"the stranger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cliff Notes)

Many readers have pointed out how difficult it is for Meursault to respond to a question with more than a few words. His brief responses to the magistrate's questions are almost childlike. As you read, ask yourself how Meursault's vocabulary and syntax contribute to the sense of alienation that is one of the novel's major themes.

What effect does Meursault's silence have on the magistrate? Remember, during their first interview, that Meursault thought the magistrate seemed like an "intelligent man." Now, this previously reasonable person takes a crucifix out of a filing cabinet and waves it in Meursault's face. (Recall how the Arab displayed his knife to Meursault when they were alone on the beach.) He rants about his belief in God and how even the worst sinners--and presumably he believes that Meursault is one of them--could obtain God's forgiveness, if only they would repent.

Meursault begins blocking out the magistrate's remarks. It's too hot in the office, big flies are buzzing around and lighting on his cheeks, and, anyway, the magistrate's behavior has become alarming. What does all this talk about religion have to do with the case? Meursault concludes to himself that the only real complication, from the magistrate's point of view, is why Meursault paused before firing four more shots.

Meursault wants to explain that it doesn't make any difference why he paused, but before he can speak, the magistrate asks if he believes in God. Meursault, without thinking twice, answers no, but the magistrate refuses to accept this. The foundation of the magistrate's understanding of life is that everyone believes in God. If he ever came to doubt the existence of God, the magistrate tells Meursault, his life would have no meaning. Doesn't Meursault believe that Christ suffered for his sake? he asks. Meursault is anxious for the interview to end and pretends to agree. But when the magistrate asks once more whether he believes in God, Meursault can't prevent himself from shaking his head no.

NOTE: Do you feel that the magistrate is being sincere? Is his performance with the crucifix, which Camus later implies he's repeated many times before, a way of seeking reassurance that his own beliefs are valid? The magistrate seems to view Meursault's unwillingness to play his game as an attempt on Meursault's part to undermine the meaning of life he's found for himself.

The magistrate tells Meursault that until now he's never known a criminal who didn't weep when he brought out the crucifix. In his eyes, Meursault is the most hardened criminal he's ever met. But do you think that Meursault, who didn't weep at his mother's funeral, is about to begin weeping now? Though Meursault is willing to agree with other people in some instances, he refuses to budge when his religious beliefs are questioned. Why do you think this issue is so important to him?

The interview ends with a final question: did Meursault regret killing the Arab? Meursault takes his time answering. No, he didn't feel regret, but "a kind of vexation." The magistrate doesn't understand what he means.

Over the next 11 months, Meursault, accompanied by his lawyer, has numerous interviews with the magistrate. Sometimes the lawyer and the magistrate ignore Meursault. At other times, they allow him to take part in the conversation. Never once, Meursault tells us, do they express hostility toward him. Camus doesn't tell us what's being discussed during these interviews, but you can almost imagine the two talking openly about Meursault in his presence. The magistrate never again mentions religion, except to address Meursault as "Mr. Antichrist" at the end of each interview. Meursault feels so comfortable at these hearings that he has the "absurd impression" of being "one of the family." As you read, note how frequently Camus refers to the absurdity of a particular situation, especially in Meursault's encounters with his lawyer, the magistrate, and the chaplain.

In his role as an anonymous officer worker, Meursault could limit and control his encounters with the world. But in his encounters with the legal system, he is forced, time and again, into situations where his "otherness"--his difference from the socially accepted norm--is particularly noticeable.

^^^^^^^^^^THE STRANGER: CHAPTER II

In this chapter, Meursault tells us what it's like for him in prison. At the end of the previous chapter, we learned that the examinations with the magistrate had gone on for 11 months. Now you will see whether the experience of being in jail for almost a year has affected Meursault or whether he's still the same person he was before he killed the Arab.

When Meursault first enters prison, he never imagines talking to anyone of his experiences there. Gradually, as time passes, this reluctance fades away. He tells us that during the first few days he was hardly conscious on where he was; he had the vague hope that something would happen to alter his circumstances. He credits the subsequent change in his attitude to the knowledge that Marie would not be allowed to visit him again, since the authorities have discovered she isn't his wife. When he learns this, he realizes that his prison cell is his home--his last home, possibly--and that he'll never have the pleasure of being with her again. On his first day in prison, he's put into a big cell with other prisoners, mostly Arabs. When asked the nature of his crime, he tells them, in his usual straightforward way, and without thought of repercussion, that he's in prison for killing an Arab. This is another example of Meursault's refusal to lie, regardless of the circumstances.

Some days later, he's moved into a small prison cell, with a plank bed and latrine bucket. From the small window, he tells us, he can view the sea, and "the sunlight playing on the waves."

