The Stranger: Part 1, Chapter 5
TGC Blog | May 22, 2012
**********
Plot summary: Like the preceding chapter, this one continues to tell the story of Meursault's routines and relationships. In view of what happens in the next chapter, this unit is the lull before the storm, but as we experience the unfolding action we have no way of knowing. The chapter unfolds in four main phases: (1) Meursault's morning at work, (2) Marie's visit in the evening, (3) supper at Céleste's restaurant, and (4) a pre-bedtime conversation with Salamano.
A Word about Reading
I will arrange my commentary according to the succession of four units noted above. Before I start my journey through chapter five, though, I want to say something about the dynamics of reading a novel. We owe it to a great writer to assume that he or she has a master plan. It is our task as readers to discover that plan. Reading a story is akin to solving a riddle. This will be clearer if we scrutinize a story with the conviction that the author has arranged the data for a precise purpose. I fully expect that some of you will resist the idea of reading as being akin to figuring out a riddle, but I have found it a useful strategy and one that enhances my sense of adventure as I read.
In the same vein, I will commend a theory of Camus's intellectual and literary confidant Jean-Paul Sartre. It is perhaps surprising that a philosopher could have written one of the best short treatises of literary theory in What Is Literature? (trans. Bernard Frechtman; Harper and Row, 1949). Sartre claimed that readers collaborate with an author to produce a work of literature. Reading is directed creation in the sense that the words on the page are the means by which readers invent the work that the author intends. Applying this to the sequence of four units in chapter five, we can view ourselves as assembling the details and their sequence along with Camus, in the process reaching certain conclusions about what is happening in the chapter.
Meursault's Morning in the Office
In an earlier posting I labeled The Stranger a novel of ideas. But the type of truth that literature and the other art are particularly adept at conveying is truthfulness to reality and human experience. This, in turn, yields knowledge in the form of right seeing---getting us to see ourselves and life around us accurately. The classical tradition has championed the idea that the writer "holds the mirror up to life."
We can apply this to the opening paragraphs of chapter five. Most of us have received a personal telephone call while at work and felt our employer or superintendent's disapproval. Most of us know what it is like to have our employer call us into his or her office to discuss a new job opportunity. All of us have felt the sting when we do not respond warmly to what someone else wants us to embrace enthusiastically.
It's harder for us to relate to two other dimensions of Meursault's morning in the office. One is the exchange with Raymond, and it, in turn, has two phases to it. The first is Raymond's invitation to Meursault (which also extends include Marie) to spend the weekend with him on the seaside. Considerably more ominous is Raymond's announcement that he has been stalked by Arab friends, as well as a brother of the mistress whom he abused. On a first reading we have no way of knowing how momentous these two things will be in the story.
More important is the exchange between Meursault and his employer. The offer for Meursault to accept a post in Paris represents opportunity for professional advancement. In a reply that shocks us as much as it shocks the employer, Meursault states that "it was all the same to me" (Ward translation; Stuart Gilbert translation: "I didn't care much one way or the other"). This refusal is then generalized into the sentiment that "one life was as good as another." The conventionally minded employer interprets this as an appalling lack of ambition.
For reflection or discussion: We can begin at the level of truthfulness to everyday reality: how does your life at work compare to Meursault's morning? Second, while we can tuck Raymond's call away in our minds for future reference, Meursault's exchange with his employer is a major event in the novel. How do you assimilate Meursault's rejection of a good job offer and his viewpoint that one life is as good as another? How does this event add to the unfolding portrait of Meursault?
The Most Unusual Proposal of Marriage on Record?
The second scenario in chapter five is Marie's visit to Meursault on the evening of the same day. The primary point of conversation concerns love and marriage. Marie asks Meursault "if I wanted to marry her." Meursault replies famously that "it didn't make any difference to me and that we could if she wanted to" (Ward translation; Gilbert translation: "I said I didn't mind; if she was keen on it, we'd get married"). Further conversation on the subject simply repeats that core idea. Particularly striking, though, is Marie's comment that "marriage was a serious thing," followed by Meursault's reply, "No."
