Strange Shifts

This novel was an experience unlike any other, and its writing style played a monumental role in this effect.

PART 1
This section of the novel is characterized by a simple, detached, and straightforward style, which fittingly portrays Monsieur Meursault’s indifference to everything and everyone around him. Whether describing events, people, or emotions, he does so without depth or personal insight, treating life as a series of tasks rather than meaningful experiences. Meursault seems to go through the motions of societal expectations, viewing them as a checklist he needs to mark off to pass as “normal” for the day. He’s agreeable with everyone, even if they find his lifestyle unorthodox, suggesting a people-pleasing aspect of his personality.
One vivid example of his detachment comes when he learns of his mother’s death:
"Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don’t know."
Here, his reaction is emotionless, and later, he attends the funeral with almost mechanical precision. He borrows the appropriate attire, attends the service, and takes bereavement leave, noting that his employer might think he’s taking advantage of the time off. During the funeral itself, rather than reflecting on his mother’s life or experiencing grief, he fixates on sensory details, like the heat.
This indifferent attitude extends to his relationship with Marie. When she asks if he loves her, he replies:
“I told her it didn’t mean anything, but that I didn’t think so.”
His response is terse and unemotional, as if treating emotions as irrelevant. This simplicity and detachment in Part 1's writing style showcase Meursault’s emotional indifference toward life’s conventional expectations.

PART 2
Here, Meursault shifts to a more introspective tone, using longer, more complex sentences that show his growing self-awareness and forced confrontation with societal expectations. For example, when he realizes that people believe him guilty and hate him for the crime he committed:
“For the first time in years, I had this stupid urge to cry, because I could feel how much all these people hated me.”
Yet, even in this section, he remains largely detached from the values by which he is judged. While society expects him to show remorse and guilt, he doesn’t respond as they anticipate. In Part 1, his disregard for social norms seems unintentional, but now he is almost actively defying these expectations, finding them trivial. The trial is ultimately more about condemning his inability to conform to social norms—his indifference at his mother’s funeral, his emotional detachment—than the actual crime.
As he faces the inevitability of death, Meursault’s thoughts shift from simple observations to more abstract ideas, highlighting Camus’ existential philosophy:
“Since we’re all going to die, it’s obvious that when and how don’t matter.”
This shift reveals a subtle character development in Meursault and encapsulates Camus’ concept of the "absurd man." By the end, he embraces the absurdity of life, acknowledging that humans try to impose meaning on an inherently meaningless universe and that our moral expectations are unfounded.

FINAL THOUGHTS
Ultimately, this transition—from the life of a man who lives with a childlike neutrality in the present to his trial and impending death—is demonstrated through a profound shift in language and structure that highlights Camus’ message. The novel’s progression mirrors Meursault’s journey from passive acceptance to active awareness of life’s absurdity, making The Stranger a powerful exploration of existential philosophy.

Comments

  1. I agree that Meursault only becomes "philosophical" at the very end of the novel--he is almost "provoked" into articulating a philosophy of life by the priest, who offers him metaphysical salvation and manages to trigger a deep wellspring of anger and rage. There are subtle shifts in narrative voice between the two parts of the novel, as you explain, but there's a very *dramatic* shift in tone in the final three or four pages. Meursault's fit of rage, interestingly, is not presented as dialogue but as summarized/reported dialogue in the narrator's voice--but this is a narrator who seems totally unrecognizable from the cool detached dude on the balcony in part 1. He is screaming in a priest's face while gripping his cassock at the collar--a powerful visual image to contemplate--and he says things in this passage that are quite different from anything he has said up to this point. His "active awareness of life's absurdity" (and his ACCEPTANCE of that state of affairs) at the very end (post-outburst) is framed as a product or result of his fit of rage. We might say that he gains absurdist philosophical consciousness only in the final two pages of the novel.

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  2. I like to think of The Stranger as Mersault's "transition" into being a fully absurd man. While he seems largely emotionless and irrational for the first section of the book, he still exhibits emotion during his trial, which you pointed out with the quote about crying. There are still little snippets of emotions bubbling inside Mersault during the novel, another one being when he finally snaps and starts yelling at the priest. That sentence at the very end of the book: "As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world" for me, marks Mersault's full embracing of absurdity. That "rid me of hope" symbolizes the last bits of emotion and rationality leaving Mersault, and he finally achieves solace as he submits to the irrationality of the universe.

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  3. Your point about how the writing style, and different sections of the book, influence the description of Meursault as a character is important to the novel. I think it's especially notable how much his narration shifts while he's in prison. From a reserved, unemotional man to someone that is processing the idea of his own death. In the final pages we see just how much he shifts as a character.

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