Book review: The Stranger by Albert Camus

Reading The Stranger by Albert Camus was an experience unlike any other in my literary journey. From the first page to the last, I felt drawn into a world that was both starkly simple and unsettlingly profound, a world filtered through the consciousness of a man who defied conventional emotion and meaning. It is one of those books that continues to echo in the mind long after it’s finished, forcing a confrontation with difficult truths and existential realities.

The book, originally published in 1942, is a seminal work of philosophical fiction by the French-Algerian writer and philosopher Albert Camus. Falling under the broader umbrella of existential literature and often labeled as absurdist, the novel targets a reflective and intellectually curious audience—readers who seek not just a story, but a lens through which to re-examine life itself. Although the plot is accessible and the prose deceptively clear, the undercurrents of meaning and philosophical subtext demand a mature reader, someone ready to engage with concepts of absurdity, death, freedom, and alienation.

Set in French-colonial Algeria, The Stranger tells the story of Meursault, a young man who receives news of his mother’s death and reacts in a way that society finds disturbingly indifferent. What follows is a sequence of events that unfolds with a calm, clinical inevitability. Meursault’s relationships—with friends, lovers, and eventually the legal system—are described with a strange detachment, not because he lacks intellect or awareness, but because he seems disinterested in playing by society’s emotional and moral rules. The narrative moves from the mundane to the tragic with a quiet fluidity that is both shocking and inevitable. To avoid revealing too much, I will only say that Meursault’s ultimate fate is sealed not just by what he does, but by who he is—or rather, by how he refuses to pretend to be anything other than himself.

Camus’ prose is a marvel of economy and clarity. The language is stripped of ornamentation, rendered in plain, declarative sentences that mirror Meursault’s internal world. Yet beneath the seemingly flat tone lies a current of philosophical inquiry that challenges the reader to look beyond surface action and consider what lies at the heart of human existence. The first-person narration places us squarely inside Meursault’s head, and the effect is both intimate and disorienting. We are made to observe, as he does, without judgment, without metaphor, without the comforting cushion of sentiment. This narrative voice is one of the book’s most striking features—it is as though the world is being described by someone who sees things precisely as they are, unfiltered by illusion or societal expectation.

Structurally, the novel is divided into two parts, mirroring a shift from passive existence to active confrontation with meaning—or the lack thereof. The first part of the novel reads almost like a diary, filled with daily occurrences and seemingly trivial details. The second part introduces the mechanisms of justice and the expectations of morality, and with it, the real tension begins. Camus masterfully juxtaposes the ordinary with the profound, showing how a life devoid of feigned emotion becomes intolerable to a society that depends on such performance for its moral compass.

Imagery in The Stranger is used sparingly but with precision. The sun, for instance, becomes a recurring motif that evokes discomfort, disorientation, and the inescapable force of nature. The Algerian landscape is not painted in lush or romantic terms but as a stark, indifferent backdrop to human activity. These choices are deliberate, serving the philosophical undertones of the novel—namely, that the universe is indifferent to human suffering, and it is up to the individual to make peace with that fact.

The themes in The Stranger are both timeless and deeply unsettling. Camus explores the absurd—the idea that human beings search for meaning in a world that offers none. Meursault becomes the embodiment of this philosophy, living a life governed not by moral codes or emotional pretense but by sensory experience and honesty. His refusal to lie, to pretend to grieve, or to express remorse, becomes his greatest crime in the eyes of society. The novel poses difficult questions: What does it mean to be human? Is emotional conformity a moral necessity? Can authenticity be dangerous?

Despite its brilliance, some might find The Stranger difficult to embrace emotionally. Meursault is not a sympathetic character in the traditional sense. His detachment, his indifference, can alienate the reader. But this is not a flaw of the book—it is a deliberate choice that forces the reader to examine their own reactions. The emotional distance is part of what makes the book so powerful. It confronts us with the uncomfortable reality that not all people conform to our expectations of humanity, and it challenges us to decide what that means.

What impressed me most about The Stranger was how it managed to be simultaneously simple and profound. There is no flourish, no overt philosophical argument, and yet the entire book is a philosophical argument in itself—one made through the life and voice of a single character. The emotional impact builds gradually, almost imperceptibly, until the final chapters deliver a crushing weight of meaning. I found myself deeply moved, not in the tearful, sentimental way, but in the sense of being intellectually and spiritually rattled. This book made me think about death, freedom, and the roles we perform in society more deeply than many essays or lectures ever could.

The Stranger stands apart from other existential or absurdist novels because of Camus’ unique tone. Where Sartre is cerebral and Kafka is nightmarish, Camus is cool and lucid. There is a kind of detached compassion in his writing, a respect for the integrity of individual experience. Even in its darkest moments, the novel does not moralize or manipulate. It simply presents, and in doing so, it allows readers to draw their own conclusions.

I found The Stranger to be a masterpiece of modern literature. It is not a book that offers easy answers or comforting messages. Rather, it invites the reader to engage with life’s most troubling questions, to confront the void and come away changed. I would recommend it to anyone with a love for literature that challenges and expands the mind. Those interested in philosophy, psychology, or simply the depths of the human condition will find much to ponder here. My final verdict is this: The Stranger is a brilliant and haunting meditation on the absurdity of life and the courage it takes to live authentically in an indifferent world.

This book review was written using the following references 👇

• Full text The Stranger by Albert Camus at LitArchive
• Audiobook The Stranger by Albert Camus at AudioReads