Various strands of the novel converge in this conversation: Meursault's indifference to life, his emotional deficiency, and his inability to attribute human meaning to experience. Meursault cannot generalize from his momentary sensory pleasure with Marie to a permanent emotion called love.
For reflection or discussion: I have refrained from calling Meursault an absurdist hero in this episode, but reflecting on this label helps us closely assess his behavior in this episode. Additionally, we can profitably go through the experience from Marie's point of view. What evidences suggests that Marie is as perplexed and exasperated by Meursault's behavior as we are?
Dinner at Céleste's
The third scenario in this chapter is the oddest bit of invention in the novel thus far. Its focus is "a strange little woman" who asks to share Meursault's table at the restaurant. The highly particularized list of details regarding the woman's appearance and behavior is explicable only if we grant the premises of literary realism. The literary realist is bent on recording the random details of everyday life. If we ask what claim these random details have on us, the literary realist (in this case Camus) would base his or her answer on the principle known as verisimilitude ("lifelikeness"). If it happens in real life, the writer of realism claims, it should interest us.
The episode is so loaded with particularized details that we might initially be inclined to think there is no universal human experience here. But that is always a risky thing to assume about literature. Coming through all of the details in this episode is a very universal experience, namely, eccentricity of character. Anyone who doubts it needs to take a trip to the local fast food restaurant.
For reflection or discussion: The self-imposed task of good practitioners of literary realism is to make the mundane so striking that it will interest the reader. Does Camus succeed with you in this brief episode? We can also ponder how the last sentence of the episode provides an interpretive framework: "I thought about how peculiar she was but forgot her a few minutes later."
A Man and His Dog
Surprisingly, Maursault's interaction with his neighbor Salamano gets the most space in the chapter. Predictably, the point of entry for the conversation is Salamano's still-lost dog. That telescopes into a history of how Salamano came to possess the dog in the first place, and by a logic all its own yields a brief biography of Salamano, including his marital history. Salamano becomes an even more sympathetic figure in our imagination than with his grief over his lost dog in the previous chapter.
Then a chain of connections unfolds as it often does in real life. Salamano tells Meursault that his mother was fond of the dog. With the mother now introduced into the conversation, Salamano naturally offers his condolences. Meursault remains silent. Then we get a major piece of foreshadowing, though on a first reading we have no way of knowing it. Salamano offers the information that people in the neighborhood had "said nasty things about" Meursault (Gilbert translation) because he sent his mother to "the home." Characteristically, Meursault is surprised that people would speak ill of him regarding his mother. Equally telling is the detail that for years Meursault's mother "never had a word to say to me" (Gilbert translation).
For reflection or discussion: On a first reading, we have no way of knowing that the exchange with Salamano is the last evening of normal life for Meursault. If we grant the premise that these two or three pages draw a boundary around Meursault's regular life, what are the keynotes? One of my standard test formats is to print a passage and ask my students to generalize about how the passage epitomizes or typifies the specific author or work from which the passage has been taken; how does the concluding unit dealing with Salamano and Meursault epitomize the novel up to this point?
Comments:
May 27, 2012 at 03:18 AM
Not too much to say about this chapter.
Two small points:
1. Like Jeremy, I also had some reaction to th statement about his having lost his studies. However, my initial thought was that he "had to give them up" because of his lack of ambition and in my mind I initially saw Mersault's sloth and lack of ambition as a cause rather than a result here. Also, I am cautious about taking his interpretations of events as being accurate.
2. Second was just the contrast between Salamano's love for his dog after losing him, versus Mersualt's indifference to his mother.
May 26, 2012 at 07:21 AM
These sentences as Meursault reflects on upsetting his boss really stood out to me.
