Sunday, October 15, 2017

The Last Few Moments

I LOVED the end of the novel, The Stranger. I was waiting for Camus to get to the philosophical entailment for the 100 something pages since he said "Maman died today." The cliche yet reasonably overdone idea that one doesn't know what they have till it's gone is something I felt was very evident in the last few pages. One realizing they had made filling use of their time on Earth made the pessimistic ideology behind the story that much more beautiful. Being able to find a happy medium between seemingly negative existentialism and contentment with ones time on Earth appeals to a larger group of readers than Shakespeare's overbearing and overreaching existentialism (I'm sure time period has as play in it, as in Shakespeares time period it was also taken with a larger grain of salt). I'm in love with the reflective and yet oddly optimistic voice Meursault had towards the end of his life. I often think about how lucky I am, that under these circumstances, I was granted a life given to me by chance and random collisions of branching acts far outside of my direct lifestyle, yet play a vital role in my existence. I align myself with existentialism because of this thought process. The series of occurances that allowed me to be here today were anything but on purpose. For this, I loved the sequence of emotions Meursault was going through the last night or so of his time on Earth. Moreover, the emotions he felt made the novel more realistic as he often went back on the philosophies behind his typical existentialism; "But naturally, you can't always be reasonable" (reasonable implying existential). At times Meursault would wish he had more time, or could go back in time, although evidently he realizes this is absolutely no use and must accept his fate. The rules of the law were an external force, choosing his destiny for him. He was to die, at the hand of his own impulsive decisions, because the majority of the people in the courtroom saw no use in keeping him alive. This disillusion is where I sometimes get tripped up; I often go back and forth on if we are living in a libertarian-esque series of events or if our lives are strictly dependent on external forces, this being determinism. To a point, Meursault didn't have to shoot that man on the beach. Yet, he was born with the certain emotional triggers he was created with due to a chemical DNA structure in his brain, etc, etc, etc, etc. To this end, philosophy is a very difficult can of worms to uncover and constantly argue about, yet I loved the way Meursault was able to use his existentialism to find contentment, rather than demotivation in life itself.

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