Classics and the Western Canon discussion

The Stranger begins with Meursault's startling statement about his mother's death: "Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know." Meursault is clearly not a sentimental person, but he is a very observant one. We learn more about him as he attends his mother's funeral, which he treats as an uncomfortable inconvenience, and goes about his life.

One of his neighbors, Salamano, has a dog that he abuses and apparently despises, but he is reduced to tears when the dog runs away. Another of his neighbors, Raymond Sintes, is a pimp who seems to have a similar problem: he has a prostitute who he wants to punish, but he still has sexual feelings for her. He asks Meursault to write a mean letter for him, and he agrees.

Meursault's girlfriend, Marie, asks him if he loves her. He tells her no. She asks him to marry her. He says it doesn't make any difference to him; he could marry her, or he could marry someone else. It doesn't matter.

Then there is the murder. Raymond entrusts Meursault with a gun to fire on the Arabs and Meursault realizes, " It was then that I realized that you could either shoot or not shoot." Does it make a difference either way? He seems neither angry nor afraid when he fires the gun. Camus' description of that moment is entirely physical -- one could almost argue that it was the heat of the sun that made him fire.

In the aftermath of the killing, Meursault realizes that he had been happy: "I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day, the exceptional silence of a beach where I'd been happy." He fires four more times at the lifeless body and says that "it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness."

So what do you think of this Meursault fellow?

I think that Meursault is a fascinating embodiment of existential themes, and his character raises many questions about the nature of human existence and emotional engagement. From the very beginning, his indifference to his mother’s death is shocking, and it sets the tone for the rest of the novel. Rather than displaying grief, he approaches the event with a sense of detachment that makes readers question his humanity. This initial portrayal leads us to see his actions and interactions with others as equally detached, which only deepens the layers of his character.

Take his relationship with Salamano, for instance. Salamano's emotional reaction to the loss of his dog highlights the complex and often contradictory nature of love and attachment. Even though he's cruel to the dog, his grief when it runs away shows that attachment can be intertwined with dislike. This relationship mirrors Meursault’s interactions; he seems to forge connections based on convenience rather than emotional depth. His agreement to help Raymond, despite the morally questionable implications, further reveals his disengagement from societal norms and moral judgments.

When it comes to Marie, Meursault's blunt honesty about his feelings is striking. His response to her question about love reflects his belief in the absurd nature of life—commitment and passion appear meaningless to him. This is consistent with his overall philosophy; he sees life as random and devoid of inherent meaning.

The pivotal scene of the murder is where Camus brilliantly illustrates Meursault's existential crisis. The choice between "shooting or not shooting" epitomizes the absurdity of human existence. He doesn’t seem to act out of anger or fear—rather, his action appears to be a direct response to the overwhelming heat, symbolizing how external conditions can influence our choices in profound ways.

After the killing, Meursault’s realization that he had been happy before shattering that moment is deeply ironic. His acknowledgment of happiness in the context of destruction poses critical questions about the nature of fulfillment and the ways we often overlook the serene moments in our lives. The metaphor of “knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness” encapsulates the idea that the disruption of peace is often a catalyst for self-awareness, even if it comes through violent means.

Overall, Meursault’s character challenges readers to explore the boundaries of morality and emotion in a world that often feels indifferent to human lives. His journey is a reflection of our own struggles to find meaning in life’s inherent absurdity, making him a compelling and, at times, unsettling figure.

Thomas wrote: "The Stranger begins with Meursault's startling statement about his mother's death: "Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know." Meursault is clearly not a sentimental person, but he is a v..."

Actually, in the second sentence Meursault explains why 'he does not know' -- He learned it from a telegram so it could be yesterday or today.
I have to say, to me, it's not so obvious from the beginning that he is not so sentimental person. That reveals gradually in the first chapters. First word in the book is 'Maman'. One translator mentions that it's like calling your mother 'mama' in English, not mother. I think this nuance bears some sentiment. And then at the home it is also not so obvious what is going on. He feels like he is being judged by the homers. It's more like a feeling, not just an observation (how can you observe that -- they are not jurors).
Well, I only wanted to mention that to me, from the beginning, Meursault is not a mere robot for some thought experiment, he has sentiments. Maybe not well developed yet... until the end of Part I.

I agree that Meursault is not a robot. I was tempted to relate him to the Vulcan character Spock from Star Trek, but there are important differences, especially that Spock replaces emotion with logic, while Meursault replaces sentiment with nothing at all. He does not justify, explain, or translate his experience.

