The Stranger follows the "adventures" of Meaursault, a French-Algerian, as he tries to make his way through the Universe in a life he neither asked for, nor understands, but is doing his best to navigate. The action is muted and secondary to the motivations and thoughts of Meaursault and the revealing of Camus' philosophy.

If you haven't read anything else by Camus, you probably had to read The Stranger in high school. But now may be a good time to give it another chance. The novel falls into three parts, each marked by a death. Straightforward and simple, the novel presents its plot clearly enough, a good foil for the philosophy of the author. Camus said of this book that it portrayed "the nakedness of man when faced with the absurd" and every life is absurd. Meaursault is not what you would expect as the hero of a novel; he is just an everyday guy, perfect for the role, really, since his job is to reveal the author's version of the truths that are universal, not applicable only to a few. As an atheist, he has no preconceptions about his life or the direction it should take and is at the "mercy" of the world.

An Existentialist, Camus is not always a bundle of laughs to read, but always has interesting commentary to make about the world and the importance of accepting who you are and learning to deal with your true strengths and weaknesses. It isn't saying you should be this or that, but saying that you should just be. Don't concentrate on becoming some other person's version of success, because, after all, we're all just going to end up dead anyway. A kind of Existentialist carpe diem message for anyone who has ever felt like a stranger, and that's probably everyone. As Meaursault himself would say, "the truth shall set you free." It is a difficult read in some ways, but it will leave you changed.

I read this book in High School, in my French AP class. Our class was so enthralled by it that we decided to act it out. The fact that Camus could see into the hypocrisy of his generation...a hypocrisy that still surrounds us...it touches. The symbolism that is in every page...every situation. If only Camus could see that this book has even inspired a very popular POP SONG...KILLING AN ARAB by THE CURE.

This book was great. I had to read it for a French class and was warned that it was quite depressing. I found it depressing in some areas, but Camus has a style of writing that made me want to keep going. Meursault is not the typical hero of a book because of his seeming lack of compassion, but because of that he made the book interesting. This book, as well as La Peste, made me want to read more of Camus' works

the book is good written but the story itsselfs is a bit dull and also a bit unbelievebale but i recommend anybody to read this book for school because the book has only 77 pages!!!!!

This spare and lucid novella is one of Camus' finest. The extended monologue format is intriguing, and the fact that it was a rather nasty send-up of many of the existentialists with whom Camus had had a falling-out was especially marvelous. One is reminded of Dostoevsky's The Underground but, Camus' message is far easier to swallow. La Chute can't help but confirm Camus' brilliance as a writer.

Un libro excepecional, tanto por el argumento como por la forma en que esta escrito. Un agudo analisis de la sociedad y del hombre. Para leer varias veces. Lei un comentario en Amazon sobre este libro que decia que la historia era poco creible pero que lo recomendaba porque tenia pocas paginas. Una verdadera estupidez. ¿De donde saco este buen señor que la historia tiene que ser creible? ¿Y si la historia fuese lo de menos? ¿Se puede recomendar un libro solo porque tiene pocas paginas? ¿Es que acaso "Los demonios" de Dostoyevski, o "Los Hermanos Karamazov" no son recomendables porque tienen mas de 700 paginas?

It is, after all, about their own lives that writers write best. Here is no exception, and this book, far beyond any other recollection of childhood I have ever read, exhumes the anguish of memory. The chronicle of his past is underscored by poverty, but out of that, Camus has built a recollection of childhood that overcomes bitterness and misanthropy and finds redemption. Somehow, Camus has emerged as the completed man, the mature man, who can finally be consoled, rather than confronted, by his own past; above all, he has characterized his life as an emotional journey, and in finding solace in the destination to which he has arrived, for better or worse, he elevates those principal forces that steered his course, his mother and his childhood instructor. This is indeed, as Camus himself termed it, the novel of his maturity, and the only unfulfilling aspect of his story is that it will remain unfinished. As the story relates, however, we can always find happiness in what we have, even if it is not exactly what we wanted.

