I frequently return to a quote from “Mad Men’s” Don Draper in times of harrowing strife. “The universe is indifferent,” he states. Unlike Don Draper, I am not a mid-century ad man. I am a modern man. My life is fluid. Easy, I would argue. In spite of this and unlike many of my peers, I maintain a sense of stoicism. A removal from the tumultuous emotional landscape that has been painted by our culture and attitudes. This seems wrong. I conversed with friends and family members who responded to life’s unpredictability with great animation. Anger, fear and jubilation plagued their faces as reactions. Something felt wrong; I was removed from this norm. So I searched for answers. 

My solace did not come in a single fleeting revelation, as many reflections seem to. In a manner of prolonged rumination, I was subject to a study on the act of removal. Removal from the interests of others, from the unrelenting fist of expectation and from societal normality. 

This study is the culmination of a life’s experiences by Albert Camus. His vehicle is the peculiar Meursault. The resulting product is “The Stranger.” Described succinctly, “The Stranger” revolutionized the modern perspective of the ordinary. As I perused, I could not help but forge connections with the intentional incohesiveness of the later psychedelic work of The Beatles, or even with the minimalist ideas displayed by Yoko Ono or Mark Rothko. “The Stranger’s” relevance is eternal, a necessary observation on the inadvertent acts of mankind. Yet, I found necessity in discovering why we operate this way.

The simple aesthetic of “The Stranger” amplifies its philosophical meditations. The plot is linear, traceable yet delicately crafted. What bears the emotional weight, however, are the personalities that interact with each other. The character involvement is minimal, yet potent, enhanced further by the painstakingly honest interpretation of their ambitions by Meursault. He is of the world, but not involved in it. From the novel’s opening event, it is clear that he lacks a connection with society, and his place in it seems forced. As Meursault is subject to a host of life-altering relationships and situations, the pathway to his mind reveals itself, both through romance and simple friendship. 

Marie, Meursault’s girlfriend, is portrayed as a figurehead for the modern citizen. Involved, pleasant, yet lacking of a certain emotional depth. Contrastingly, Meursault’s friend Raymond adversely represents a life lived on the opposite end of the spectrum. He is a pimp, and the novel’s main events stem from his neglectful attitude towards both women and societal structure. His perspective allows for a deep insight into the motivations behind the events that unfold throughout. Together, they form a complex symbolic structure. Individual ideas weaving together to display the complicated nature of human connection, and how it is affected by absurd realities.

For a strong portion of the story, these relationships serve to place the reader in familiar ground. They allow for necessary engagement and provide opportunities to draw broad connections between absurdity and simplicity. But in a bizarre twist, Meursault is isolated with his own thoughts. In this final act, the theme of sheer ridiculousness is explored and expanded beyond reasonable boundaries. It is intense, yet essential to the core intent of the novel. Philosophical ideas come to the forefront. Interactions change from friends and love interests to parishioners and prison guards. Ceiling fans and dark walls become symbolic, an instrument at the mercy of Meursault’s evolved mind. In this state of seclusion, Meursault finds some semblance of resolution. However, Meursault’s story does not simply end, but rather transfers into the sporadic disposition of human action.

I finished “The Stranger” on a bench, overlooking a communal park. I sat and observed briefly, families and individuals meandering amongst nature. Laughing, drinking wine and smoking cigarettes. They too are removed. Modern and complex. I realized “The Stranger” does not work to isolate the ideas of Meursault, and the absurdity of his life is not shared communally. It instead provides context, made applicable when related to the universal experience. The world is absurd and indifferent, but that does not imply that those who experience it are. Our removal is an act of acceptance, not neglect. In that manner, we find peace. In isolation and among others.