Finally, we went to York. This may have been the coolest part of the trip, although it is difficult to say what was really the best part.
First and foremost, if I say nothing else: the York Minster. Seriously. This was a fantastically beautiful building, full of all kinds of neat stuff. It was on that site, for instance, that Constantine was first proclaimed Emperor of Rome. It has been the site of no fewer than three major churches, culminating in the largest and most beautiful building for miles around. It still has a crypt and catacombs beneath the cathedral which you can explore, full of old Roman and Saxon artifacts. Also, you can climb to the top of the tower, (a seriously grueling ordeal. Like, seriously. Most of the time, when they say that climbing a tower is difficult, they're just being nice. This was hard.) which affords you a beautiful view, though one that is entirely caged in. I guess because they don't want people falling off the tallest building for miles around, they have caged up the entire roof of the tower.
Also in York, we went to a Castle Museum which contained all kinds of fun stuff about the history of England, and had the best dinner of the entire trip. Also, we went to the Jorvik Viking museum, which is pretty darn neat, (about the Viking community of Jorvik which became the town of York) though it's not very big. Depressingly not very big, in fact.
Finally, in York, I bought a new chess set. It's really pretty.
So, that's pretty much our trip. It was a great deal of fun, though not all of it tells all that well. (Waxing romantic about the fantastic chicken wrapped in bacon that I ate in York is cool and all, but isn't really why you're reading this blog, I presume).
Pictures will be up pretty soon, whenever Erin gets around to it. She took all the pictures, since she has the multi-thousand dollar camera, and it seemed silly to carry two cameras and thereby take the same pictures a dozen times.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Edinburgh
Next we spent a few days in Edinburgh.
Oxford is a very beautiful town, and until recently, I would have said it was the prettiest city I had ever been to. That has since changed. Edinburgh is unbelievably beautiful. Granted, it was also unbelievably cold, but there's only so much you can do about that. Our hotel was right next to the center of town, which was also very nice.
Edinburgh Castle is what all castles want to be. It's up on a massive hill in the middle of town, and is incredibly impressive. So, naturally, we went there first. They've got a good-sized war museum in the castle, which was pretty neat, especially all of the stuff about the history of the various Highland regiments. There is also a war monument pertaining especially to the First World War which was beautiful, and quite sobering.
They have a very large cannon that they fire once a day from the castle at 1:00 in the afternoon, and we were up there watching one day as they fired it. It's... very, very loud. Like, louder than that.
It's difficult to describe just how impressive the castle is. Here are some pictures, to try to give you the right impression.
While in Edinburgh, we also went to look at the Scottish National Gallery, which had some very impressive (and famous) paintings in it. One thing they had up was a collection of watercolor paintings by a man whose name I can't remember. I had never seen watercolor paintings that looked anything like this-- far from being washed-out and pale the way watercolors often look, they were impressively vivid and just generally quite impressive.
Also in Edinburgh, we went to a pub, where Erin had some of the best mussels of her life and I had a masterfully poured pint of Guinness. (As well as a hamburger which was pretty good.)
Also, we saw a statue of David Hume, which was pretty neat, since we're both big philosophy geeks. Less neat for the rest of you, who maybe don't care as much.
--Bill
Oxford is a very beautiful town, and until recently, I would have said it was the prettiest city I had ever been to. That has since changed. Edinburgh is unbelievably beautiful. Granted, it was also unbelievably cold, but there's only so much you can do about that. Our hotel was right next to the center of town, which was also very nice.
Edinburgh Castle is what all castles want to be. It's up on a massive hill in the middle of town, and is incredibly impressive. So, naturally, we went there first. They've got a good-sized war museum in the castle, which was pretty neat, especially all of the stuff about the history of the various Highland regiments. There is also a war monument pertaining especially to the First World War which was beautiful, and quite sobering.
They have a very large cannon that they fire once a day from the castle at 1:00 in the afternoon, and we were up there watching one day as they fired it. It's... very, very loud. Like, louder than that.
