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  Reading Albert Camus'The Stranger was a strangely unsettling yet thought-provoking experience. From the very first line, “Maman died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don't know,” Meursault's detached tone caught me off guard. His indifference toward his mother's death, his casual attitude toward Marie, and his unapologetic confession of murder felt alien, even repulsive, at first. I kept waiting for him to show remorse, to pretend grief, to act like the “normal” person society expects—but he never did. As the story unfolded, I began to see beyond Meursault's cold exterior. He is not evil; he is simply honest, refusing to perform emotions that he does not feel. The trial scene struck me the most: the court condemned him not for killing the Arab, but for not crying at his mother's funeral. That realization made me question the absurdity of societal norms—how we judge others based on superficial displays of feeling rather than actual deeds.

  2026-01-15 喜欢(0) 回复(0)