In Albert Camus’ The Outsider, Meursault—emotionally
succinct, eagle-eyed Frenchman—exists as a stranger to society as a result of
his atypical personality. In the novella, Meursault is enticed into a dangerous
friendship, eventually leading to the “accidental” killing of an Arab man, a
crime for which the incoherent Algerian legal system eventually sentences him.
A mildly empathetic doppelgänger to T. S Eliot’s “J. Alfred Prufrock”
character, Meursault exists as a non-member to society, an observer to a life
that is only superficially his own, disconnectedly acknowledging events as they
occur. This passage is an extract from The
Outsider’s beach scene, during which Meursault fatally shoots the Arab
man—essentially the decisive moment in this otherwise passive novella. In this
passage, Meursault’s description of the blinding and debilitating power of the
Algiers Sun and its overwhelming influence over his actions, as well as his
complete distance and rationalization of the event serve to paint an image of
blamelessness, essentially his innocence in the grand scheme of things. In
light of this innocence, readers come to comprehend—upon further perusing—the
injustice to his sentence.
Throughout the novella, Meursault
repeatedly makes reference to the enfeebling force of the Algerian sun. He
describes the sweltering weather in great details, constantly perspiring and
fatigued. Upon his arrival at Mason’s beach house, he remarks the almost
blinding brightness of the sun, constantly referring to the rising mid-day
heat. “The whole beach was reverberating
in the sun and pressing against me from behind.” (1-2). In this passage,
Meursault’s thoughts are constantly interrupted by remarks regarding the heat,
suggesting that he is being incapacitated by the heat, unable to coherently
think, or process his thoughts. “The sun
was beginning to burn my cheeks, and I felt drops of sweat gathering in my
eyebrows.” (4-5) This thought interrupts his observation of the Arab’s
face, clearly a greater priority. Meursault describes his complete discomfort,
almost in a sunburn daze, saturated with sweat—this recalls the funeral scene,
during which he was unable to think of anything but the stifling sultriness, as
he walked behind his mother’s hearse. “It
was the same sun as on the day of mother’s funeral and again it was my forehead
that was hurting me the most and all the veins were throbbing at once beneath
the skin.” (5-7). Here, Meursault gives an idea as to the degree of his
discomfort, localizing his pain to his head, describing a seemingly horrendous,
sun-induced migraine. With this in mind, it is clear that his thought process
could never remain unaffected in this heat; his actions guided by the
sweltering sun. “And because I couldn’t
stand this burning feeling any longer, I moved forward…the light leapt off the
steel and it was like a long, flashing sword lunging at my forehead.” (7-11).
With this statement, Meursault accounts for his decision to move closer to the
Arab, attributing his easily misinterpreted gesture the unbearable heat. The
gleaming light coming off the Arab’s knife is described as completely crippling,
a weapon all on its own, assaulting Meursault with its blinding gleam. “All I could feel were the cymbals of the sun
clashing against my forehead and, indistinctly, the dazzling spear still
leaping up off the knife in front of me” (13-15). In this thought, readers
are reminded of the recurring—and comical—occurrence in many childhood
cartoons, where cymbals are melodramatically banged on a character’s forehead,
completely disorienting it. Blinded by the refracted light, much of the same
thing happens to Meursault, as his senses because completely obstructed; the
world liquefied into a torrid haze. “It
was like a red-hot blade gnawing at my eyelashes and gouging out my stinging
eyes…The Sea swept ashore a great breath of fire. The sky seemed to be
splitting from end to end and raining down sheets of flame.” (15-18). The
sweltering heat overtakes his thoughts, described in an almost torturous
fashion. He is in excruciating pain, indisposed by the glaring light. With all
of these fragments in regards to the heat, the light, and their debilitating
powers over him, we are given evidence of Meursault’s innocence. It was clear
that he had no real intent to murder or assault the Arab, as he was both physically
and rationally incapacitated by the heat—clearly described as the primary theme
to all of his thoughts. Considering his innocence, we are faced with the horror
of his eventual sentence, completely based on the unorthodox nature of his
emotional rationale, discounting the actual cause of his behavior. The sun is
his subtle nemesis, siphoning his usual composure and pragmatism, leaving him
tragically overcome.
