Meursault, an ordinary little clerk living in Algiers, leads a quiet and unemotional life. He commits a senseless murder and is convicted, his lack of emotion toward his mother's death weighing against him. As he contemplates his execution, he considers the value of life and is on the verge of exhibiting feeling.
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I counted ten in all, gliding almost soundlessly through the bleak white glare.
None of the chairs creaked when they sat down. Never in my life had I seen
anyone so clearly as I saw these people; not a detail of their clothes or features
I remembered it was a Sunday, and that put me off; I've never cared for Sundays.
So I turned my head and lazily sniffed the smell of brine that Marie's head had left
on the pillow. I slept until ten. After that I stayed in bed until noon, smoking ...
I've never been able to look at them without a shudder. And. yet— believe me, I
am speaking from the depths of my heart —I know that even the wretchedest
amongst you have sometimes seen, taking form against that gray- ness, a divine
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LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - AngelaJMaher - www.librarything.com
I wasn't sure what to think when I first started reading this. It initially didn't feel worthy of the fuss, but as it enters the second part, it becomes a book that makes you think. Why are some ... Read full review
LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - drardavis - www.librarything.com
Spoiler alert! Not that it matters anyway, but don’t read this review if you don’t already know how it all ends. The Stranger is a perfect book, with a flawed philosophy. Camus is a liar. If he really ... Read full review