I also agree that the novel unfolds gradually, not all at once.

The consensus seems to be that Camus is deliberately withholding conventional interior explanations, motivations, and emotional responses. I still wonder whether this withholding is primarily a narrative choice by Camus, or whether it reflects Meursault’s own limits or refusals as a narrator. In other words, is Camus being opaque; if so is there a purpose behind it, or is this just the mode of self report keeping in line with Meursault's character?

I’m struck by the tension between these two readings. On the one hand, it’s very tempting to see Meursault as an existential figure from the outset, especially if we read him alongside The Myth of Sisyphus. On the other hand, Bigolo’s point about slowing down feels important. So far, Meursault doesn’t explain himself philosophically. He describes. He feels discomfort, pressure, even a sense of being judged, but he doesn’t translate those experiences into meanings or beliefs.

That makes me wonder whether Part One is less about Meursault holding an absurd worldview, and more about how difficult it is for us, as readers, to tolerate a narrator who refuses to help us interpret his inner life. Are we seeing philosophy here, or are we supplying it because we’re uncomfortable with the lack of it?

I’m starting to think there may be an “absurd” relationship in The Stranger that parallels the one Camus describes in The Myth of Sisyphus. On one side is the demand for social legibility, the expectation that our inner states be made readable to others through shared cues, rituals, and emotional expressions. On the other side is epistemic honesty, the refusal to claim or perform meanings and feelings one does not genuinely experience. Social legibility helps coordination and trust, but often requires expressive affirmation. Epistemic honesty preserves truthfulness, but can render a person opaque or unsettling to others.

What I’m unsure about is the assumption behind this tension. I’m starting to think there may be an “absurd” relationship in The Stranger that parallels the one Camus describes in The Myth of Sisyphus. On one side is the demand for social legibility, the expectation that our inner states be made readable to others through shared cues, rituals, and emotional expressions. On the other side is epistemic honesty, the refusal to claim or perform meanings and feelings one does not genuinely experience. Social legibility helps coordination and trust, but often requires expressive affirmation. Epistemic honesty preserves truthfulness, but can render a person opaque or unsettling to others.

Is Camus suggesting that these two demands cannot be fully reconciled, or is he simply showing what happens when someone like Meursault leans towards one at the expense of the other or refuses to bridge them?

Regarding this “absurd” tension between social legibility and epistemic honesty, what kind of problem is it? Is Camus posing a philosophical problem about meaning and truth, a psychological one about emotion and expression, a phenomenological one about lived experience, or a social one about coordination and norms? Or is part of the difficulty that it doesn’t belong cleanly to any single category?

I found a comparison between Meursault and the narrator of our recent read of Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground was useful for clarifying the limits of each. They appear to occupy opposite ends of the spectrum between meaning and indifference.

Meursault and the Underground Man are mirror images. Dostoevsky gives us a narrator drowning in self-consciousness and moral interpretation. Camus gives us one who refuses it almost entirely. Both become socially illegible, but for opposite reasons.

One narrator cannot stop explaining himself. The other will not begin. Both exceed the capacity for comfort that social life can accommodate, but for opposite reasons.

maya ۶ৎ⋆. (matching with liv!! ♡) wrote: "Rather than displaying grief, he approaches the event with a sense of detachment that makes readers question his humanity. ."

"Detached" is a good way of describing Meursault. He acts instinctively and makes no excuses for it. He doesn't care what others think of him (with the possible exception of his boss) and he's brutally honest about his lack of feelings for others. He's an oddball, but does that make him any better or worse than others?

Salamano and Raymond Sintes act instinctively as well, but they try to justify their conflicted feelings. These feelings seem to spring from resentment; they resent that things aren't the way they want them to be. Salamano is attached to the dog that his dog used to be, but now it's old and mangy. This makes him angry and resentful, so he abuses his dog. Raymond still harbors sexual feelings for the woman he is pandering, but now that she is exercising some independence he wants to punish her. She's not the way she used to be, just like Salamano's dog.

Meursault is not conflicted in this way because he's detached. If he had feelings for his mother in the past, they don't matter anymore because she's dead. He doesn't grieve. He has sexual feelings for Marie, he doesn't call that love, even if that might hurt Marie. He may marry her or not, but he won't say he loves her when it's not true. Looking back at the Myth of Sisyphus, Camus might call this a "lucid" way of life.