It's difficult to describe just how impressive the castle is. Here are some pictures, to try to give you the right impression.
While in Edinburgh, we also went to look at the Scottish National Gallery, which had some very impressive (and famous) paintings in it. One thing they had up was a collection of watercolor paintings by a man whose name I can't remember. I had never seen watercolor paintings that looked anything like this-- far from being washed-out and pale the way watercolors often look, they were impressively vivid and just generally quite impressive.
Also in Edinburgh, we went to a pub, where Erin had some of the best mussels of her life and I had a masterfully poured pint of Guinness. (As well as a hamburger which was pretty good.)
Also, we saw a statue of David Hume, which was pretty neat, since we're both big philosophy geeks. Less neat for the rest of you, who maybe don't care as much.
--Bill
Newcastle-upon-Tyne
From London we took a MegaBus (highly recommend it for anyone traveling in England, if you haven't already heard of it. It's hecka cheap and pretty nice) to Newcastle-upon-Tyne for a few days. We were theoretically going to try to meet up with a friend of mine there, but that ended up not working out, which was something of a shame.
Nevertheless, we had a fantastic time in Newcastle. We saw the Gateshead Millennium Bridge, which is really cool in person, particularly. You don't quite realize how big it is in the pictures. We didn't actually get to see it do its fabled opening or closing, but it is still quite an impressive structure.
We also saw the Angel of the North, which is also a very impressive thing in person. It's wider than the Statue of Liberty is tall.
We went to the Newcastle Keep, which is a section of a very old fortress that was pretty darn neat. It had been used in several battles for many years, and had a lot of pretty fun history behind it.
We also stopped by a children's book museum which wasn't, perhaps, quite as neat as we wanted it to be, but did have lots of copies of the original art from the Winnie the Pooh stories, as well as original draft pages and such from some Phillip Pullman books and the Pippi Longstocking books and similar fun things. It also had a whole floor dedicated to the Wind in the Willows, which was really neat.
Furthermore, we had some fantastic food in Newcastle. This was a recurring thing that we did. Fantastic food is an integral part of traveling, including one very nice dinner on the river with a fantastic view of the Millennium Bridge.
So, that was Newcastle, and we went from there to Edinburgh.
Nevertheless, we had a fantastic time in Newcastle. We saw the Gateshead Millennium Bridge, which is really cool in person, particularly. You don't quite realize how big it is in the pictures. We didn't actually get to see it do its fabled opening or closing, but it is still quite an impressive structure.
We also saw the Angel of the North, which is also a very impressive thing in person. It's wider than the Statue of Liberty is tall.
We went to the Newcastle Keep, which is a section of a very old fortress that was pretty darn neat. It had been used in several battles for many years, and had a lot of pretty fun history behind it.
We also stopped by a children's book museum which wasn't, perhaps, quite as neat as we wanted it to be, but did have lots of copies of the original art from the Winnie the Pooh stories, as well as original draft pages and such from some Phillip Pullman books and the Pippi Longstocking books and similar fun things. It also had a whole floor dedicated to the Wind in the Willows, which was really neat.
Furthermore, we had some fantastic food in Newcastle. This was a recurring thing that we did. Fantastic food is an integral part of traveling, including one very nice dinner on the river with a fantastic view of the Millennium Bridge.
So, that was Newcastle, and we went from there to Edinburgh.
New Year's Eve/Day in London
So, from the airport in Heathrow, we went back to Oxford for a day to get reorganized, and then went back to London to spend New Year's Eve in Trafalgar Square. Now, by, "spend New Year's Eve in Trafalgar Square," what I actually mean is "spend New Year's Eve in London, somewhere within shouting distance of Trafalgar Square," as we actually ended up hanging out by Big Ben during the fireworks show and the moment when 2009 occurred.
