There’s a lot to unpack in this book.
I spend a lot of time thinking about death.
Does anyone remember that time when the government put us on semi house arrest for like a year because of a disease? And it sucked?
Albert Camus’s The Stranger may be a short novel, but it definitely packs a punch. An existential-dread-inducing punch but nevertheless a comforting one. It’ll make more sense when I explain that.
So, the narrator of this book is utterly unhinged.