It is, after all, about their own lives that writers write best. Here is no exception, and this book, far beyond any other recollection of childhood I have ever read, exhumes the anguish of memory. The chronicle of his past is underscored by poverty, but out of that, Camus has built an evocation of childhood that overcomes bitterness and misanthropy and finds redemption. Somehow, Camus has emerged as the completed man, the mature man, who can finally be consoled, rather than confronted, by his own past; above all, he has sketched his life as an emotional journey, and in finding solace in the destination to which he has arrived, for better or worse, he elevates those principle forces that steered his course, his mother and his childhood instructor. This is indeed, as Camus himself termed it, the novel of his maturity, and the only unfulfilling aspect of his story is that it will remain unfinished. As the story relates, however, we can always find happiness in what we have, even if it is not exactly all that we wanted.

M. Camus' unmistakable style reaches its highest expression in this book. In reading this book, one gets the feeling that the man has finally discovered how to tell his whole personal story, including tears and laughter, without sacrificing precision or austerity of expression. The feeling that results is that the reader has gone back in time and met Camus himself in some cafe, and that reader and writer are each finding what Camus called "the writer's royal reward" in exchanging their stories. As happens with all "first drafts," the story sometimes gets bogged down in a sea of details or in confusion as Camus reveals too much by using the real names of characters, but these add to the personality revealed. Indeed, when the reader reaches such passages, he/she can almost see the man having to stop for a moment to laugh, cringe, or even weep at the recollection of powerful memories from home, childhood, and school. The plentiful notes by author and editor make the book an intriguing insight into the writing process, and the correspondence added at the end between Camus and the elementary school teacher he speaks of so much in the story will touch any teacher or student

"The Stranger" is a wonderful little book, filled with deceptively simple language and actions. It's understated, very subtle, and except for the outright atheist vs. church stuff at the end, you've really got to work for it. You can pick it up, read it in a night, put it down, and refuse to be affected...but if you listen, the meaning is in there, deep and dark, not didactic, more like a whisper.

The apparent indifference Mersault carries strikes one as inhuman: shrugging off his mother's death, swearing off the church, agreeing to marry in a heartbeat, and, most poignantly, accepting his fate - a death sentence. But the things Mersault is trying to say through the gaps between what's actually on the page is simple: it's all arbitrary, we're fools on a ball spinning around a star, and contentment is the simplest thing to feel amidst chaos.

Although the murder and the trial, and definitely the funeral, are fantastic moral-bending existentialist scenes, what sticks with you in the dark of night, is as simple as the prose and also as endlessly complex: we're here, we'll never understand each other, we see what's most convenient to see, and we all die in the end anyway, whether or not our tenure here can be marked as "good" or "bad" or "moral". Not the most uplifting read in the world, but literature is a cruel mistress sometimes.

This is one of my favorite books. I first read it in high school and fell in love with it. Mersault (the main character) finds himself guilty of murdering an Arab. The book soon reveals it is his lack of involvement in society that stands trial. I strongly recomend this books for those that are interested in existentialism.

A book about the "Absurd" hero... A man who can only enjoy the moment, with no thought of the future or the past, who does only what feels good at the moment... who is not ruled by the monotonous machinery of the world, who refuses to set routines... and yet becomes entangled in the impersonal machinery of society.

By the way, this book is about as un-autobiographical as is possible for a book to be. Yes, Camus grew up in Algiers and loved to swim, but he was primarily a thinker; he was utterly incapable of turning off his mind and thinking everything through. He philosophy was completely opposed to the Meursault's view of life. Yet, like me, he found in Meursault a certain honesty, of living consistently, without faking emotions and conventions. But it was ultimately against Meursault's attitude that Camus fought in his books and essays.

It is a philosophical novel, and no doubt people will be turned off by anything that challenges them, but definitely give this book a chance. It has more to say than all but a handful of books five times the length of this one. I read it almost ten years ago for school, and have read it a half dozen times since, as well as every other novel Camus wrote... those for my own enjoyment. Put aside that King book for a week and read one of the greatest books ever written.

The only real problem I have with this book was that the American edition has been abridged. Over 150 pages have been cut. As a result much of the portrait of Camus as a philosopher has been deleted. So I would recomend reading the French edition if at all possible

This book provides an interesting portrait of someone whom most would now qualify as one of the more interesting (if not most important) authors of the twentieth century. This book documents his early life (somewhat disappointingly for anyone who has read 'The First Man'-- Camus' own account) through his dallainces with careers and women to his litery triumphs.