David wrote: "I found a comparison between Meursault and the narrator of our recent read of Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground was useful for clarifying the limits of each. They appear to occupy op..."

That's an interesting comparison. The first difference that strikes me is that Underground Man is passionately miserable, and proud of it, while Meursault seems fairly content with his life, almost blasé. Meursault doesn't seem to care about much at all, whereas UM is a tornado of disappointment.

David wrote: "I found a comparison between Meursault and the narrator of our recent read of Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground was useful for clarifying the limits of each. They appear to occupy op..."

I was struck by this too. Unlike the narrator in Notes from Underground, Meursault's lack of ambition is curious such as when his supervisor offers a work opportunity in Paris. Meursault is content to hang with those around him, seemingly the path of least resistance.

These thoughts from Meursault stood out to me:

I even had the impression that the dead woman lying in front of them didn’t mean anything to them. But I think now that that was a false impression.

This is a clear demonstration that he does understand and read other people’s internal states, but he treats his judgments as provisional and epistemic in nature, not as emotional responses or moral verdicts.

Meursault forms an initial impression based on outward behavior, then withdraws it. The phrase false impression is important. What matters here is not the initial judgment, but the retraction. He is policing belief, not defending himself.

This is also an interesting reversal of how others will later treat him. Meursault sees behavior that does not look like caring, realizes the evidence does not warrant that conclusion, and corrects himself. In doing so, he extends to others a charity of inference.

That raises an uncomfortable question for us as readers. In the mirror Camus holds up, are we too quick to deny Meursault the very restraint in judgment that he is willing to extend to others?

Kay wrote: "Meursault's lack of ambition is curious such as when his supervisor offers a work opportunity in Paris. Meursault is content to hang with those around him, seemingly the path of least resistance."

I think you are referring to this exchange:

. . .he wanted to know how I felt about going there. I’d be able to live in Paris and to travel around for part of the year as well. “You’re young, and it seems to me it’s the kind of life that would appeal to you.” I said yes but that really it was all the same to me. Then he asked me if I wasn’t interested in a change of life. I said that people never change their lives, that in any case one life was as good as another and that I wasn’t dissatisfied with mine here at all. He looked upset. . .

A few questions are raised for me:

1. Does Meursault actively avoid the Paris opportunity, or does he simply fail to experience it as preferable?

2. Is contentment with the present, or projecting the same level of contentment onto change, necessarily the same thing as choosing the path of least resistance?

3. In this scene, is Meursault’s contentment the same thing as a lack of ambition?

4. Are we finding ambition, or a lack of it, in this scene, or reading it into the scene because we expect it to be there?

David wrote: "These thoughts from Meursault stood out to me:
I even had the impression that the dead woman lying in front of them didn’t mean anything to them. But I think now that that was a false impression...."

In the paragraph immediately preceding this, Meursault complains about his mother's friend who is crying. He says, "I wished I didn't have to listen to her anymore." A few minutes later she stops, but now it's the silence of the old people that gets on his nerves. That's when he gets the impression that "the dead woman" didn't mean anything to them.

I don't see this as restraint of judgement -- it's just the way Meursault goes with the flow. He lets his immediate circumstances dictate how he feels. The woman crying annoys him, but so does the silence. Then he goes to sleep.

Another instance of this is his indifference toward Marie. He likes Marie, but he doesn't love her, and he doesn't care whether he gets married or not. Nevertheless, when he meets Masson and sees his married lifestyle he thinks, "For the first time, I really thought I was going to get married."

And then there's the pivotal murder scene. Meursault restrains Raymond from killing the Arab out of anger or revenge -- it has to be an immediate threat. The Arabs go away, so the threat is gone. But he returns to the beach because he doesn't want to "face the women" back at the house, and besides, "To stay or to go, it amounted to the same thing." The threat reappears, but Meursault has discounted it: "As far as I was concerned, the whole thing was over, and I'd gone there without even thinking about it."

But he moves toward the Arab anyway. Why? The heat reminds him of the day his mother died. "It was this burning, which I couldn't stand anymore, that made me move forward." The Arab brandishes a knife and that, combined with the sun and the heat, causes Meursault to fire. His action appears to be based on immediate physical conditions, not an emotional impulse or a moral decision.

Thomas wrote: "I don't see this as restraint of judgement -- it's just the way Meursault goes with the flow."

