IKE | L’Etranger
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Aujourd’hui, maman est morte. (If only Meursault had cried at her funeral).

I recently re-read The Stranger by Albert Camus . I read it for the first time when I was in my twenties. I’m not sure why I decided to read it again. I wasn’t depressed. My mother hadn’t died. I hadn’t killed anyone. It was probably a combination of several minor factors…

Perhaps I was mesmerized by the cover (left) or by the new cover design, by the amazing Helen Yentus or by the absurd fact that George Bush had it on his reading list a few years back.

I remembered the book primarily as an indictment of the death penalty, but my youthful reading didn’t absorb much of Camus’ Absurdist philosophy.

I say, read the book. Camus might have said: “Read it. Don’t read it. Whatever.”

David Isaacson
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