And So The Guillotine Was Let Loose

It is overwhelming how sometimes certain things are better understood when left unsaid. That is, how the art of inferring can enlighten us with richer knowledge than that we would have ever attained through careless reading. What are sometimes considered as gaps in the text are rather hidden caves of infinite information that allow the reader to infer. Most of these inferences made throughout the reading of a novel unravel vital truths that would have otherwise not caused such an impact.

            Throughout Albert Camus’ novel, “The Stranger”, the continuous gaps in the text provide fructiferous questioning that not only force but also inspire the reader to infer on what both Camus and Meursault are attempting to deliver. It surprised me how undetailed the novel is; nonetheless, this grants an even deeper meaning to it. The reader can see how Meursault never describes himself, how he never really explains what and when things went wrong with Maman, and why he is the careless man he is.

            Despite Meursault’s lack of emotion and explanation, what distressed me the most was not textually reading whether his beheading occurred or not. It took me a moment to realize just how much richer was Camus’ way of concluding the novel.  The reader can infer upon the novel's end; he/she has the chance to compile 120 pages of textual reference with unlimited prior knowledge in the attempt to formulate an individually convincing verdict.

“As if that blind rage had washed me clean… for the first time… I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world… I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again.” (Page 123)

And so the novel ends. But wait, where is the part where Meursault gets his head cut off and crowds cry and cheer and Marie scowls in despair and Maman waits for him beside the God he never believed in?

            I believe Camus did this for a reason; just as Meursault was accused of being intelligent while in trial, I accuse Camus of being clever while in writing. So what if Meursault dies beheaded or of old age? So what if he died now, later, yesterday? Meursault reached the ultimate sentiment of indifference towards the world; that which we all want but feel afraid of. He understood that what mattered was his unique capability of living life without regret and without the childish illusion of hoping it would be another. He was a man; he understood that he was alone and that the only thing that mattered was what he had in the present: dawn, the beating of his heart, and his capability of feeling happy in the face of death. He was strong; he never even considered a hypocrite deathbed conversion. If we were indifferent to the world, just as it is indifferent to us, we would be able to genuinely and gingerly live the condemned life we have. The lack of information provided in the novel only encourages us to daydream of the infinite possibilities Meursault may have faced; however, what really ends up having any relevance and importance is his final inner accomplishment. It is a lesson, to each and every one of us. Anyone can die today or tomorrow, anyone can come along and decide for you, but what should worry us in life is the task of attaining an indifferent position against the possibility of death and rather use our time to focus on doing what we are passionate about, what we can do now, and what we will probably not have the opportunity to even considering doing tomorrow.