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The Outsider — Why Albert Camus’ Masterpiece Still Haunts Me Today
“Mother died today. Or perhaps yesterday, I don’t know. I received a telegram from the home: “Mother dead. Funeral tomorrow. Deepest sympathy.” It leaves the matter unclear; it could have been yesterday.” — L’étranger. Albert Camus 1942
One of the famous openings of any 21st century book. The Outsider (or The Stranger depending on the translation) tells the story of Meursault. He lives in his dead mother’s flat, he works, he smokes, he reads, he goes swimming, he chats with his neighbours, he has occasional sex, he goes to the cinema. Happy to have a place in the world without taking part in it. An outsider looking in.
I was sent to boarding school when I was seven after the death of my own mother. The school was rural and cut off, and when we weren’t studying or playing sports, we were left to amuse ourselves. We called it ‘The Island’.
We called it this because we couldn’t leave. Sometimes boys ran away, but they always came back.
I neither enjoyed nor disliked school. I was just there, waiting until the time I could leave. I spent ten years there, and yet, I would be hard pushed to tell an interesting story about it. It was an odd experience, I have to admit, and one I wouldn’t put my own children through.