This is a well-written and researched book, with the only negative from me that Camus comes out a lot less heroic and a lot more bitter and stereotypically hepcat and existentialist, which was a disappointment for I, who had raised him toward being a god....

A must read for anyone interested in Camus....

If you want camus' angle on his life, read the first man, if you want an outsiders opinion, oliver todd is as good as it gets. Todd is a stickler for detail which is what anyone reading a biography really wants, so it's a must read on my list

Although an accomplished and thorough book, it sometimes get bogged down in detail. However, it is a very carefully compiled and analytical book. Good selection of pictures and details of others artists in Camus' life. I enjoyed it greatly.

I think I most love this magnificent book because the chilly reception it has received mirrors the deeply ironic incivility the French elite reserved for Camus himself. One can love Camus for his words, his insight, and his passion, but I think I love him most for the fact that he was hated by idiots. It is this theme that runs throughout Lottman's wonderful biography, and it also seems to describe to an extent Lottman's own experience.

For nearly the last quarter of Camus's short life, he lived in disfavor amongst the Paris literati. And for what? Because he, virtually alone amongst French intellectuals, recognized early on the horror that was the true nature of the regime of Joseph Stalin(socialism being virtually an article of faith with the likes of Sartre and others in France at the time).

Lottman himself seems to have had a rather similar experience in his publication of this book. As he points out in his preface to this second edition, a cottage industry has evolved in France and elsewhere in Camus scholarship and criticism. However, though that body of work is deeply indebted to Lottman's research, his preeminent role is rarely acknowledged. I think this is probably because, like Camus, Lottman is an outsider. Neither man was a French native (Camus was an Algerian of mixed French-Spanish descent, Lottman is an American expatriate living in Paris) and neither is an academic by trade (Camus was a newspaper editor, novelist and a man of the theatre, while Lottman is a journalist). Thus, Lottman has seemed at times as unwelcome amongst the French elite as Camus did himself. Again the irony is too much; Lottman has received comparatively little recognition even though he himself is an extremely important cornerstone of current Camus research.

Anyway, this book for whatever reason has received little more attention here in the United States than it has gotten anywhere else, and I think that is a shame. It is a wonderful, readable book. Most importantly, it is non-judgmental and it is very deferential. By that I mean that Lottman nowehere preaches to us how we should understand Camus; as he himself says, the essence of an artist is not in his biography, but in his works. It is long, but has only that level of detail befitting an intellectual biography of this caliber.

For anyone who really wants to understand Camus's literature, a thorough understanding of his life--like Lottman's--is priceless.

This novel , more like a autobiography is great because in it he tells of certain unforgetable conversations and ideas that his mind has come up with. It just makes me want to read more of his work because now i know how he gets some of his ideas and the process he goes through in creating a grea novel. Although the notes are written in a form that is different then usual , they are great to read. I recomend it.

This book...a rather large one...is wonderful and incredibly special since it is a peek into Camus' thoughts. He wrote everything down, afraid he would not remember his thoughts. This book is especially interesting since it has some powerful sayings in it...if you are searching for a good quote to write an essay about, I recommend this book.

In his novels -- short and to the point -- Camus strove to embody a philosophy. THE REBEL, probably his best, most sustained work, talks about that philosophy at length. He takes something of the same viewpoint as Robert Lindner -- who insisted that the rebellious and protestant in man is what is best in him, not the docile and quiescent -- and explores that viewpoint exhilaratingly and totally. He also does something no modern philosopher or critic has done well, to my mind, which is give de Sade a proper shakedown. (Most intellectuals who have a flirtation with de Sade's writings and pseudo-philosophy -- not all that far removed from Ayn Rand's, come to think of it -- wind up contriving some kind of argument for the man as a martyr of intellectual freedom. Nothing could be further than the truth, and Camus makes a good case for that.) The best thing about the book is its tone -- lofty without being snooty, intellectual without being distant, and passionate without being sentimental. It's not a hard read, and it has the flavor of a conversation with a man who makes you stop and say to yourself, "Yes -- why didn't I think that before, in so many words...?"

