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The streetcars which a few minutes before had been crowded were now almost
empty. In the little cafe, Chez Pierrot, beside the tobacconist's, the waiter was
sweeping up the sawdust in the empty restaurant. A typical Sunday afternoon.
There were little pools of brightness under the lamps, and now and then a
streetcar passed, lighting up a girl's hair, or a smile, or a silver bangle. Soon after
this, as the streetcars became fewer and the sky showed velvety black above the
He told me he'd been having a roughhouse with a fellow who'd annoyed him. "I'm
not one who looks for trouble," he explained, "only I'm a bit short-tempered. That
fellow said to me, challenging-like, 'Come down off that streetcar, if you're a ...
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LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - AngelaJMaher - LibraryThing
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 - LibraryThing
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