In the first place: there were more people in London at this time than I have ever before seen in one place in my life. Seriously. Like, after we were done, they had to herd us like cattle. At one point, the crowd started to get nervous, and I feared for my life, that they might make a mistake, and I might be crushed to death beneath hordes of rampaging Londoners. You think I'm kidding, but I'm really not. You couldn't move your arms, it was so crowded. It took three hours to get from Big Ben to the nearest Underground Station, which might be a quarter of a mile away. It was ridiculous.
The reason we went there is that they have a gigantic fireworks display over the London Eye (the largest Ferris wheel in Europe, and the largest in the world until 2008). We missed about the bottom half of the fireworks display, because where we were, there was a very large building between us and the Eye, but we still saw the rest of it. It was arguably the niftiest fireworks display I have ever seen in my life, and I've seen some nifty fireworks displays in my time.
Also of note was the fact that we heard Big Ben ring in the New Year, which was pretty darn cool indeed.
(Aside, for V for Vendetta fans-- whenever I see the Houses of Parliament, the 1812 Overture goes through my head. Does this make me a bad person?)
As another interesting note, Capitalism fails in Britain. Here we had the largest crowd of people I have ever seen in my life, and except for a few Asian people selling glowing baby pacifiers, (?) nobody was selling nothing. We later learned that the lack of alcohol was due to the fact that 20 years ago, there was an alcohol-related incident at Trafalgar Square which resulted in a few people dying. Thus, they made it illegal to sell/bring in your own alcohol. The former didn't happen. The latter did happen.
Nevertheless, it made me sad. Were this in America, there would have been stands selling anything you could possibly imagine in that area. Hot dogs? Right over there. Coke? Right over there. Obscure Greek sculpture? Two of them over by that building. Face painting? About every thirty feet. So, that was a note of cultural difference.
The next day, we wandered around London for a while and had some good food, and then went to a showing of Chicago that evening. Though there was something incongruous about going to see a show about an American city in London, it was the most interesting show that was showing on New Year's Eve. It was a lot of fun-- the music in the show is pretty fun, and the band was absolutely fantastic.
So, that wrapped up our two days in London.
In the first place: there were more people in London at this time than I have ever before seen in one place in my life. Seriously. Like, after we were done, they had to herd us like cattle. At one point, the crowd started to get nervous, and I feared for my life, that they might make a mistake, and I might be crushed to death beneath hordes of rampaging Londoners. You think I'm kidding, but I'm really not. You couldn't move your arms, it was so crowded. It took three hours to get from Big Ben to the nearest Underground Station, which might be a quarter of a mile away. It was ridiculous.
The reason we went there is that they have a gigantic fireworks display over the London Eye (the largest Ferris wheel in Europe, and the largest in the world until 2008). We missed about the bottom half of the fireworks display, because where we were, there was a very large building between us and the Eye, but we still saw the rest of it. It was arguably the niftiest fireworks display I have ever seen in my life, and I've seen some nifty fireworks displays in my time.
Also of note was the fact that we heard Big Ben ring in the New Year, which was pretty darn cool indeed.
(Aside, for V for Vendetta fans-- whenever I see the Houses of Parliament, the 1812 Overture goes through my head. Does this make me a bad person?)
As another interesting note, Capitalism fails in Britain. Here we had the largest crowd of people I have ever seen in my life, and except for a few Asian people selling glowing baby pacifiers, (?) nobody was selling nothing. We later learned that the lack of alcohol was due to the fact that 20 years ago, there was an alcohol-related incident at Trafalgar Square which resulted in a few people dying. Thus, they made it illegal to sell/bring in your own alcohol. The former didn't happen. The latter did happen.
Nevertheless, it made me sad. Were this in America, there would have been stands selling anything you could possibly imagine in that area. Hot dogs? Right over there. Coke? Right over there. Obscure Greek sculpture? Two of them over by that building. Face painting? About every thirty feet. So, that was a note of cultural difference.
The next day, we wandered around London for a while and had some good food, and then went to a showing of Chicago that evening. Though there was something incongruous about going to see a show about an American city in London, it was the most interesting show that was showing on New Year's Eve. It was a lot of fun-- the music in the show is pretty fun, and the band was absolutely fantastic.