"I'd rather not have upset him, but I couldn't see any reason for changing my life. Come to think of it, I wasn't unhappy. When I was a student, I had plenty of that sort of ambition. But when I had to give up my studies, I very soon realized that none of it really mattered."
One could look at giving up his studies as the catalyst for Meursault's "whatever" outlook. If he had been able to continue studying, maybe he would have kept his ambition. Maybe his mother would have been proud of him. Maybe he could have afforded to keep her with him, and wouldn't have felt she was a burden. I know many people who trace back their misery to one mistake or missed opportunity and never get past it. This can turn to self-pity or into sour grapes. In Meursault's case, it's sour grapes.
Meursault's statement that "one life was as good as another" doesn't ring true in the real world. It nearly rings true in Camus's made-up world of "The Stranger," because most of the characters are described bleakly. However it is belied by what we hear of Meursault's mother who found friendship and maybe even love at the old folks' home. Marie is another interesting counter-example. If Camus had taken this book in a different direction, Marie could have redeemed Meursault.
May 25, 2012 at 11:20 AM
Dr. Ryken,
Hearing of your "Commending the Classics" I found an online copy of "The Stranger" and read most of the first chapter until losing interest. Finding the book rather dark I chose to forgo this great opportunity. But then visiting this blog and beginning to read some of your previous posts, I became fascinated. Thank you so much for taking us through this book, for teaching us, and hopefully expanding our understanding to profit.
I have now caught up on the reading through chapter six, and am waiting expectantly for the next post, and have read more than once all of your previous posts. You are an excellent teacher and I a grateful student.
Appreciated your words above where you wrote:
"We owe it to a great writer to assume that he or she has a master plan. It is our task as readers to discover that plan. Reading a story is akin to solving a riddle. This will be clearer if we scrutinize a story with the conviction that the author has arranged the data for a precise purpose."
May 23, 2012 at 08:56 AM
Thank you, Dr. Ryken, for guiding us through The Stranger. This book is new to me, and I'm thoroughly enjoying reading it. I also look forward to your weekly comments. I hope this process continues with more books in the future.
For now, I'm curious to know if/how you might apply Sartre's literary theory to the reading of Scripture. If it can be applied to one book, can it be applied to all even though God's Word is unique among all literature? The concept of "directed creation" rings true to me as it seems God is creating anew (or re-creating/renewal) within me as I read His Word.
June 5, 2012 at 09:23 PM
I do think you are right to say that Camus is a missionary. Meursault is a Christ-figure, and he is offered to us by Camus for our redemption.
June 5, 2012 at 09:16 PM
Heather, my guess is that Camus has given us someone whom he considers consistent, a purist. Camus has tried to make what Meursault reasons and does match what Meursault believes. But as you said, that is pure fiction. We don't meet people on the street like that. No existentialist can actually live that way. There are too many things conspiring against him. The lust for glory, desires of the flesh, power-hunger, and also God-given conscience within and the undeniable witness of the created world without --- all conspire to create the dilemma and make him inconsistent. Those that reject truth must excuse themselves when accused. Above all, man is a creature made for worship --- and men outside of fiction will bow somewhere before something, even if it is chaos or nothingness.
June 5, 2012 at 05:58 AM
Annaa,
It sure is fascinating to try to figure out Camus' motives. I cannot help but to continually try to enter his mind and his 'plan for this book'. He surely had an outline and a definite idea of how he would lead the reader and manipulate him, so to speak. To what end or purpose? I suppose to evangelize for his world-view/ religion.
I wonder if Camus revealed his motives anywhere, either in writing, conversation, or an interview? Can anyone shed light on whether he had done so?
June 5, 2012 at 04:44 PM
Yes, I do think both of those passages speak to my question. I should have said, but for the grace of God, it's amazing that more unbelievers aren't like that. :-)
Thanks for the verses.
