THE MEURSAULT INVESTIGATION

One of the most influential books of my young adulthood was Albert Camus' The Stranger. I have read the book over twenty times and even read the original French version on one occasion. The book is told from the perspective of a pied noir, or French Algerian colonist, named Meursault and depicts his mostly impersonal existence. It is only after Meursault kills an unnamed Arab for no apparent good reason and is sentenced to death that he comes to realize that he is alive and that our lives have consequences. Just before death, Meursault realizes that many our hopes and dreams are looked upon indifferently by the Universe (i.e God), and that we have only one life to live.

The Stranger is spartan in its writing, but it leaves the reader with many questions about his/her place in this world. Indeed, many consider it the best existentialist novel ever written, and this book is credited for the Nobel Committee's decision to award Camus the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1957.

It is not uncommon for great works of literary fiction to be accompanied by controversy. Mostly, these controversies center around the author rather than the content of a decades-old book. However, every now and then a work comes along that challenges the neat order of a great work of fiction like The Stranger.  Kamel Daoud's The Meursault Investigation is exactly that type of book.

Rather than serving as a rebuttal, The Meursault Investigation is more of a retelling of The Stranger. In Daoud's book the narrator is Harun (Aaron) the brother of the Arab killed in The Stranger. That dead man had a name-Musa(Moses), and Daoud seeks to explain how Musa's death had implications far beyond Meursault's prison sentence and ultimate execution. Harun's mother's life and his own are turned upside down by the killing, and they leave Algiers for Oran. Harun comes of age after the murder, and his mother's indifference and inability to cope with Musa's death severely impacts her ability to parent and care for her son.

In the new book, Harun tells the story of his life, Musa's life, and his mom's life to a stranger in a restaurant/bar. We see the toll that the French colonialist took on Algerian life as exemplified by Musa's senseless killing. Despite the connection to The Stranger, the book is told more in the style of Camus' The Fall-confessional but also seeking to engender empathy and complicity from the reader.

I was expecting this book to be an indictment of Camus and the West and Harun to one become a radical. However, the true tragedy of this novel is that after surviving the French occupation and gaining independence, Algerians like Harun must now cope with an even worse threat-Fundamentalist Muslims who do not agree with Harun's consumption of alcohol or religious and political moderation.  The narrator clearly laments what has become of his life and his country.

It is in this same environment that the author-a journalist in Oran-lives today. According to a wonderful New York Times review of his book, Daoud was sanctioned with a fatwah by a Muslim cleric after this book's publication, but Daoud soldiers on.  He apparently lives by the words of another Algerian writer Tahar Djaout who faced a similar sanction and who was ultimately murdered in the 1990s. Djaout wrote, "If you speak, you die. If you don't speak, you die. So, speak and die." I thank Daoud for speaking because his words have so much meaning and have helped me to see The Stranger in a much clearer and empathic light.