mother telling him?
- Why does he now understand what before only disgusted him?
- What new laws does Meursault imagine would give some hope to the condemned?
- What
misconceptions about the guillotine does Meursault recognize? From the
condemned man's perspective, what are the "problems" with the
guillotine?
- How does Meursault now spend his nights?
- In
considering his appeal, Meursault reflects on the inevitability of
death. What is his argument that leads to his acceptance of the
rejection of his appeal?
- Why does the thought of a pardon bring
Meursault "delirious joy" when he has already recognized that "since
we're all going to die, it's obvious that when and how don't matter"?
- Why does Meursault refuse to see the chaplain?
- How does the chaplain respond? What does he ask Meursault?
- What kind of (other) life does Meursault confess to having wanted?
- Why does Meursault become angry with the chaplain?
- Reflect
on Meursault's verbal assault on the chaplain. What is the essence of
the message he is conveying? How does the chaplain respond?
- What is "the gentle indifference of the world"?
- What is Meursault's happiness?
Both parts from http://www3.baylor.edu/~Scott_Moore/questions/Stranger1.html
Day 1 - Trace
the trial imagery/connotations throughout the book. See, for
instance, pages ____. Why a trial? It may help to think of
our friend Ivan Ilyich.
- In a later preface, Camus wrote about Meursault that "the hero of
my book is condemned because he does not play the game." What "game"
is he avoiding? How can you tell?
- In the same preface, Camus argued that Meursault "is animated by
a passion that is deep because it is stubborn, a passion for the
absolute and for truth." What is this truth? What does Camus mean by
a "stubborn" "passion"? How does the novel show this?
- Gay Crosier writes that
What is on trial in the
novel, then, is far more complex than Meursault’s absurd crime and the
ensuing warped court procedure: it is the never-ending trial of the false
certitude implicit in any judgment.
With the help of the theatrical enactment of the trial, the text
pitilessly exposes the masks worn by everyone involved: Meursault, those
who represent society’s central institutions, and, ultimately, the readers
themselves, whose identities become problematic each time they come up
with a different interpretation” (96).
What
does "false certitude implicit in any judgment" mean? How does
the novel illustrate this? What's the mask that Meursault wears? The
institutions? Readers? Day 2 - Connect the incidents/tone/outlook in/of the novel to today. Given the definitions of Absurdism and The Absurd above, are
we living in Camus' world? Provide specifics connections: "It's
like when ____;" "It's like the show/meme/news item/political
statement/ ___."
- Why the last line? Why does Mersault hope for a “large
crowd of spectators the day of [his] execution and that they greet [him]
with cries of hate” (123)? How does
this fit into his philosophy?
- What
role does the physical environment play in Meursault's behavior?
Sun, beach, light, etc. Why have this such an intrusive
presence in the novel?
- And how about another friend of
ours, Gregor Samsa? In what ways do the tone, treatment of
antagonist, protagonist, view of work, authority, etc. seem similar to The Metamorphosis?
Late arrival In A Life Worth Living Robert Zaretsky notes that "
A moralist is not a moralizer. The latter has the answer before
he is asked the question, while the former has only questions after she
hears the available answers. And it is the questions that, as the
French say, deranger—disturb, or more literally, disarrange what has
already been arranged" (8). Is Camus a moralist or a moralizer?
Quotes please.
Preface to The Stranger by Albert Camus
January 8, 1955
I summarized The Stranger a long time ago, with a remark I admit
was highly paradoxical: "In our society any man who does not weep at his
mother's funeral runs the risk of being sentenced to death." I only meant that
the hero of my book is condemned because he does not play the game. In this
respect, he is foreign to the society in which he lives; he wanders, on the
fringe, in the suburbs of private, solitary, sensual life. And this is why some
readers have been tempted to look upon him as a piece of social wreckage. A much
more accurate idea of the character, or, at least one much closer to the
author's intentions, will emerge if one asks just how Meursault doesn't play the
game. The reply is a simple one; he refuses to lie. To lie is not only to say
what isn't true. It is also and above all, to say more than is true, and, as far
as the human heart is concerned, to express more than one feels. This is what we
all do, every day, to simplify life. He says what he is, he refuses to hide his
feelings, and immediately society feels threatened. He is asked, for example, to
say that he regrets his crime, in the approved manner. He replies that what he
feels is annoyance rather than real regret. And this shade of meaning condemns
him.
For me, therefore, Meursault is not a piece of social wreckage, but a poor
and naked man enamored of a sun that leaves no shadows. Far from being bereft of
all feeling, he is animated by a passion that is deep because it is stubborn, a
passion for the absolute and for truth. This truth is still a negative one, the
truth of what we are and what we feel, but without it no conquest of ourselves
or of the world will ever be possible.