June 5, 2012 at 04:18 PM
Heather, That's a good question. Made me think. From observation and experience even unbelievers can say "that's good" or "that's bad", even "That must be punished." Perhaps even, "I feel guilt over that."
Do you think Rom 1:19 speaks to that:
Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them.
And also Romans 2:14-15:
For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto themselves: 15Which shew the work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing or else excusing one another;)
June 5, 2012 at 04:05 PM
I thought I read the comments faithfully, but I could have missed it...did anyone mention whether Salamo and Meursault are supposed to be purposefully contrasted? One experiences grief for the loss of a "loved one" and the other doesn't seem to even understand emotion?
I'm not sure Meursault is any less redeemable than anyone else, but he is definitely NOT a sympathetic character. It surprises me that more unbelievers aren't like this. If there isn't a God, why do things like "love" and "loss" and even a job promotion matter? One life really is as good as another.
June 4, 2012 at 10:00 PM
Luma, I was thinking of your post this morning when a verse came to my attention --- Jeremiah 15:17d. God fills His people with indignation. It seems to me that Camus has given us a fool (Psalm 53:1) with an impenitent heart. Camus has made him irredeemable. He is not flesh and blood. I'm with you --- let's call our disgust righteous indignation and put our hearts at rest.
June 3, 2012 at 10:12 PM
Luma, I think you and I are right where Camus wants us. I believe Camus would have a wry smile if he read your post. He has given us someone to despise, and then he will move to accuse us. He has leveled the finger at you and me, while he is positioning himself to get away scot free. We don't have to fall for it.
June 3, 2012 at 10:02 PM
Jeremy, I noticed that too. He is subtly shifting the blame. He wants the fruit and makes his leaf loincloth, while denying the existence of the apple and his stark nakedness, to say nothing of the One watching.
June 3, 2012 at 02:12 PM
When Meursault showed surprise at Salamano's comment that some of the people in the street said nasty things about him because he’d sent his mother to the Home, it came to mind the words of Christ in John 15:18-19. Christ said that we should not marvel if the world hate us on account of Him. Camus has his parallel here. He is probing and questioning us, leading us to animosity and then accusing us of hating a man merely because he believes nothing, hopes nothing, loves nothing.
June 3, 2012 at 01:22 PM
I think of the effort that the Greek philosophers went to develop the realm of the soul and separate it from the material realm. Plato portrayed Socrates as able to embrace death because he had detached himself from this life. Socrates will reach the realm of essence because he has overcome the snares of this life through contemplation. He has dutifully invested in the realm of the soul. Yet it seems Camus tries to do one better. He dismisses essence and contemplation and even the faculty enabling contemplation in his protagonist Meursault. Deny the existence of any other realm than the natural, and you have the robot Meursault. Meursault does not need to detach. To detach, one must attach. Camus' man has no loves, no passions, no ambitions. I wonder what Socrates would ask Meursault if he showed up in Athens's agora? Socrates could not bring Meursault to define what Meursault does not believe exists.
It strikes me that Meursault's lusts are uniquely passive. Passive lust does not produce guilt. Meursault responds; he doesn't initiate. Raymond initiates their friendship and continues it with calls and arranged meetings. Marie asks him to marry her. Salamano comes in and talks because Meursault "ran into him." Meursault seems an ancient Greek anyway --- I see the Fate sisters nipping at his heels. If he looked behind him, he might see them but probably wouldn't recognize them. He would likely describe them though, and then he would forget them.
Luma
May 28, 2012 at 12:19 AM
Dr. Ryken, (no great literary insight here) I just want to tell you that I am utterly frustrated and deflated by Meursault's indifference and complete lack of emotion. Is it okay for me to say that he disgusts me? I almost feel like he's worse than Raymond. Except that I feel bad saying that because I know we're all sinners. It's the weirdest thing but I can almost see a character like Raymond being a lot more redeemable than Meursault. Am I being graceless to think that?
I may be frustrated, but I like the book. Thank you for the work you put into this every week.