I think there is an important distinction to be made between two different things happening in that scene at the home.

Meursault’s annoyance at the crying woman, the silence, the heat, the fatigue, and even the smacking noises of the old people are all matters of immediate sensory experience. Those reactions don’t require judgment. They simply register as discomfort, and the novel is full of those moments.

But moving from those observations to the conclusion that the dead woman didn’t mean anything to them is a different kind of step. That isn’t sensation anymore. It’s an inference about inner states based on outward behavior. In that sense, it’s an inferential leap, and I think the text itself acknowledges this by having Meursault almost immediately retract it as a false impression.

What struck me is that Meursault seems to recognize that he crossed a line there. He allows himself irritation and discomfort, but he doesn’t allow himself to stand by an inference once he realizes it wasn’t warranted by the evidence. That’s what makes the retraction interesting to me. It suggests not just passivity or going with the flow, but an internal discipline about what conclusions he is willing to endorse.

maya ۶ৎ⋆. (matching with liv!! ♡) wrote: "...Overall, Meursault’s character challenges readers to explore the boundaries of morality and emotion in a world that often feels indifferent to human lives. His journey is a reflection of our own struggles to find meaning in life’s inherent absurdity, making him a compelling and, at times, unsettling figure."

One reader has stated that Meursault is such a blank slate that we, readers, inevitably complement his character with our own beliefs and idiosyncracies.
Maybe that's why the readers' opinions on M's figure differ so greatly?

Bigollo wrote: "One reader has stated that Meursault is such a blank slate that we, readers, inevitably complement his character with our own beliefs and idiosyncracies."

Is Meursault a blank slate we project onto, or does Camus remove the usual emotional and interpretive cues and force us to confront how much we rely on them when judging others?

David wrote: "Bigollo wrote: "One reader has stated that Meursault is such a blank slate that we, readers, inevitably complement his character with our own beliefs and idiosyncracies."

Is Meursault a blank slat..."

Personally, I interpret Meursault to be primarily a deliberate, artistic construct by Camus designed to strip away the emotional and interpretive cues that society uses to judge human behavior, forcing us to confront our own reliance on these conventions. While Meursault's flatness allows for projection, he is more of a "stranger" (a deliberate outsider) than a true "blank slate."

Since we just read The Myth of Sisyphus, should we understand Meursault as a character living the life of the absurd man?

I also find that the characters of Salamano and Raymond offer fascinating insights into the themes of alienation and human relationships.

Salamano is an elderly man who is heavily dependent on his dog, showcasing a complex dynamic that borders on is, quite frankly, abusive. He often mistreats the dog, yet there seems to be a mutual reliance between them. This relationship reflects Salamano's own loneliness and the absurdity of life. His attachment to the dog symbolizes the craving for companionship, even in dysfunctional forms. When his dog goes missing, Salamano’s distress highlights the depth of his alienation. He is portrayed as a man who clings to the remnants of connection, even if it's marred by cruelty. What does Salamano’s treatment of his dog say about his character and his understanding of relationships?

On the other hand, Raymond Sintes embodies a more aggressive and confrontational aspect of human connection. His volatile personality and propensity for violence complicate his relationships with others, particularly his girlfriend. Raymond's need for control and dominance reflects a distorted interpretation of masculinity, showing how relationships can be built on power rather than mutual respect. His actions ultimately lead to tragic consequences, revealing the darker sides of human interaction. What do you think drives Raymond's behavior? Does he evoke sympathy, or does he symbolize the darker aspects of human nature?

Curious, what are your opinions on Salamano and Raymond? How do you think their characters contribute to the overall themes of alienation and absurdity in The Stranger? Do they prompt you to reflect on the nature of your own relationships?

David wrote: "Since we just read The Myth of Sisyphus, should we understand Meursault as a character living the life of the absurd man?"

Yes! He lives without illusions, rejecting social conventions and emotional rituals, and finds freedom in accepting the indifferent, meaningless nature of the universe. He transitions from an unconscious to a conscious, rebellious, and ultimately "happy" absurdist by the novel's end.

maya ۶ৎ⋆. (matching with liv!! ♡) wrote: "Curious, what are your opinions on Salamano and Raymond? How do you think their characters contribute to the overall themes of alienation and absurdity in The Stranger? Do they prompt you to reflect on the nature of your own relationships?"