Camus' The Rebel is the first book of his that I had the great pleasure of reading. Eloquent and enlightening, The Rebel speaks to me in a way that no other 20th century philosophical work has, at least in its entirety.

The Rebel is both an introduction of new ideas and a history of previous ideas and events: Camus' scholarship is unbelievable in the area of revolt. It spans from early greek history and earlier all the way through to the French Revolution and beyond.

I wholeheartedly recommend this book to anyone concerned with spiritual, historical, or any kind of rebellion - and really to anyone who concerns themself over the human condition.

after being introduced to camus, i have read all of his works from the fall to his notebooks. i am not a scolar and after reading this you will see a lot of words spelted wrong oh well. my review is simple it is a work of art, starting with his wise and elogent dismantling of the marquie de sade, who saw rebellion in its most nililistic form, however camus notices sade'w rejection of capital punishement. move's from sade to the revolution and on to the works by hegal, marx, and nietzsche; to name a few, there is a lot more. show's his respect for the organization for combat of the Socialist Revolutionary party. this book is and should be a manitory read for all people of all races. the principle of "nessisary but inexcusible" is the call of the rebel.

This is the story of an "average" man who gets swept up into rather unfortunate circumstances. He kills a man in self defense, but is charged with pre-meditated murder. Camus uses this discomforting tale to explore the framework of 20th century existentialism.

No doubt this is a post-modern work. The extraordinary degree of apathy demonstrated by the persona is something that reminds me of the blandness of the characters in Earnest Hemingway's "The Sun Also Rises." Nothing means anything to him. Not life. Not marriage. Not the death of his mother, and not his own execution.

Reading this book, one becomes transfixed with the horrible plight of this miserable man. We sympathize with the absurdity of it even as we shake our heads at his deplorable character and lack of judgment.

This novel is terse, but it is powerful. The power is not lost in its brevity, but rather focused in it. I would recommend that it be read alongside the short story "The Wall" by John Paul Sartre. Both are what I would call trademark works of existentialism.

The Stranger was the first novel of Camus' labeled "absurd," and it defines Camus for most Americans. The plot is quite simple, with none of the diversions common in popular literature. The main character is not a hero, has no "true" love affair and the pursuit of money and power never enters the story. The Stranger is an honest atheist, waiting for life to happen.

The title l'Etranger, has been poorly translated. The U.S. title, The Stranger, implies that the main character, Meursault, has been viewed as a "strange" or "odd" person for some time. The other possible meaning is that no one knows him. Meursault is a stranger even to those who think they know him. These definitions do not seem adequate. The U.K. title, The Outsider, only serves to confuse readers even more.

Meursault is the archetype of a middle-class man. He works as a clerk, rents an apartment and draws no attention to himself. He is, if anything, very ordinary. Meusault might even be boring. He lacks deep convictions and passion. If he is estranged from any aspect of French society, it is religion--he does not believe in the symbols and the rituals of faith.

Estranged? "Cela m'est égal."

Along with the title, Camus took care in naming the main character. Meursault's name is symbolic of the Mediteranean sea. Mer mean "sea" and soliel is French for "sun." The sea and the sun meet at the beach, where Meursault's defining actions occur.

Meusault is an anti-hero. His only redeeming quality is his honesty, no matter how absurd. In existential terms, he is "authentic" to himself. Meusault does not believe in God, but he cannot lie because he is true to himself. This inability to falsify empathy ultimately condemns him. Meursault has faith only in what he, himself, can see or experience with his other senses. He is not a philosopher, a theologian or a deep thinker. Meursault exists as he is, not trying to be anything more or less than himself.

Why did Camus' readers recognize Meursault as a plausible character? After two World Wars and much suffering, many people came to live life much as Meursault does. Or at least they tried to do so. These people lost the will to do more than exist. There was no hope and no desire. The only goal for many people was simple survival. Even then, the survival seemed empty and hollow. We learn how empty Meursault's existence is through his relationships. He is not close to his mother; we learn he does not cry at her funeral. He does not seem close to his lover, Marie Cardona. Of her, Meursault states, "To me, she was only Marie." There is no passion is Meursault's words or in his life.

What sets Camus apart from many existentialists and modern philosophers in general is his acceptance of contradiction. Yes, Camus wrote, life is absurd and death renders life meaningless--for the individual. But mankind and its societies are larger than any one individual person.