So, that wrapped up our two days in London.
Airport Story
So, technically, before I get started in London, I have a small, but neat story to tell about the airport in Dallas/Ft. Worth. A while ago, I had managed to wash my poor ol' iPod Nano that I had bought just after high school, and it didn't make it. RIP iPod. I went iPodless for a good time, but then, what did I see in Dallas/Ft. Worth but a vending machine full of iPods and PSPs?
Now, my initial thought was that these iPods and such would be ludicrously expensive. It's a vending machine in a freaking airport, after all. But then, much to my surprise, I take a closer look and realize that they're selling 6G iPod Nanos for $149.99, exactly the same price that they're selling them for online! So... needless to say, I bought one. It was the niftiest, most futuristic vending machine I had ever seen... it picked it up with this neat little arm thing and then shifted it over and dumped it gently into the slot.
Overall, it reminded me that I live in the 21st century. I just bought a portable music player smaller than my hand with a hard drive that can hold more memory than every computer they used in the moon landings for less than $200.00 out of a vending machine in the airport. Pretty dang awesome, if I may say so myself.
Now, my initial thought was that these iPods and such would be ludicrously expensive. It's a vending machine in a freaking airport, after all. But then, much to my surprise, I take a closer look and realize that they're selling 6G iPod Nanos for $149.99, exactly the same price that they're selling them for online! So... needless to say, I bought one. It was the niftiest, most futuristic vending machine I had ever seen... it picked it up with this neat little arm thing and then shifted it over and dumped it gently into the slot.
Overall, it reminded me that I live in the 21st century. I just bought a portable music player smaller than my hand with a hard drive that can hold more memory than every computer they used in the moon landings for less than $200.00 out of a vending machine in the airport. Pretty dang awesome, if I may say so myself.
Finally...
Okay, kids, saddle up. Here follows a series of updates on my adventures the last few weeks. In general, here's what went on:
Erin and I went traveling all around Britain, starting with spending New Year's Eve in London, at Trafalgar Square. (My original plans, to go to Hogmanay in Edinburgh, ended up falling through). From here, we went to Newcastle-upon-Tyne for three or four days, and then Edinburgh for two days, and then York for three days. Then we came back to Oxford and started with the whole "studies" thing. I'm also going to talk a little bit about a play that we went to go see the other day that was absolutely fantastic.
So... yeah. Four updates coming in the next few minutes.
--Bill
Erin and I went traveling all around Britain, starting with spending New Year's Eve in London, at Trafalgar Square. (My original plans, to go to Hogmanay in Edinburgh, ended up falling through). From here, we went to Newcastle-upon-Tyne for three or four days, and then Edinburgh for two days, and then York for three days. Then we came back to Oxford and started with the whole "studies" thing. I'm also going to talk a little bit about a play that we went to go see the other day that was absolutely fantastic.
So... yeah. Four updates coming in the next few minutes.
--Bill
Friday, January 30, 2009
The Woman In Black
About two weeks ago, the Warners took us to go see a fantastic play called The Woman In Black. It's a two-man ghost story (with a few small appearances by one female actor) which is both terrifying and fantastically clever. It's based on a novel which apparently was pretty famous a while ago, but I had never heard of it before.
At any rate, the basic premise is that this lawyer went out to a small British town to set this crazy old widow's affairs in order after she had died and spends a few days in her house by himself... as you can imagine, the house is very, very haunted, and he learns this, much to his dismay. Many years later (this is the start of the play) he feels he has to tell the story to someone, and hires a young, hotshot actor to play the part in a small play that he's putting on (it's a strange sort of play-within-a-play thing that works really well). The majority of the play consists of the first full-through rehearsal of the thing, with the hotshot actor playing the part of the lawyer, and the old lawyer himself playing every other part in the show except for the ghost, the titular Woman In Black.