One would therefore not be much mistaken to read The Stranger as the
story of a man who, without any heroics, agrees to die for the truth. I also
happen to say, again paradoxically, that I had tried to draw in my character the
only Christ we deserve. It will be understood, after my explanations, that I
said this with no blasphemous intent, and only with the slightly ironic
affection an artist has the right to feel for the characters he has created.
http://www3.baylor.edu/~Scott_Moore/Contemp_Philosophy/Stranger_Preface.html
Albert Camus – Banquet Speech
Albert Camus' speech at the Nobel Banquet at the City Hall
in Stockholm, December 10, 1957
(Translation)
In receiving the distinction with which your free
Academy has so
generously honoured me, my gratitude has been profound, particularly when I
consider the extent to which this recompense has surpassed my personal merits.
Every man, and for stronger reasons, every artist, wants to be recognized. So do
I. But I have not been able to learn of your decision without comparing its
repercussions to what I really am. A man almost young, rich only in his doubts
and with his work still in progress, accustomed to living in the solitude of
work or in the retreats of friendship: how would he not feel a kind of panic at
hearing the decree that transports him all of a sudden, alone and reduced to
himself, to the centre of a glaring light? And with what feelings could he
accept this honour at a time when other writers in Europe, among them the very
greatest, are condemned to silence, and even at a time when the country of his
birth is going through unending misery?
I felt that shock and inner turmoil. In order to regain peace I have had, in
short, to come to terms with a too generous fortune. And since I cannot live up
to it by merely resting on my achievement, I have found nothing to support me
but what has supported me through all my life, even in the most contrary
circumstances: the idea that I have of my art and of the role of the writer. Let
me only tell you, in a spirit of gratitude and friendship, as simply as I can,
what this idea is.
For myself, I cannot live without my art. But I have never placed it above
everything. If, on the other hand, I need it, it is because it cannot be
separated from my fellow men, and it allows me to live, such as I am, on one
level with them. It is a means of stirring the greatest number of people by
offering them a privileged picture of common joys and sufferings. It obliges the
artist not to keep himself apart; it subjects him to the most humble and the
most universal truth. And often he who has chosen the fate of the artist because
he felt himself to be different soon realizes that he can maintain neither his
art nor his difference unless he admits that he is like the others. The artist
forges himself to the others, midway between the beauty he cannot do without and
the community he cannot tear himself away from. That is why true artists scorn
nothing: they are obliged to understand rather than to judge. And if they have
to take sides in this world, they can perhaps side only with that society in
which, according to Nietzsche's great words, not the judge but the creator will
rule, whether he be a worker or an intellectual.
By the same token, the writer's role is not free from difficult duties. By
definition he cannot put himself today in the service of those who make history;
he is at the service of those who suffer it. Otherwise, he will be alone and
deprived of his art. Not all the armies of tyranny with their millions of men
will free him from his isolation, even and particularly if he falls into step
with them. But the silence of an unknown prisoner, abandoned to humiliations at
the other end of the world, is enough to draw the writer out of his exile, at
least whenever, in the midst of the privileges of freedom, he manages not to
forget that silence, and to transmit it in order to make it resound by means of
his art.
None of us is great enough for such a task. But in all circumstances of life, in
obscurity or temporary fame, cast in the irons of tyranny or for a time free to
express himself, the writer can win the heart of a living community that will
justify him, on the one condition that he will accept to the limit of his
abilities the two tasks that constitute the greatness of his craft: the service
of truth and the service of liberty. Because his task is to unite the greatest
possible number of people, his art must not compromise with lies and servitude
which, wherever they rule, breed solitude. Whatever our personal weaknesses may
be, the nobility of our craft will always be rooted in two commitments,
difficult to maintain: the refusal to lie about what one knows and the
resistance to oppression.
For more than twenty years of an insane history, hopelessly lost like all the
men of my generation in the convulsions of time, I have been supported by one
thing: by the hidden feeling that to write today was an honour because this
activity was a commitment - and a commitment not only to write. Specifically, in
view of my powers and my state of being, it was a commitment to bear, together
with all those who were living through the same history, the misery and the hope
we shared. These men, who were born at the beginning of the First World War, who
were twenty when Hitler came to power and the first revolutionary trials were
beginning, who were then confronted as a completion of their education with the
Spanish Civil War, the Second World War, the world of concentration camps, a
Europe of torture and prisons - these men must today rear their sons and create
their works in a world threatened by nuclear destruction. Nobody, I think, can
ask them to be optimists. And I even think that we should understand - without
ceasing to fight it - the error of those who in an excess of despair have
asserted their right to dishonour and have rushed into the nihilism of the era.
But the fact remains that most of us, in my country and in Europe, have refused
this nihilism and have engaged upon a quest for legitimacy. They have had to
forge for themselves an art of living in times of catastrophe in order to be
born a second time and to fight openly against the instinct of death at work in
our history.
