Camus, The Stranger


I’ve read this book a couple of times. I read it as a teenager and really liked it. Once on a camping trip with the Girl Scouts, a fellow scout had a copy that she was reading for her AP English class. On the car ride home, she ended up reading the entire back section of the book out loud to us, as we drove home in the dark. It was a special and moving experience. I read it again a few months ago in French, sitting on my balcony in the summer. It’s a pretty easy read if anyone else is as bad at French as I am. I was thinking I was going to find it stupid the third time. I read The Alchemist in French a few years ago, and was reminded that that is one of the most idiotic books of all time. But reading The Stranger this time, I was struck by how sad it was. I think when I was a teenager, I was confused and thought that he didn’t care about his mother.