The other reviewers base their interpretation of this novel on the belief that Camus was an Existentialist and that Camus presented Meursault as a hero. Concerning the last point, nothing could be further from the truth. Before interpreting "The Stranger", one should first read Camus' essays on his own personal philosophy of "The Absurd" and how he relates it to the myth of Sisyphus. These essays reveal that Camus' personal philosophy was distinct from Existentialism in that he imagined that Sisyphus could be happy even though he was condemned to roll a huge stone up a hill in Hades only to have it roll down again on nearing the top. Similarly, Camus believed that people could be fulfilled by searching for the meaning of life even though they know they will not be able to discover it. Consequently, Meursault is not a hero in Camus' eyes because Mersault has given up trying to find meaning in his life and accepts without struggle the lack of emotion and spirit in it. In other words, don't trust everything that was written on the back cover of the american paperback edition of this novel. The back cover contained incorrect information that misled many readers, including myself, about the true meaning of this work. Read Camus' "The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays" before interpreting "The Stranger" and new meaning will become apparent from this excellent and frightening novel.

Barely more than a hundred pages, "The Fall" represents Albert Camus' ultimate foray into the recesses of psychic anguish. Jean-Baptiste Clamence, a once-respected and successful Paris barrister, sits alone in an Amsterdam bar delivering his stark monologue to an unknown listener. It is a confessional narrative, a tale in which Clamence slowly unravels the spare facts of his life, his deceptions, his inauthenticity, his bad faith.

As he sits in the dimly lit bar, Clamence makes the locus of his telling a metaphor for the narrative to follow: "We are at the heart of things here. Have you noticed that Amsterdam's concentric canals resemble the circles of hell? The middle-class hell, of course, peopled with bad dreams. When one comes from the outside, as one gradually goes throught those circles, life-and hence its crimes-becomes denser, darker. Here we are in the last circle." It is a metaphor that resonates with existential imagery, reminiscent of Sartre's claim, in "No Exit", that "hell is other people." From this grim place, Camus writes a classic of Existentialist literature, building on this metaphor, writing an extended trope of unremitting self-examination, self-doubt and anguish.

Clamence was, by all outward appearances, both a virtuous and a modest man. His courtesy was famous and beyond question. He was generous in public and private, literally exulting at the approach of a beggar. He helped the blind man cross the street and the indigent defendant secure a reduced sentence. He ended his afternoons at the café with "a brilliant improvisation in the company of several friends on the hard-heartedness of our governing class and the hypocrisy of our leaders."

But appearances give lie to the truth, for the truth in "The Fall" is that life has no meaning, that it is full of ennui, and that people act unthinkingly, inauthentically, habitually. Thus, Clamence reflects on a man he knew, a man "who gave twenty years of his life to a scatter-brained woman, sacrificing everything to her," only to realize in the end that he never loved her. How does Clamence explain this? "He had been bored, that's all, bored like most people." And from this boredom, the man married and created "a life full of complications and drama." For, as Clamence suggests, "something must happen-and that explains most human commitments."

Clamence describes himself, too, as "a double face, a charming Janus," for his motives and feelings, his very psyche, belie his outward virtue. While outwardly supporting the poor and downtrodden, he is "well aware that one can't get along without dominating or being served, [for] every man needs slaves as he needs fresh air." While known as a defender of justice, a great Parisian lawyer, his "true desire" is not "to be the most intelligent or the most generous creature on earth, but only to beat anyone [he] wanted to, to be the stronger." While professing deep love and affection for the many women in his life, he is a misogynist who "never loved any of them." As Clamence cynically suggests, "true love is exceptional, [occurring] two or three times a century more or less. The rest of the time there is vanity or boredom."

"The Fall" is a little novel that makes the reader ponder big questions, questions of meaning and existence and death, of how we live our lives and of what motivates our actions. It is, in other words, a novel that articulates the open-ended questioning characteristic of the French Existentialism of the 1940s and 1950s. But it is more than that, for it is also perhaps the finest work of one of France's greatest Twentieth Century authors, a work that deserves to be read, re-read and pondered.