Each generation doubtless feels called upon to reform the world. Mine knows that
it will not reform it, but its task is perhaps even greater. It consists in
preventing the world from destroying itself. Heir to a corrupt history, in which
are mingled fallen revolutions, technology gone mad, dead gods, and worn-out
ideologies, where mediocre powers can destroy all yet no longer know how to
convince, where intelligence has debased itself to become the servant of hatred
and oppression, this generation starting from its own negations has had to
re-establish, both within and without, a little of that which constitutes the
dignity of life and death. In a world threatened by disintegration, in which our
grand inquisitors run the risk of establishing forever the kingdom of death, it
knows that it should, in an insane race against the clock, restore among the
nations a peace that is not servitude, reconcile anew labour and culture, and
remake with all men the Ark of the Covenant. It is not certain that this
generation will ever be able to accomplish this immense task, but already it is
rising everywhere in the world to the double challenge of truth and liberty and,
if necessary, knows how to die for it without hate. Wherever it is found, it
deserves to be saluted and encouraged, particularly where it is sacrificing
itself. In any event, certain of your complete approval, it is to this
generation that I should like to pass on the honour that you have just given me.
At the same time, after having outlined the nobility of the writer's craft, I
should have put him in his proper place. He has no other claims but those which
he shares with his comrades in arms: vulnerable but obstinate, unjust but
impassioned for justice, doing his work without shame or pride in view of
everybody, not ceasing to be divided between sorrow and beauty, and devoted
finally to drawing from his double existence the creations that he obstinately
tries to erect in the destructive movement of history. Who after all this can
expect from him complete solutions and high morals? Truth is mysterious,
elusive, always to be conquered. Liberty is dangerous, as hard to live with as
it is elating. We must march toward these two goals, painfully but resolutely,
certain in advance of our failings on so long a road. What writer would from now
on in good conscience dare set himself up as a preacher of virture? For myself,
I must state once more that I am not of this kind. I have never been able to
renounce the light, the pleasure of being, and the freedom in which I grew up.
But although this nostalgia explains many of my errors and my faults, it has
doubtless helped me toward a better understanding of my craft. It is helping me
still to support unquestioningly all those silent men who sustain the life made
for them in the world only through memory of the return of brief and free
happiness.
Thus reduced to what I really am, to my limits and debts as well as to my
difficult creed, I feel freer, in concluding, to comment upon the extent and the
generosity of the honour you have just bestowed upon me, freer also to tell you
that I would receive it as an homage rendered to all those who, sharing in the
same fight, have not received any privilege, but have on the contrary known
misery and persecution. It remains for me to thank you from the bottom of my
heart and to make before you publicly, as a personal sign of my gratitude, the
same and ancient promise of faithfulness which every true artist repeats to
himself in silence every day.
Prior to the speech, B. Karlgren, Member of the
Royal Academy of Sciences,
addressed the French writer: "Mr. Camus - As a student of history and
literature, I address you first. I do not have the ambition and the boldness to
pronounce judgment on the character or importance of your work - critics more
competent than I have already thrown sufficient light on it. But let me assure
you that we take profound satisfaction in the fact that we are witnessing the
ninth awarding of a Nobel Prize in Literature to a Frenchman. Particularly in
our time, with its tendency to direct intellectual attention, admiration, and
imitation toward those nations who have - by virtue of their enormous material
resources - become protagonists, there remains, nevertheless, in Sweden and
elsewhere, a sufficiently large elite that does not forget, but is always
conscious of the fact that in Western culture the French spirit has for
centuries played a preponderant and leading role and continues to do so. In your
writings we find manifested to a high degree the clarity and the lucidity, the
penetration and the subtlety, the inimitable art inherent in your literary
language, all of which we admire and warmly love. We salute you as a true
representative of that wonderful French spirit."
From Nobel Lectures, Literature 1901-1967, Elsevier
Publishing Company, Amsterdam
http://www.nobel.se/literature/laureates/1957/camus-speech-e.html
"Lost in Translation: What the First Line of “The Stranger” Should Be." The New Yorker. By Ryan Bloom, May 11, 2012
First page in French https://images.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.edition-originale.com%2Fmedia%2Fh-1200-camus_albert_letranger_1942_edition-originale_autographe_6_44182.jpg&f=1 Early 20th century French Algeriahttps://images.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-nYnIs0fIRoQ%2FTZOewIcUhfI%2FAAAAAAAAD2o%2F-bsYEs6hp2c%2Fs1600%2FAlgeria1a%2Bcopy.jpg&f=1 https://images.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Fassets.catawiki.nl%2Fassets%2F2017%2F11%2F14%2F9%2F5%2F8%2F95830ef9-4995-4485-b199-7faece6d4c04.jpg&f=1
Jay, Martin. "A History of Alienation." Aeon, https://aeon.co/essays/in-the-1950s-everybody-cool-was-a-little-alienated-what-changed. Accessed 19 March 2018.
Jordison, Sam. "In or Outsider? Camus and Algeria." The Guardian, 19 Nov. 2013, accessed 5 Jan. 2020.
copyright 2010 David Bordelon
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