Thursday, August 05, 2010

Constant Memories

I dig them out randomly, reuse them to fill the dark
in my days over and over again.

But those beautiful memories and carefree laughter
seem void of emotions after so much reuse.

Strained present has firmly altered the past
and weeded the life out of those moments.

Memories are all you have, they say.
No. Not always.

The Stranger by Albert Camus

Monsieur Meursault (MM) is not a stranger in the literal sense and is not always a stranger. Over the course of the book Camus has done a brilliant job of unraveling the protagonist. At what point MM becomes a stranger depends solely on the reader's personality. After about half the book when the murder is committed and MM finds himself being shuttled between his cell and the courtroom, there is a lot going on on his mind. The following pages are quite intense as MM tries to assess the gravity of his situation, while none of the small details escape his attention.

MM comes across as a very strong and rational character ill at ease with the ways of the world, which is understandable. During his entire trial that goes on over a few months, he has innumerable thoughts and opinions, which is also natural. However, not once does he feel a flash of remorse or thinks that he could have shown some restraint on that fateful day. Not once. To him, that day is done and over with. He has no eyes for the past. That is the place he turned alien to me.

Camus has not made any conscious effort to make MM a stranger. Its just this particular human identity is a bundle of queer and firm opinions, desires, dislikes, and thoughts. None of it will change come what may. Camus could write another hundred pages and still MM would turn a stranger at some point or other. Must read.