The show was absolutely terrifying. Like, I mean it. Brilliantly directed, well-acted, and the lighting was unbelievable. I don't want to spoil anything, since it's doing well enough that it is very possible that you might someday get a chance to go see a production of it. If you do get a chance, go to it. It's fantastic.
--Bill
At any rate, the basic premise is that this lawyer went out to a small British town to set this crazy old widow's affairs in order after she had died and spends a few days in her house by himself... as you can imagine, the house is very, very haunted, and he learns this, much to his dismay. Many years later (this is the start of the play) he feels he has to tell the story to someone, and hires a young, hotshot actor to play the part in a small play that he's putting on (it's a strange sort of play-within-a-play thing that works really well). The majority of the play consists of the first full-through rehearsal of the thing, with the hotshot actor playing the part of the lawyer, and the old lawyer himself playing every other part in the show except for the ghost, the titular Woman In Black.
The show was absolutely terrifying. Like, I mean it. Brilliantly directed, well-acted, and the lighting was unbelievable. I don't want to spoil anything, since it's doing well enough that it is very possible that you might someday get a chance to go see a production of it. If you do get a chance, go to it. It's fantastic.
--Bill
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Oops.
So... I know I promised some of you that there would be blog postings this evening about the last several weeks of my life...
But I had kind of a complicated day, and by the time I sat down to write about my holiday, I really couldn't even string together a coherent sentence. I've spent most of the day arguing about various complicated things, and I'm kind of mentally spent, as a result.
so... still to come, I promise, but probably not until tomorrow. If you're still following, thank you very much!
--Bill
But I had kind of a complicated day, and by the time I sat down to write about my holiday, I really couldn't even string together a coherent sentence. I've spent most of the day arguing about various complicated things, and I'm kind of mentally spent, as a result.
so... still to come, I promise, but probably not until tomorrow. If you're still following, thank you very much!
--Bill
Friday, November 14, 2008
Hamlet
Just last Tuesday, I went on one of the most nifty theatre trips I will ever go on. I got to see Hamlet, in Stratford, with David Tennant as Hamlet and Patrick Freaking Stewart as Claudius. It was an absolutely fantastic performance... Tennant was wonderful as Hamlet, and Stewart gave a really great performance as Claudius, although it was a bit more toned-down than you might expect from seeing some of Stewart's other work. This was a much calmer, more detached Claudius than some... and it worked really, really well.
Most of the time, the set was just a blank, primarily circular stage, with a whole row of mirrors behind it. When Hamlet kills Polonius from behind the tapestry, Polonius is actually hiding behind one of the mirrors, and Hamlet shoots him, which shatters a few of the mirrors. The mirrors stay shattered throughout the rest of the play.
The director made some odd choices I wasn't sure I agreed with-- Ophelia may not be the best part in Shakespeare, but you can usually make her a lot more sympathetic than they chose to do here-- she just kinda went crazy for no reason, and they didn't play up her attachment to her father, her brother, or Hamlet really at all. And Gertrude also wasn't given as much time to shine as they might have, but, again, I suspect that was all the director's fault, rather than the actors'.
And, yeah, I have been within 20 ft. of Patrick Freaking Stewart. My friend Taylor actually got a high five from him. I shook Taylor's hand, which is sort of like shaking Patrick Stewart's hand... I may never wash this hand again.
Most of the time, the set was just a blank, primarily circular stage, with a whole row of mirrors behind it. When Hamlet kills Polonius from behind the tapestry, Polonius is actually hiding behind one of the mirrors, and Hamlet shoots him, which shatters a few of the mirrors. The mirrors stay shattered throughout the rest of the play.
The director made some odd choices I wasn't sure I agreed with-- Ophelia may not be the best part in Shakespeare, but you can usually make her a lot more sympathetic than they chose to do here-- she just kinda went crazy for no reason, and they didn't play up her attachment to her father, her brother, or Hamlet really at all. And Gertrude also wasn't given as much time to shine as they might have, but, again, I suspect that was all the director's fault, rather than the actors'.
