I completed the Matthew Ward translation of Albert Camus’s The Stranger over the weekend. More specifically, I started it late-ish Saturday night and finished it just past midnight. It was an easy enough book to read, but I’m not sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, I really can’t identify with Meursault at all, and I just plain don’t like him; that’s definitely a strike against the book, considering how it’s his story and narration. On the other hand, it did provoke thought about the theory of the absurd, and Camus does do a nice job in bringing the character and his philosophy to life.
I do wonder how much gets lost in the translation, though. I’m one of those people who wishes she could read every language just so she can read original texts; having grown up in a practically trilingual household, where my parents tend to code-switch, and having dabbled in a couple of other languages myself, I’m all too familiar with just how poorly some words and concepts translate. Heck, I even buy the UK editions of Harry Potter, because I can read British English perfectly well and the US versions of the earlier novels change enough things to drive me batty. So if I read French well enough, I’d totally read The Stranger in its original language.
All in all, it’s not a bad book, and I’d say it’s worth a read, but I don’t particularly like it.
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