I think they're meants as foils. There's nothing strange about them at all because they're playing roles we recognize, while Meursault is something entirely different and strange. Both Salamano and Raymond have their passions, negative as they are, while Meursault isn't really interested in anything for too long. I think they're meant to offset Meursault and show us how different he is.

I'm curious to know what you think of Marie. She doesn't judge Meursault for his inability to love her, which I think is pretty interesting.

David wrote: "Since we just read The Myth of Sisyphus, should we understand Meursault as a character living the life of the absurd man?"

This question was haunting me while I read this part: of course Mersault is lacking any transcendental beliefs, but he doesn't stand comparison with the absurd man Camus depicts in The Myth. As Mersault written in this part, he is quite hollow while you can't say this of the absurd man. Mersault is just functioning when the absurd man is actually living.

David wrote: "Since we just read The Myth of Sisyphus, should we understand Meursault as a character living the life of the absurd man?"

I've been thinking of Meursault as what Camus calls the "most absurd" character, the creator, as he tells us his story in the first person. So far he seems to be following Camus' rules for the creator:

He describes in great detail, but he doesn't explain.

For the absurd man it is not a question of explaining and solving, but of experiencing and describing. Everything begins with lucid indifference... Explanation is useless, but the sensation remains...

I want to liberate my universe of its phantoms and to people it only with flesh-and-blood truths whose presence I cannot deny... If the commandments of the absurd are not respected; if the work does not illustrate divorce and revolt, if it sacrifices to illusions and arouses hope, it ceases to be gratuitous. I can no longer detach myself from it.

His project is to express what is beyond thought, to create without appeal to an "eternal" truth. For this reason he works with the concrete, the carnal, and the ephemeral. There are no symbols that refer to a higher meaning; things are what they are, and no more.

For the same reason, the absurd work of art does not have a message or a moral; this would constitute an appeal to meaning, and this is precisely what the absurd creator is revolting against. Instead, his project is to create a world that expresses the tension of his revolt without explanation. But this is not easy.

In the creation in which the temptation to explain is the strongest, can one overcome that temptation? In the fictional world in which awareness of the real world is the keenest, can I remain faithful to the absurd without sacrificing to the desire to judge?

Camus says the absurd creator must remain aware of the "mad character" of his exercise in living. He must remain aware of its gratuitousness and its meaninglessness in the face of the temptation to accept illusion, to follow the "middle path" between the gods of light and the idols of mud to find the faces of men. I'm not sure Meursault has demonstrated this yet, but maybe it's coming up.

(Quotes from: Myth of Sisyphus, Absurd Creation "Philosophy and Fiction")

Thomas wrote: "maya ۶ৎ⋆. (matching with liv!! ♡) wrote: "Curious, what are your opinions on Salamano and Raymond? How do you think their characters contribute to the overall themes of alienation and absurdity in ..."

In my view, Marie is a fascinating character that adds depth to the exploration of absurdity and alienation. Unlike Salamano and Raymond, who are caught up in their emotional struggles and societal expectations, Marie represents a more uncomplicated form of affection and joy. Her ability to accept Meursault as he is, without judgment or expectation, highlights his existential outlook on life.

Her love for Meursault seems genuine and untainted by the complexities that plague the other characters. It's interesting how she doesn't pressure him to conform to traditional expressions of love, which further emphasizes the absurdity of human connections in the novel. In a way, Marie embodies a kind of innocence that contrasts sharply with Meursault's indifferent and detached nature.

Moreover, Marie's presence in the story raises questions about the nature of love and happiness. Despite Meursault's emotional distance, their relationship offers moments of joy and normalcy. This juxtaposition serves to reflect not only Meursault's alienation but also the absurdity of seeking meaning in a world that often doesn't offer it. I think her character definitely helps illustrate the theme of existential detachment, as she seems to accept life’s moments for what they are, much like Meursault himself, even if he lacks the ability to engage fully with those moments.

maya ۶ৎ⋆. wrote: "Her ability to accept Meursault as he is, without judgment or expectation, highlights his existential outlook on life."

That's a good point, because what we get from the book is Meursault's point of view. Marie's feelings may be stronger than they appear, but all we get through Meursault's eyes is the surface level.

For example, the only reaction we get from her when he tells her that he doesn't love her is: "She looked sad." That's all we get. Right after this is the scene where Raymond is beating a woman. Marie says it's terrible and asks Meursault to find a policeman. He won't, saying without explanation that he doesn't like cops. After the cops are gone, they go back to making lunch. We can infer that Marie is upset because she doesn't eat and then leaves, but Meursault only reports the facts. He doesn't register that she's upset. Maybe she isn't. That doesn't seem likely to me, but given the only the bare facts, we can't make that judgement.

