In class discussions, the meaning of Meursault's name was tossed up in a digression, and my attention was immediately snared. I admit that I have a secret weakness for hidden meanings in the names of characters. It's like a spy code, one implanted by the author slyly to us curious readers. One of the best examples I can think of is the name Voldemort in Harry Potter - for the few who do not already know, Voldemort literally translates into "flight of death." When I discovered this fact (after three years of French mind you) I was ecstatic. And given that French is the language I have studied at Uni, The Stranger, originally written in said tongue, seems to be the perfect opportunity to hone my craft of name analyzing.
Like any other wise student, I mentioned this small quest of mine to my French teacher. (Thank you Madame Lopez!) It was she who suggested I break up the name Meursault into two parts: "meur" and "sault." The latter is a word in itself meaning truffles while the former is not quite a word. I highly doubt that Camus would name his main character after a mushroom - no matter how absurd it may be. A little more research turned out to be productive: "meur" sounds exactly like "mer," which means an ocean, and that translation is a lot more meaningful to me. The second half, "sault," is also similar to "soleil," or sun in English. If "Meursault"means Ocean Sun, then this name suddenly opens up a new prospective. For we know that Meursault takes his fateful walk down the beach and shoots the Arab because of the sun.
But, just to undermine my own argument in the name of the Truth (a rather Meursaultian act), Camus also uses the name "Mersault" as a surname for another character, Patrice Mersault, the protagonist in A Happy Death, a novel composed before The Stranger. Perhaps this startling coincidence can help me pinpoint a reason for choosing this name for two characters. Camus grew up in Algeria and he loved the sun-drenched landscape and he would have doubtlessly be able to explore its oceanic views. Was he an avid lover of nature? Or is it something else?
Showing posts with label albert camus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label albert camus. Show all posts
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
the story about the Czechoslovakian.
This passing mention of the newspaper article has always intrigued me. Why bring it up? It seems undeniably significant given it is the only story Meursault reads over and over in prison, but am I misled to attach so much importance to this story within the story? The premise of the tale of the Czechoslovakian is a deeply bitter one - a man leaves home, becomes rich, comes back to surprise his family, and gets unknowingly murdered by his mother and sister for his wealth. Is this the son's fault for this turn of misfortune? Can we attribute his death to bad luck? Or does the blame lie with his murderers who later kill themselves? Does the story ultimately trace back to the fundamental criticism of human greed? And what does it mean for Meursault?
Well Meursault is a bit skeptical of the story, but he does blame the son for attempting to deceive his family. Yet his concept of lying is a bit stretch. The Czechoslovakian did not set out to lie to his family for an evil purpose - he merely wanted to surprise them. It's much like a birthday surprise: you don't tell that person about the party because you want to heighten the pleasure he or she will surely derive from the party. But Meursault recoils from this idea strongly. For him, it's the act rather than the consequences of deception that is repulsive.
Meursault speaks the truth with similar deliberation. And tying in what I learned about Camus's stance on Absurdism, this story seems to affirm the philosophy that life is ultimately meaningless. Sure we search for meaning, much like how the Czechoslovakian did by trying to surprise his family, but where does that ultimately leads us?
Well, reading The Stranger, the answer seems to be death.
Well Meursault is a bit skeptical of the story, but he does blame the son for attempting to deceive his family. Yet his concept of lying is a bit stretch. The Czechoslovakian did not set out to lie to his family for an evil purpose - he merely wanted to surprise them. It's much like a birthday surprise: you don't tell that person about the party because you want to heighten the pleasure he or she will surely derive from the party. But Meursault recoils from this idea strongly. For him, it's the act rather than the consequences of deception that is repulsive.
Meursault speaks the truth with similar deliberation. And tying in what I learned about Camus's stance on Absurdism, this story seems to affirm the philosophy that life is ultimately meaningless. Sure we search for meaning, much like how the Czechoslovakian did by trying to surprise his family, but where does that ultimately leads us?
Well, reading The Stranger, the answer seems to be death.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Huh?
So I had just finished chapter six of The Stranger, and before I could even close the book, I felt a looming mass of confusion beating around in my mind jumping and stomping around threatening to burst. Why did Meursault shoot the guy? Why did he both walking towards the guy? Could there possibly be a logical explanation behind his actions? The way I read it, it seemed as if he was suffering from heat hallucination. Sure the Arab guy had pulled out a threatening weapon, but he wouldn't have if Meursault had not walked towards him in the first place. Who is to blame? And why must there be any blame? I mean yes someone died, but for what purpose?
Ironically, just before Meursault decides to take the fateful walk on the beach, a thought flashes through his mind: "to stay or to go, it amounted to the same thing." Such a typical attitude for him, but how drastically he was wrong. There is something deeply bitter about this course of actions. Camus seems to be berating those individuals who do nothing against the wrongness of society. By letting it pass you by, you are helping and therefore implicated in the crime. You may feel indifferent and innocent, but it is your refusal to stop the evil that is the most terrible crime of them all.
Ironically, just before Meursault decides to take the fateful walk on the beach, a thought flashes through his mind: "to stay or to go, it amounted to the same thing." Such a typical attitude for him, but how drastically he was wrong. There is something deeply bitter about this course of actions. Camus seems to be berating those individuals who do nothing against the wrongness of society. By letting it pass you by, you are helping and therefore implicated in the crime. You may feel indifferent and innocent, but it is your refusal to stop the evil that is the most terrible crime of them all.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
How Strange!
Reading Camus reminds me an awful lot of Hemingway. They write in the same short, clipped, almost angry or resigned voice, veering away from detailed descriptions to terse facts. And in the same magical way, they both manage to hint at something hidden beneath the surface. Their characters too are strikingly similar. Jake Barnes, a crippled war veteran, is a stoic, silent, and ultimately dependable guy. Monsieur Meursault is a stoic, awkward, and caring person whose mother has just died. The two heros are both incredibly honest. Jake, when speaking, always says what is on his mind - for example, when Robert Cohn asks him about Brett, Jake gives him a complete rundown of her history including a warning to not get involved. While this act does seem selfish of Jake, who is also in love with Brett, it can also be viewed as an earnest attempt to prevent Cohn from getting hurt. In reflection, Cohn ignores the advice and loses all his friends in the process.
Monsieur Meursault has a comparable tendency to speak openly. When asked by Marie, his girlfriend, if he loved her, he replied with a negative, and was puzzled by why she seemed sad. When Marie asked him if he wanted to get marry, he didn't have any particular reason against it, so he said sure. Some people tend to view his veracity as an autistic inability to lie, but it appears to me like his own brand of personal charm. He has no reason to lie and thus he does not. Sometimes, this tendencies to tell the truth conflicts with social conformity, and Meursault is understandably not particularly popular. So why is he the hero of this story? It's hard to grasp all the reasons given that I have read only a limited number of chapters, so I will reserve judgement for now.
Monsieur Meursault has a comparable tendency to speak openly. When asked by Marie, his girlfriend, if he loved her, he replied with a negative, and was puzzled by why she seemed sad. When Marie asked him if he wanted to get marry, he didn't have any particular reason against it, so he said sure. Some people tend to view his veracity as an autistic inability to lie, but it appears to me like his own brand of personal charm. He has no reason to lie and thus he does not. Sometimes, this tendencies to tell the truth conflicts with social conformity, and Meursault is understandably not particularly popular. So why is he the hero of this story? It's hard to grasp all the reasons given that I have read only a limited number of chapters, so I will reserve judgement for now.
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