Stranac by Albert Kami, , available at Book Depository with free delivery worldwide.
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Actually, many books are cited in “The Perks of being a Wallflower”but “The Stranger” is kani book that intrigued more the protagonist and ablert. Meursault is a modest employee of French extraction who lives in Algiers. He lives his daily routine with indifference, unable to openly manifest even the simplest emotions. And it is with apathy that. And it is with apathy that he learns the news of the death of his mother, who lived her last years in a hospice.
Goodreads helps you keep track of books you want to read. Want to Read saving…. Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Refresh and try again. Open Preview See a Problem? Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Slbert Page. Preview — The Stranger by Albert Camus. The Stranger by Albert Camus. Through the story of an ordinary man unwittingly drawn into a senseless murder on an Algerian beach, Camus explored what he termed “the nakedness of man faced with the absurd.
Paperbackpages. Published March 28th by Vintage International first published To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. To ask other readers questions about The Strangerplease sign up.
Mariam Mansuryan I think you are misinterpreting the book. Meursault is not a bad character at all, he is just honest.
Stranac : Albert Kami :
And how bad is the society that it thinks …more I think you are misinterpreting the book. And how bad is the society that it thinks everyone has to cry at their mothers’ funerals just because that is the custom. Why do they think they know how you have to react? See all 38 questions about The Stranger…. Lists with This Book. Jun 28, Trevor rated it really liked it Shelves: It is the absurdity of human conventions that has us doing such things.
For the last thirty years I have studiously avoided reading this book. In high school friends one of them even became my ex-wife told me it was a great book about a man condemned to die because he was an outsider. Later I was told that this book was a story about something much like the Azaria Chamberlain case.
But after 30 years of avoiding reading this book I have finally relented and read it. I particularly liked the man who kept falling behind in the march to the cemetery and would take short cuts. Okay, so it is black humour, but Camus was more or less French — so black humour is more or less obligatory. I had gotten the distinct impression from all of my previous discussions about this book that the guy ends up dead.
In fact, this is not the case — he ends up at the point in his life where he has no idea if he will be freed or not. The Priest who comes to him at the end is actually quite certain that he will be freed.
Jami most interesting part of the book to me was the very end, the conversation with the priest.
I am definitely not the same kind of Atheist as Camus. To Camus there is no truth, the world is essentially absurd and all that exists is the relative truth an individual places on events and ideas. This makes the conversation with the priest fascinatingly interesting. To the priest the prisoner who is facing death is — by necessity — someone who is interested in God.
Not this little black duck. Now, if Syranac was in that cell I would have argued with the priest too — but I would not have argued in the same way that Meursault argues. Now, this is a reasonable response. What is very interesting is that the priest cannot accept this as an answer. The world is not allowed to have such a person in it — if such a person really did exist then it would be a fundamental challenge to the core beliefs of the priest. So, he has to assume Meursault is either lying to him or is trying to taunt him.
And look, yes, there is much to this — but this ends up being too easy. So, what can I say? kamii
Stranac : Srpske Knjige
View all comments. May 22, Ryan R rated it it was amazing Shelves: The book is simply written and a rather quick read, but the depth Camus manages to convey through this simplicity is astounding. I think a problem a lot of people have with this book is that they fail to look beyond the whole “what is the meaning of life” message.
While an interesting question, the book raises so many other philosophical questions beyond this. What I found the most interesting of these is “what truly defines humanity or makes someone human? He is most definitely human though, just rather detached. This raises the question of whether one should be expected to exhibit certain characteristics in certain situations to “keep their humanity”.
Also it raises the question of whether much of our emotion is created by ourselves or the expectations of others to exhibit certain emotions in a given sitatuion. The book is also an indictment on people’s efforts to dictate other people’s lives. We are constantly told what is right and as a means to justify our own sense of “what it means to be human”.
We often impose these characteristics upon others, expecting them to fulfill similar traits and characteristics, as they have been already imposed on us. It is in a way, a self-justification of our actions as right or “humanly”.
Once he doesn’t conform to these measures, he is marginalized and called “inhuman”; this is an attempt on the part of the others to rationalize their own ways of life and understandings. If they manage to declare him “inhuman”, it allows them to call themselves human and justify their own means of living. In the end, this book is one that raises many more questions than it answers, but in true philosophical fashion, they are really questions without answers.
View all 23 comments. Here are the opening lines: The telegram from the Home says: Still, I had an stranaac he looked annoyed, and I said, without thinking: This is the only time at the Home Meursault actually asks for something. And true to form as archetypal keeper, the answer is standard binary, that is, all or nothing, black or white, on kaji off; certainly not even considering engaging in a creative solution on behalf of Meursault, who, after all, is the son.
I felt the first waves of heat lapping my back, and my dark suit made things worse. We as given laser-sharp glimpses of various facets of our enigmatic first-person narrator as he moves through his everyday routine in the following days and evenings, routine, that straanc, until the unforgettable scene with the Arab on the beach, one of the most famous scenes in all of modern literature.
After all, there was still some distance between us. Perhaps because of the shadow on his face, he seemed to be grinning at me. The heat was beginning to scorch my cheeks; beads of alberf were gathered in my eyebrows. But I took that step, just one step, forward. And then the Arab drew his knife and held it up toward me, athwart the sunlight. A shaft of light shot upward from the steel, and I felt as if a long, thin blade transfixed my forehead.
At the same moment all the sweat that had accumulated in my eyebrows splashed down on my eyelids, covering them with a warm film of of moisture. Beneath a veil of brine and tears my eyes were blinded; I was conscious only of the cymbals of the sun clashing on my skull, and, less distinctly, of the keen blade of light flashing up from the knife, scarring my eyelashes, and gouging into my eyeballs.
Then everything began to reel before my eyes, a fiery gust came from the sea, kaami the sky cracked in two, from end to end, and a great sheet of flame poured down through the rift. Every nerve in my body was a steel spring, and my grip closed on the revolver. The trigger gave, and the smooth underbelly of the butt jogged my stranca.
Rather, my suggestion is to read and reread this slim novel as carefully and attentively as possible. That, no doubt, explained the odd impression I had of being de trop here, a sort alber gate-crasher. How many times in life have you felt out-of-place entering a room? Have kamk ever albery yourself a stranger to stranqc around you?
Perhaps our modern world can be seen as Albbert Strangerthus making each and every one of us strangers. I would not be surprised if Albert Camus read this prose poem by Charles Baudelaire: Your father, your mother, your sister, or your brother?
View all 67 comments. View all 35 comments. Aujourd’hui, maman est morte. View all 25 comments. If You Exist “The Stranger” dramatises the kaami at the heart of existentialism.
The same issues are probably at the heart of life, whether or not you believe in a god. Being Judged It’s interesting that there has been a crime and now Meursault is being “judged”.