And, yeah, I have been within 20 ft. of Patrick Freaking Stewart. My friend Taylor actually got a high five from him. I shook Taylor's hand, which is sort of like shaking Patrick Stewart's hand... I may never wash this hand again.
Existentialism Paper IV: The Outsider
This paper dealt with Albert Camus' The Outsider (or The Stranger, depending your translator, and originally L'Etranger, in French). This is another important novel in the Existentialist tradition, though, once again, as with Nausea, I found myself having a hard time understanding why anyone would ever want to be an existentialist after reading this novel. I kinda like existentialism, and might even go so far as to say I am an existentialist, but, man, these guys make me not want to be one. The hero, Meursalt, is so apathetic, and so much of a jerk, that I don't care if he's authentic to himself or not.
Existentialist literature serves primarily as a way for its authors to examine their philosophy in a real-world context. Through these novels and plays, the authors can simulate what it would be like to truly live the existentialist life in a real context. Albert Camus' The Outsider serves this purpose as well-- it attempts to provide a coherent image of the life of one existentialist, Meursalt, and his dealings with the world around him. Meursalt is the Outsider in the story, a man who cannot relate to the rest of the people near him, and as he is eventually executed due to this alien status, he has been characterized by some as being something like an existential martyr. As martyrdom, however, implies a devotion to a higher cause, it may seem like a strange word to use in an existential context. There are no "higher causes" in existentialism, so to say that a man is sacrificing himself for one would indicate that he is not a very good existentialist. It is, therefore, the purpose of this paper to examine Meursalt's actions from an existentialist perspective, and then decide whether or not this title of "existential martyr" is a fitting one or not.
The story begins with the death of Meursalt's mother. She has been ill for some time, and he has placed her in a nursing home in the country. Meursalt does not respond to this death in anything like the usual manner. He seems entirely unaffected by it, and to almost view it as trivial. He is not even quite sure when it happened-- the first words of the novel are "Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don't know," (Camus 9). Meursalt then travels to the nursing home for the funeral, where he is again characterized by a general lack of sorrow or emotion over the death of his mother. While he and a few of the nursing home residents are supposed to be staying up all night in the room with her coffin, he finds himself falling asleep and smoking cigarettes. He does not shed a single tear at the funeral, and on his way home, the only thing going through his head is that he "was going to go to bed and sleep for a whole twelve hours," (Camus 22). The next day finds him swimming in the ocean and initiating a tryst with a girl he fancies, as though nothing had happened the previous day.
A few days later finds him tangled up in a murder case-- a friend of his has gotten into some trouble with a group of Arabs, and, at the end of a very confusing day, Meursalt shoots and kills one. It is a bit ambiguous whether or not Meursalt is justified in the murder, and the murder itself is not actually particularly relevant in the context of Meursalt as an existentialist. What matters is his reaction to the murder. Once again, he is not really bothered by it. When asked if he regrets the murder, he responds that "rather than true regret, I felt a kind of annoyance," (Camus 69). Throughout his trial, he is again and again faced with situations where he is asked fairly commonplace questions, and he gives extraordinary answers, answers that make him appear to be inhuman by the standards of his day. Finally, after deciding that he is a menace to society and a murderer, and frightened of his apparent apathy towards the murder and his mother's death, the judge and the jury order him executed. Meursalt accepts this knowledge without a moment's hesitation, and then proceeds to live his last days in his jail cell, apathetic to the end, refusing to see the Chaplain and refusing to help his appeal by way of cooperation at all.