I keep coming back to Meursault’s choice of words here:

And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness.

I can’t help but hear that line alongside Camus’s claim in The Myth of Sisyphus:

One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

Because Meursault does not articulate lucidity about the absurd, we cannot yet call him the absurd man that Camus describes in The Myth of Sisyphus. What we can say more safely is that he lives a life compatible with the absurd.

What interests me is the timing. Meursault seems to recognize only afterward that he had been happy. If happiness in Camus depends on lucidity and conscious stance, does this belated recognition open the possibility of imagining happiness going forward, or does it merely clarify what has already been lost?

David wrote: "Kay wrote: "Meursault's lack of ambition is curious such as when his supervisor offers a work opportunity in Paris. Meursault is content to hang with those around him, seemingly the path of least r..."

Thanks so much for raising these interesting questions. For your first question, I think Meursault does not see going to Paris to preferable but perhaps (although I cannot say with certainly) he seems to chose the path of 'least resistance'. Oops this term, the path of least resistance comes up in your second question. My guess it depends on one's perspective of inner life (one place is as good as another) versus outer life with the idea of bettering one's circumstances. (Dang, I keep thinking about Lonesome Dove where Gus says life is just life whether it's in Texas or in the 'desired dream' of getting to San Francisco.) In question 3, I'm not certain Meursault is content but it's just a preference again being the path of least resistance that perhaps can be mistaken for contentment. I am reading into the scene for question 4 for my guess is Meursault's boss would not have asked him to go to Paris if he were not a good employee. When he has to ask for time off to go to his Maman's funeral, there seems to be a guilt about it, at least from my interpretation, of needing the time off despite it being a perfectly acceptable request.

Kay wrote: "I'm not certain Meursault is content but it's just a preference again being the path of least resistance that perhaps can be mistaken for contentment.."

Great point. I may need to revisit contentment. If we describe Meursault’s response as taking the path of least resistance, it raises the question of what “resistance” would even look like for him in this situation. The text doesn’t show him weighing effort, risk, or sacrifice so much as failing to experience Paris as preferable at all.

For that reason, I’m inclined to think this is less about contentment or avoidance and more about indifference in valuation. Not that he is satisfied or resigned, but that the alternatives simply do not register for him as meaningfully different.

Then I fired four more times at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without leaving a trace.

Why does Meursault do this? I can only think it will hurt his case.

David wrote: "Because Meursault does not articulate lucidity about the absurd, we cannot yet call him the absurd man that Camus describes in The Myth of Sisyphus. What we can say more safely is that he lives a life compatible with the absurd."

Meursault does not seem to arrive at the absurd through a deliberative process of any kind; he is simply absurd. It's just where he finds himself, and his story is how an absurd man confronts the world. He doesn't look for permanent or stable meaning in the world, he has no need for it, and he doesn't recognize it when others act as though it is real. Meaning and purpose are social constructs or philosophical abstractions that he doesn't seem to understand at all. They mean as much to him as the man talking on the phone behind a glass partition: "you cannot hear him, but you see his incomprehensible dumb show: you wonder why he is alive." (Myth of Sisyphus, "Absurd Walls")

When I first started reading this text I was questioning if the narrator’s emotionless reactions could be due to him being neurodivergent, but I’m really interested to see how/if he evolves throughout the book.

ੈ✩‧₊˚anastasia ੈ✩‧₊˚ wrote: "When I first started reading this text I was questioning if the narrator’s emotionless reactions could be due to him being neurodivergent, but I’m really interested to see how/if he evolves through..."

That’s a very understandable early reaction. I wondered the same thing briefly myself, and in hindsight I have to smile at it, since Camus seems to catch many of us doing exactly what other characters later do to Meursault, the very move we end up criticizing them for.

Labeling Meursault as neurodivergent or assigning any clinical diagnosis is an attempt to make his behavior more legible to us, to say “ah, that explains him.” Camus seems deliberately to resist that move.

He is careful not to frame Meursault in psychological or clinical terms, and as the novel unfolds it becomes clear that Meursault does feel, perceive, think, and evaluate. What unsettles other characters and readers alike is not a lack of inner life, but his refusal to explain or translate it into the familiar terms we expect.