It’s amusing to wonder what the Wehrmacht censors thought when presented with Albert Camus’ novella The Stranger for their approval in 1942. One can imagine them getting together in a smoke-filled meeting room, looking into each other’s eyes to see if any of them had taken any particular offense (or even any particular meaning) from the book and then, with a collective shrug, approved it for lack of any better idea.
After all, a book about the world’s indifference to someone completely outside of all its rules–Nazi, Allied, Polynesian, it makes no difference–can’t be framed as a political tract or even particularly subversive.
And, in that light, they were correct. The books subversiveness is aimed at a much deeper level of existence than mere politics.
But let’s talk about the politics for a second. The Nazis–the freaking NAZIS–let it pass and yet in the post-colonial world a sequel was written where the arabic characters were given a life of their own. Talk about completely missing the point and making a fool of oneself. This is why so many post-colonial movements are derided: they put anger ahead of brains, and it shows a little too strongly.
So what does it subvert if not the social and political structure of its day, which it accepts without question?
It goes after the very core of what it means to be human. By looking at the world through the eyes of the ultimate flatliner and alienated outsider, Camus questions the botom layer of the fabric of society. Family. Friends. Lovers. The very existence of a possible connection between two individuals besides shared interests and shared pleasure.
In that sense, it’s a brilliant exercise and flinches away from the end consequences only a couple of times that I was able to spot.
Of course, it’s also a dead end. The reader is left feeling very little for the character at the end of the book. Perhaps a vague sense that it would have been a happier ending if someone had recognized his right to be different… but also that it probably wouldn’t have made all that difference after all. The nihilism is a bit contagious.
It’s also a dead end because it doesn’t really deal with the human condition except at one extreme, and that extreme, though valid as an argument–why can’t humans be allowed to live within their own moral codes–is still not a discussion (seventy five years after the book was writen) that humanity is mature enough to have. People who deviate from the social establishment (be that a small group such as an office, a medium-sized group such as a political party or a large one such as a nation-state) are treated badly and metaphorically put to death.
I’ll leave others to attempt to link this one to the modern world (try analyzing a school shooting through this lens and you’ll come up with a disturbing and different take), but I do recomend giving it a read. It’s one of those which sets the borders of human thought, and that’s always valuable.
Gustavo Bondoni is an Argetine novelist and short story writer. If you enjoy reading about outsiders, check out his novella Branch, which explores what might happen when humanity splits into distinct species.