The Outsider by Albert Camus

            Out of all the books we have read so far, The Stranger has been my favorite by far. I have been absolutely astounded by the fact that even though Meursault is such a seemingly emotionless, robotic, and even animalistic protagonist, he has managed to evoke some of the strongest reactions and most intense debates that we’ve had all semester. How did Camus pull this off? The key, in my opinion, was his language. Every word has a deeper meaning, and every sentence offers not only a clinically precise description of events, but also a subtle glimpse into Meursault’s true character. It is easy to imagine a romanticized version of Camus, working far into the night by candlelight, slaving over each word to make sure it fits absolutely perfectly in his portrayal of Meursault. And yet, how disappointed he would have been to realize that all his work had gone to waste – it had all been lost in translation.

            Translating a masterpiece, like The Stranger, is always a daunting task, but it is compounded by the fact that English is a relatively simple language. It just doesn’t have the tools to express many aspects of French, and as a result, in almost all translations, including the one by Matthew Ward that we have been reading, a lot of Camus’s implied meaning has been lost.

Recently, however, a new version has come out by the American translator Sandra Smith, which is targeted specifically at dealing with some of the holes in earlier translations. Her translation deviates from previous attempts from the very first word. Camus’s original title for the book was L’Étranger, which had always been translated as “the stranger.” In French, however, it means more than just that; it describes someone who is foreign, someone who doesn’t fit within the community. Therefore, Smith’s version of L’Étranger is actually titled The Outsider, a title which I feel much better describes Meursault’s personality, as well as others’ inability to understand his mentality. A second important change she made is how she dealt with the distinction between tu (the informal version of “you,” which you would only say to an adult if you had an extremely close relationship with them) and vous (the formal “you”). This difference is especially important to this book in particular, as it allows us to better understand the depth of Meursault’s personal relationships. One example of this occurs in the scene where Meursault becomes Raymond Sìntes’s “pal.” In the original French, Camus writes: “Je ne me suis pas aperçu d’abord qu’il me tutoyait,” which Ward translates as “I didn’t notice at first, but he had stopped calling me ‘monsieur’” (33). Smith, on the other hand, translates it as “At first I didn’t realize he’d started addressing me in a very personal way,” which portrays the depth of the implication of the statement a bit better. While not being called “mister” is quite common (most adults I know introduce themselves to other adults by their first name), being addressed extremely personally seems to be more of the intrusion and violation of one’s dignity that is implied by being called “tu” in French.

While no translation is perfect, The Outsider definitely serves to resolve these and many more of the issues with previous versions. I would be very interested to see if our class discussions would have gone along a different path if we had read this or another translation of the book.

The Metamorphosis - Experiencing Racism

            I think we can all agree that the story of the Metamorphosis has very little chance of happening in real life. Unless quantum mechanics goes berserk, none of us will probably ever have to worry about waking up and realizing that we have metamorphosed into some kind of despicable vermin – insectoid or otherwise. What makes this novella unique, however, is that once we accept the premise that Gregor Samsa has turned into a “monstrous insect,” the rest of the story follows quite logically and realistically. In fact, Gregor’s experiences after his metamorphosis felt oddly familiar to me, as if I had heard such stories before. It took me a while to figure out why, until recently I realized that I had read many stories like this throughout my academic career, each one slightly varied, but always along the same lines. Gregor’s life as an insect is uncannily similar to the lives of people in minority groups in our inherently prejudiced culture.

            The parallels begin on the very morning that he mutates. As he tries to get out of bed, he does not seem to think that being an insect will hinder his ability to be a travelling salesman at all – the fact that his appearance is not like anyone else’s does not mean that his mind and personality are any different. When other people see him, however, even his parents, they are repulsed. All they see is what he looks like on the outside, someone different and untrustworthy – someone who they should leave alone and not mix with. The next incident occurs a few hours or so later. For the first time in five years, he is a little bit late to get to work, and immediately the chief clerk comes knocking at the door, asking what is wrong with him. One would think that out of all the employees at the firm, there would be at least a few who were late, and who would have worse track records than Gregor, and yet it is the chief clerk himself who comes to check on him. Why? Even though he has been one of the most faithful workers at the firm, his employers don’t trust him solely because he works for a purpose different from everyone else’s – to repay his father’s debt. As the story goes on, such incidents continue to occur, with his father throwing apples at him, his sister not caring enough to give him the food he wants, and finally with the three lodgers who refuse to pay the Samsas when they discover that they had been living alongside Gregor.

            By this point, Gregor, being of very practical disposition, had mostly accepted the effect his appearance had on others, but as with everyone who has to endure such callous and unwarranted torment, it took a toll on him, and he became depressed. The sheer savage power of racism had caused him to be so shamed and mistreated that eventually, the man who had once worked incessantly and tirelessly to support his entire family was broken, and he had no energy left to do anything but lay down and die.

Is Cohn with the Wrong Crowd?

            Throughout The Sun also Rises, Jake’s narrative depicts Robert Cohn as someone who takes things way too personally, spoils their fun, and is generally irritating to be around. He is the odd one out in their group, and yet, if we look at what Cohn does that actually annoys them, we see that it is never anything serious, or for that matter, even necessarily bad. It is really just a combination of unfortunate circumstances and conflicting ways of life. Jake, Brett, Bill, and Mike lead very carefree lives, joking ironically, never taking anything seriously, and drinking and partying all the time, whereas Cohn is much more serious. He lives and dies by his own chivalrous principles, and he gets very offended when they aren't respected. This makes it hard for each of them to understand what the other person / people mean, and so they get angry all the time over petty misunderstandings.

            One example of this is when Cohn tells Jake about what happened between him and Brett after the party in Paris. Although Jake narrates the story in a way that makes Cohn seem like a complete idiot for thinking that his relationship with Brett could go anywhere, Cohn’s point of view makes sense objectively. For most people, if a relationship went as far as theirs did, it would be clear that both people were serious about it, but for Brett it didn’t mean anything; she was just having a bit of fun. In fact, if anyone was in the wrong, it was Brett. She led him on, even though she loves Jake and is engaged to Mike, whereas Cohn just made a relatively logical assumption.

            The other reason Cohn is portrayed badly is because Jake is biased. He is jealous of Cohn’s accomplishments and his relationship with Brett, and he even admits to this when he says “I was blind, unforgivingly jealous of what had happened to him. […] I certainly did hate him” (p. 104 – 105). We can see this bias even from the very beginning of the book. When Jake introduces him, he says that “Robert Cohn was once middleweight boxing champion of Princeton. Do not think that I am very much impressed by that as a boxing title, but it meant a lot to Cohn” (p. 1). He acknowledges Cohn’s accomplishments, but makes his opinion very clear, and I think that because this occurs extremely often throughout the book, it has a big impact on how we subconsciously perceive Cohn.

            These two factors – Jake’s bias and their contrasting personalities – are what make me wonder if Cohn would be better off around people who are more like him, perhaps people from the more conservative older generation, as opposed to the reckless, adventurous, and cynical modern generation.