The thing about Meursalt which makes him an existentialist, and the thing which frightens his peers so much, is that he always tells the truth. It is a fairly well-known fact that when a law enforcement officer who may have some hand in determining whether or not you should convicted of murder asks you if you feel regret for having killed the man you killed, you really ought to say "yes," regardless of whether or not you do. It makes you appear more sympathetic to the magistrate, as though you regret your mistake, and wish it had been otherwise. When a loved one dies, even if you are not particularly affected, it is expected that you take on a more somber air for a certain amount of time. But Meursalt, when placed in these situations, refuses to lie to the people around him. He does not feel any particularly strong sorrow or sadness at his mother's death, and so he feels no reason to pretend that he does. The murder and subsequent trial also do not particularly bother him, and so he does not pretend to be wracked with guilt or remorseful. He does not believe in God, and so when the Chaplain comes to him, he refuses to speak with him. On a smaller note, when his girlfriend asks him if he loves her, he responds that "it didn't mean anything, but I don't think so," (Camus 38). Anyone who has ever been in a relationship knows that this is a dangerous thing to say, but Meursalt simply does not feel any need to lie. He does not particularly love Marie-- he thinks she is pretty, and he would not necessarily mind marrying her, but he feels no overwhelming and special attraction to her.
It is this truth-telling which is his undoing. Camus makes it very clear throughout the novel that as there is no evidence in the case to really support whether or not Meursalt was justified in killing the Arab, the trial has essentially become a trial of character. The prosecuting attorney spends far more time discussing Meursalt's lack of emotion at his mother's funeral than he does Meursalt's supposedly premeditated murder. So it is in Meursalt's best interest, if he wishes to be acquitted of the charge, to put on a good show, and pretend to be whatever sort of human being will get him out of the whole mess he is in. It would be better for him not to say that he does not regret the murder, or that his mother's death did not particularly bother him, or that he does not really know why he killed the man. It would be better for him to lie about his feelings, and pretend to be the man they want him to be. But Meursalt is an existentialist, and feels that to lie about such things would be to lie to himself, and he therefore chooses to remain entirely truthful to himself and to behave entirely authentically.
It is a choice that, ultimately, leads to his public execution via guillotine. Had he appeared repentant after the trial, when the Chaplain came to visit him, he might even then have gotten his sentence reduced merely to a time in prison, or he might have succeeded in appealing the verdict. But because he refuses to "play the game," as Camus himself put it in the Afterword, , his society think she is dangerous, and decides to put an end to him (118). It is in this sense, then, that Meursalt can be understood as something of a martyr. Although he is not dying for some "high cause," such as the liberation of a country or a religious ideal, it is his refusal to compromise his own feelings and bow to the will of his society that causes his eventual death. Because he insists on acting authentically and in an existential manner, he is put to death. He martyrs himself both for his own cause, and, arguably, for the cause of existentialism as a whole.
Existentialist literature serves primarily as a way for its authors to examine their philosophy in a real-world context. Through these novels and plays, the authors can simulate what it would be like to truly live the existentialist life in a real context. Albert Camus' The Outsider serves this purpose as well-- it attempts to provide a coherent image of the life of one existentialist, Meursalt, and his dealings with the world around him. Meursalt is the Outsider in the story, a man who cannot relate to the rest of the people near him, and as he is eventually executed due to this alien status, he has been characterized by some as being something like an existential martyr. As martyrdom, however, implies a devotion to a higher cause, it may seem like a strange word to use in an existential context. There are no "higher causes" in existentialism, so to say that a man is sacrificing himself for one would indicate that he is not a very good existentialist. It is, therefore, the purpose of this paper to examine Meursalt's actions from an existentialist perspective, and then decide whether or not this title of "existential martyr" is a fitting one or not.
The story begins with the death of Meursalt's mother. She has been ill for some time, and he has placed her in a nursing home in the country. Meursalt does not respond to this death in anything like the usual manner. He seems entirely unaffected by it, and to almost view it as trivial. He is not even quite sure when it happened-- the first words of the novel are "Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don't know," (Camus 9). Meursalt then travels to the nursing home for the funeral, where he is again characterized by a general lack of sorrow or emotion over the death of his mother. While he and a few of the nursing home residents are supposed to be staying up all night in the room with her coffin, he finds himself falling asleep and smoking cigarettes. He does not shed a single tear at the funeral, and on his way home, the only thing going through his head is that he "was going to go to bed and sleep for a whole twelve hours," (Camus 22). The next day finds him swimming in the ocean and initiating a tryst with a girl he fancies, as though nothing had happened the previous day.