One day Marie visits him, asks if he has everything he wants, and extends greetings from Raymond. The noise of the other prisoners and their visitors in the visiting room makes it hard for Meursault to concentrate on her. The people's voices are filled with anxiety, and Meursault and Marie have to shout at each other to make themselves heard. As Marie presses up against the rail that separates them, Meursault feels a great desire to reach out and squeeze her shoulders. Marie tries to reassure him by saying that "it'll all come right" and that when he gets out of prison they'll be able to get married and go swimming on Sundays. When the meeting ends, Marie blows him a kiss, while pressing her face to the rails and trying to smile.

NOTE: The image of sunlight is used here in various ways. Meursault notes its playful quality, as he stares from the window of his cell; yet during Marie's visit the sunlight creates "a harsh white glare" and makes him feel dizzy. In the visitor's room, the sunlight seems to be "surging up against the window" and "smearing the faces of the people... with... yellow oil." Most readers feel that the image of the sun, as it's used here, carries both positive and negative overtones, and reflects the instability and precariousness of modern life.

Soon after, Marie writes Meursault and says that she's not going to be allowed to visit again. Meursault now realizes that he has to change his way of thinking. His memories of what his life was like as "a free man" torment him, and he longs to go swimming. But eventually he realizes that he must adjust to life in prison and begins to look forward to the daily walks in the courtyard and the visits from his lawyer. His ability to make this adjustment gives him strength. If he can adjust to prison life, he can get used to anything.

Meursault passes the time thinking of all his old lovers. He makes friends with the chief jailer, who tells him that lack of sex is the subject prisoners complain about most. At first, Meursault doesn't understand why he should be deprived of sex. The jailer explains that sending people to prison is a way of depriving them of their liberty, Otherwise, Meursault finally realizes, jail wouldn't be a punishment.

Meursault also has a hard time going without cigarettes, but by the time he realizes that this form of deprivation is also a punishment, he's lost the craving.

The main problem, he tells us, is passing the time. His chief occupation is remembering all the objects in his former apartment. As a person who observes life from the outside, rather than participating in it fully, Meursault has an uncanny ability to notice the precise details of objects and people. This ability serves him well in prison. He spends hours listing and describing from memory the objects in his former bedroom. He concludes that, after a single day's experience in the outside world, a person could easily spend a hundred years in prison, because he'd have "enough memories never to be bored."

Sleep is also a way of passing the time. Meursault admits that after a few months in prison he's able to sleep 16 to 18 hours a night. That leaves approximately six hours to fill by eating and remembering.

The one unusual event that occurs during his stay in prison is the discovery of a newspaper clipping beneath the mattress. The clipping tells the story of a crime that took place in a village in Czechoslovakia. One of the villagers leaves home to seek his fortunes abroad. Twenty-five years later, a rich man, he returns to the village with his wife and child. He decides to surprise his mother and sister, who are now running a small hotel. Leaving his wife and child at another hotel, he takes a room, under an assumed name, at his mother's. Neither his mother nor his sister recognizes him. During the night, the two women murder their guest for his money. When the dead man's wife arrives the next morning and reveals his identity, the mother hangs herself and the sister throws herself into a well.

NOTE: Camus used the subject of this clipping as the basis for his play, The Misunderstanding, first produced in 1944. By presenting the story to us here, he gives us the circumstances surrounding another murder, and poses the question of why and how such an act takes place. The mother and sister are motivated by greed, and this blinds them (much the same way the sun blinds Meursault) to the identity of their victim. The story of the clipping echoes the parricide trial directly following Meursault's, and alludes to Meursault's own trial, during which the prosecutor attempts to condemn Meursault for not crying at his mother's funeral. (By his showing no emotion at his mother's death, it could be inferred that Meursault hated his mother, or wanted to kill her.)

Meursault rereads this story "thousands of times." Why do you think he finds it so fascinating?

The days slip by. Time, which in the past gave Meursault's life some semblance of meaning and order, is no longer important. Only the concepts of "yesterday" and "tomorrow" still have meaning. The most difficult time of day, for Meursault, is the early evening, when the sun disappears and the sounds begin "creeping up from all the floors of the prison in a sort of stealthy procession." Meursault stares at his reflection in his tin pannikin, or platter, and notes that his expression has become more serious, mournful, and tense. He hears a voice and realizes that it's his own voice, that he's begun talking to himself. Though he has found ways to occupy himself in prison, he obviously longs for the pleasures of his former life, for the freedom to act impulsively, and to live in the moment.

Some readers feel that killing the Arab had a positive effect on Meursault's attitude toward the world. His imprisonment, they say, made him realize that life was worth living. Others feel that Meursault had already come to terms with the outside world before the murder, and could be considered a reasonably well-adjusted person. Life in prison, according to these readers, deprived Meursault of a way of life that was basically healthy, and forced him to rely on his memories to stay sane. As you read, ask yourself whether Meursault has changed for the better or the worse.