In additional regard to Meursault’s
innocence, the passage gives clear evidence to substantiate the absence of any
murderous intent. His thoughts, clearly structured and emotionally removed,
simply account for the enervating and draining heat, remarking events as they
occurred, bereft of any sentimental influence. Before stepping forward—closer
to the Arab—he remarks, “I realized that
I only had to turn around and it would all be over. But the whole beach was
reverberating in the sun…” (1-2). Here, we see conscious observation,
recognizing that the situation had a precarious aspect to it, as well as
acknowledging his inability to
circumvent this situation. “...I moved
forward. I knew it was stupid and I wouldn’t get out of the sun with one step.
But I took a step, just one step forward.” (8-10). The Arab is nowhere to
be seen in any of his thoughts: all rationalizations for his actions are hinged
on the ultimate goal of escaping the sultry glare of the sun. It is obvious
that he has no murderous intent, given that his thoughts provide no evidence of
any sort of anger, premeditation, or even regard
for dealing with the Arab man. “At
the same time all the sweat that had gathered in my eyebrows suddenly ran down
over my eyelids, covering them with a dense layer of warm moisture. My eyes
were blinded by this veil of salty tears.” (12-14). Here, Meursault
confirms that he has become legitimately visually incapacitated—coincidentally
his most frequently used sense—his surroundings thawed by the salty tears
tainting his sight. “My whole being went
tense and I tightened my grip on the gun. The trigger gave, I felt the
underside of the polished butt and it was there, in that sharp nut deafening
noise, that it all started.” (18-20) Again, it is clearly observed that the
idea of murder never occurred to Meursault prior to firing the gun—in fact, he
did not consider the Arab man even whilst
firing the gun. He describes the trigger “giving”, suggesting that the
actual firing was likely incidental; a mere unfortunate byproduct of his tense,
heat-crippled body. “And I fired four
more times at a lifeless body and the bullets sank without leaving a mark.”
(22-23). Firing again appears to have been done for no apparent reason.
Meursault simply acknowledges this occurrence, factually stating his action,
giving no apparent reasoning or judgment (though we can likely attribute it to
the remnants of his sunny daze). With Meursault’s constant factual accounting
of his actions, occurrences, as well as the complete lack of evidence to
suggest any sort of murderous intent or premeditation, readers are again assured of his innocence. With
this reinforcement of his innocence, the horror and injustice to his sentence
intensifies. Despite the flawed legal system, we sit there, with undeniable evidence to suggest his
innocence, but fact becomes obscured by emotion—a terribly frightening incident
in a supposedly “legal setting”.
Throughout this passage from Albert
Camus’ The Outsider, Meursault’s
artful and overwhelming stream of consciousness is utilized to convey his
innocence in the killing of the Arab. Through the inclusion of intermittent
thoughts hinged on the sweltering glare and assault of the heat on his
consciousness, readers are made aware of the sun’s debilitating effect on the
narrator, in essence relieving him of responsibility for decisions made during
this time. Additionally, Meursault continues—as best he can—to succinctly
explain the rationale behind his every action; all thoughts completely devoid
of regard for the Arab. With this, we come to realize that there is significant
substantiation for his innocence, have no reason to suspect any sort of intent
or premeditation. Upon this assurance of Meursault’s innocence, we are truly
confronted with the outrage of his later sentence, coming the understanding the
distorting effect that nonconformity can have on individuals’ judgment. Master
of emotional manipulation and subtle detail, Camus effectively spotlights the
tragedy of Meursault’s existence as a stranger to society: a passive and
powerless spectator to a life barely his own.
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