Albert Camus <The Stranger>

As usual the formal education ended early. I went straight to a certain bookstore without hesitation. I had a partiality for that bookstore because it had a lot of foreign books unlike other bookstore. Ordinary stores had just them by the reason of formality. Booksellers seemed to be reluctant to display foreign books to provide an assortment. And moreover, the section would be almost filled with English exercise books, not foreign books. This bookstore had, however, the special, very large section for them. It was an enormous difference.

Each book was list by author's name. I just glanced over the title walking along the bookshelves because I didn't know what kind of books I want, I sometimes let my eyes rest on Poe, Stendhal, Hesse. But I couldn't decide things what I had to see now. I pulled out some books, and stowed them back again. On some passages within bookshelves were several women seated, obstructing the paths with their legs. What struck me about their behavior was not that they barred the paths to walk, but that how they could sit on the dirty ground. Anyway, I got up against them as if I was going to pass along the paths. But they didn't move an inch. They were so focused in their thoughts that they weren't even aware of me. Without moving a hair they were lowering her face on their books. For a second, I had the ridiculous feeling that they were here to reproach me. I took a detour.

It grew warm in fluorescent. I thought, however saving energy is necessary, this room temperature should fall more. As we saw the soldier during the war, people being sacrificed in the time of trouble are always weak common people. Now the high-ranking officials were enjoying their reading in their cool private offices. At that point, one man's name came into my sight. 'Albert Camus.' The name reminded me of the shock I received from his work. At that instance I was embarrassed because I shouldn't have thought that.

There were two translations from French to English. This version I bought was starting text by the word 'maman,' but the other started with 'mother.' I hesitated within them for some time. In the end I chose 'maman.' There wasn't a special reason. Maybe it was because of the book cover signifying the glare of sun which made Meursault kill Arab. I almost decided to buy it. However, before then, I should think about why I felt like reading this translation of 'The Stranger' that I'd ever read in Korean edition before. I thought about it; it didn't matter. "You don't have to justify yourself." Director's voice was heard. I bought this book, and left the bookstore.

You'll probably wonder how this writing can be on the report of 'The Stranger.' The book report you are thinking about probably will consist of the outline, plot, and impression on it. It'll be right among healthy people. But among the stranger, my way can be right. I felt I had to write like this. If you can understand this way, you probably have the understanding about the stranger, Meursault's way.

I came back home. I could feel myself getting tired. Suddenly, Night had fallen.