Thursday, November 14, 2013

Odd Impressions

So there's that scene in The Stranger (see p. 85 in our book) where Meursault sees the reporter looking at him and feels like he's watching himself. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I can't think of any moment before that where Meursault looks inward at all. All of his descriptions are about the people around him, the weather, or, in a few cases, his instincts. He's tired, he wants Marie, the sun's in his eyes. For a man who is so surface-centered and physical, it makes sense that he would be able to pick up on a like-minded person from just a face. Then if Meursault identifies with this man, what does this man's appearance say about Meursault? Or, if Meursault identifies with this man, perhaps this man also identifies with Meursault, implying that the character Meursault projects onto the reporter identifies the character he sees in himself, which at the very least, he hasn't confronted in a long time. Woah. Deep.

The reporter’s appearance is described in great detail, leading me to believe that there is something significant about his looks. Meursault describes that he “was much younger than the others, wearing grey flannels and a blue tie, had left his pen lying in front of him and was looking at me." From this, we get the sense of an ordinary guy who’s discontent with society’s judgments. I think the fact that he’s staring at Meursault while the other, older reporters all “had their pens in hand” with the “same indifferent and somewhat snide look on their faces” implies that he is the type of person who looks deeper into situations, or at least doesn’t take judgments as fact. Meursault seems indifferent to readers in his impersonal relationship with life, but I think the way he sees this young reporter in comparison with the others reflects that, rather than being indifferent, Meursault--and the reporter, as well--prefers to stay unbiased and withhold judgment.

Why, and now of all times, does it seem like Meursault just looked in the mirror for the first time? Throughout the novel, I wavered back and forth on the presence of empathy in Meursault's character, and this scene confuses me even more. On one hand, I think the reporter looks empathetic from our perspective. He seems to be seeking to understand him while others pass him by. But if Meursault sees himself in the young reporter, maybe Meursault (along with the reporter) looks as if he's identifying (or empathizing) with another person on the outside, when really they're both separated from the meaning of empathy and instead are just looking at the world coldly and objectively, which I think should be the antithesis of empathy. Sure, Meursault understands why Marie wants him to love her. But he doesn't think it's relevant for him. Yeah, he sees why his boss didn't like him taking a day off right before the weekend. But he couldn't relate. (He didn't even connect the days together!) He gets why the priest and criminals want to find their meaning in God, but he doesn't feel that longing in the slightest. He sees other people, but maybe seeing alone should be the opposite of feeling. Identifying with this reporter, having the "odd impression of being watched by [himself]," forced Meursault to sort of reverse empathize. By meeting eyes with the reporter, Meursault was able to empathize with himself.

1 comment:

  1. This is a really interesting take on a seemingly fleeting moment in a crowded chapter. It makes sense, though. I never did find a way to mention it in class, but my favorite illustration of Meursault's disinclination to introspect is found in the chapter where he spends the day on his balcony, eating chocolate and watching passersby. At one point, as he's ready to turn in for the night, he "glances at" a mirror and sees . . . not himself, but "a corner of my table with my alcohol lamp next to some pieces of bread." No gazing at himself wonderingly here--the mirror simply reveals some furniture and scraps of food!

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