Barely more than a hundred pages, "The Fall" represents Albert Camus' ultimate foray into the recesses of psychic anguish. Jean-Baptiste Clamence, a once-respected and successful Paris barrister, sits alone in an Amsterdam bar delivering his stark monologue to an unknown listener. It is a confessional narrative, a tale in which Clamence slowly unravels the spare facts of his life, his deceptions, his inauthenticity, his bad faith.

As he sits in the dimly lit bar, Clamence makes the locus of his telling a metaphor for the narrative to follow: "We are at the heart of things here. Have you noticed that Amsterdam's concentric canals resemble the circles of hell? The middle-class hell, of course, peopled with bad dreams. When one comes from the outside, as one gradually goes throught those circles, life-and hence its crimes-becomes denser, darker. Here we are in the last circle." It is a metaphor that resonates with existential imagery, reminiscent of Sartre's claim, in "No Exit", that "hell is other people." From this grim place, Camus writes a classic of Existentialist literature, building on this metaphor, writing an extended trope of unremitting self-examination, self-doubt and anguish.

Clamence was, by all outward appearances, both a virtuous and a modest man. His courtesy was famous and beyond question. He was generous in public and private, literally exulting at the approach of a beggar. He helped the blind man cross the street and the indigent defendant secure a reduced sentence. He ended his afternoons at the café with "a brilliant improvisation in the company of several friends on the hard-heartedness of our governing class and the hypocrisy of our leaders."

But appearances give lie to the truth, for the truth in "The Fall" is that life has no meaning, that it is full of ennui, and that people act unthinkingly, inauthentically, habitually. Thus, Clamence reflects on a man he knew, a man "who gave twenty years of his life to a scatter-brained woman, sacrificing everything to her," only to realize in the end that he never loved her. How does Clamence explain this? "He had been bored, that's all, bored like most people." And from this boredom, the man married and created "a life full of complications and drama." For, as Clamence suggests, "something must happen-and that explains most human commitments."

Clamence describes himself, too, as "a double face, a charming Janus," for his motives and feelings, his very psyche, belie his outward virtue. While outwardly supporting the poor and downtrodden, he is "well aware that one can't get along without dominating or being served, [for] every man needs slaves as he needs fresh air." While known as a defender of justice, a great Parisian lawyer, his "true desire" is not "to be the most intelligent or the most generous creature on earth, but only to beat anyone [he] wanted to, to be the stronger." While professing deep love and affection for the many women in his life, he is a misogynist who "never loved any of them." As Clamence cynically suggests, "true love is exceptional, [occurring] two or three times a century more or less. The rest of the time there is vanity or boredom."

"The Fall" is a little novel that makes the reader ponder big questions, questions of meaning and existence and death, of how we live our lives and of what motivates our actions. It is, in other words, a novel that articulates the open-ended questioning characteristic of the French Existentialism of the 1940s and 1950s. But it is more than that, for it is also perhaps the finest work of one of France's greatest Twentieth Century authors, a work that deserves to be read, re-read and pondered.

"The Fall" is a short, interesting and challenging novel (I suppose it might be better described as a reflective novella). In Amsterdam, the ex-lawyer Jean-Baptiste Clamence meets a fellow Frenchman in a seedy bar, and proceeds to give a account of his fall from social eminence.

The book is told in the form of a monologue by Clamence, but Camus loads it with plenty of imagery - conveying the atmosphere both of Amsterdam and of Paris. Clamence takes his acquaintance back to the time when he was a successful lawyer, then tells of his growing guilt at his self-indulgent philanthropy. Thereafter, there's a decline into moral impotence and a rejection of social and moral norms as he views his life and actions as essentially meaningless.

Much of this is pretty deep stuff, and I thought that I could give "The Fall" a second and third reading and still get a lot out of it. What was Camus's message in the novel? Well, it might be a savage critique of the veneer of altruism beneath which the wealthy operate - indeed does social snobbery rather than genuine concern truly underpin their acts of charity? Yet I felt that Camus balked at Clamence's nihilism because it was too destructive of the self and of others. Perhaps he thought that greater honesty and realism need to be tempered by/encouraged by greater humanity. Each reader will have their own take. But at least this fine book has value precisely because it provokes such thoughts.

G Rodgers