A few days later finds him tangled up in a murder case-- a friend of his has gotten into some trouble with a group of Arabs, and, at the end of a very confusing day, Meursalt shoots and kills one. It is a bit ambiguous whether or not Meursalt is justified in the murder, and the murder itself is not actually particularly relevant in the context of Meursalt as an existentialist. What matters is his reaction to the murder. Once again, he is not really bothered by it. When asked if he regrets the murder, he responds that "rather than true regret, I felt a kind of annoyance," (Camus 69). Throughout his trial, he is again and again faced with situations where he is asked fairly commonplace questions, and he gives extraordinary answers, answers that make him appear to be inhuman by the standards of his day. Finally, after deciding that he is a menace to society and a murderer, and frightened of his apparent apathy towards the murder and his mother's death, the judge and the jury order him executed. Meursalt accepts this knowledge without a moment's hesitation, and then proceeds to live his last days in his jail cell, apathetic to the end, refusing to see the Chaplain and refusing to help his appeal by way of cooperation at all.
The thing about Meursalt which makes him an existentialist, and the thing which frightens his peers so much, is that he always tells the truth. It is a fairly well-known fact that when a law enforcement officer who may have some hand in determining whether or not you should convicted of murder asks you if you feel regret for having killed the man you killed, you really ought to say "yes," regardless of whether or not you do. It makes you appear more sympathetic to the magistrate, as though you regret your mistake, and wish it had been otherwise. When a loved one dies, even if you are not particularly affected, it is expected that you take on a more somber air for a certain amount of time. But Meursalt, when placed in these situations, refuses to lie to the people around him. He does not feel any particularly strong sorrow or sadness at his mother's death, and so he feels no reason to pretend that he does. The murder and subsequent trial also do not particularly bother him, and so he does not pretend to be wracked with guilt or remorseful. He does not believe in God, and so when the Chaplain comes to him, he refuses to speak with him. On a smaller note, when his girlfriend asks him if he loves her, he responds that "it didn't mean anything, but I don't think so," (Camus 38). Anyone who has ever been in a relationship knows that this is a dangerous thing to say, but Meursalt simply does not feel any need to lie. He does not particularly love Marie-- he thinks she is pretty, and he would not necessarily mind marrying her, but he feels no overwhelming and special attraction to her.
It is this truth-telling which is his undoing. Camus makes it very clear throughout the novel that as there is no evidence in the case to really support whether or not Meursalt was justified in killing the Arab, the trial has essentially become a trial of character. The prosecuting attorney spends far more time discussing Meursalt's lack of emotion at his mother's funeral than he does Meursalt's supposedly premeditated murder. So it is in Meursalt's best interest, if he wishes to be acquitted of the charge, to put on a good show, and pretend to be whatever sort of human being will get him out of the whole mess he is in. It would be better for him not to say that he does not regret the murder, or that his mother's death did not particularly bother him, or that he does not really know why he killed the man. It would be better for him to lie about his feelings, and pretend to be the man they want him to be. But Meursalt is an existentialist, and feels that to lie about such things would be to lie to himself, and he therefore chooses to remain entirely truthful to himself and to behave entirely authentically.
It is a choice that, ultimately, leads to his public execution via guillotine. Had he appeared repentant after the trial, when the Chaplain came to visit him, he might even then have gotten his sentence reduced merely to a time in prison, or he might have succeeded in appealing the verdict. But because he refuses to "play the game," as Camus himself put it in the Afterword, , his society think she is dangerous, and decides to put an end to him (118). It is in this sense, then, that Meursalt can be understood as something of a martyr. Although he is not dying for some "high cause," such as the liberation of a country or a religious ideal, it is his refusal to compromise his own feelings and bow to the will of his society that causes his eventual death. Because he insists on acting authentically and in an existential manner, he is put to death. He martyrs himself both for his own cause, and, arguably, for the cause of existentialism as a whole.
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