According to a recent survey, one in four Americans didn’t read a book last year. As a public service, we look back on all the classics you only read the Cliffs Notes for.
So there’s this guy, Meursault. His mom just died, but he’s not too concerned: “Mother died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know.”
In case you couldn’t tell, that’s kind of a strange reaction. The death of a parent, kind of a big deal. He goes to his mom’s funeral, and all he can think about is the heat, which again, is kind of weird.
When Meursault comes back from the funeral, he hangs out with this girl Marie. Even though this book was written in the 1940s, it’s still pretty socially relevant. Their relationship is exactly like the one your best friend bitches about nonstop. They have good sex, she loves him but he’s like whatev. But unlike your best friend’s fuck buddy, he’s pretty upfront. When she asks him if he loves her, he says, “I told her it didn’t mean anything but that I didn’t think so.” Ouch, the truth hurts. Later Marie asks if Meursault wants to get marry, and he’s like, eh, but goes along with it anyway because Marie wants to.
