The next day a lawyer came to see me at the prison. He was short and chubby, quite young, his hair carefully slicked back. Despite the heat (I was in my shirtsleeves), he had on a dark suit, a wing collar, and an odd-looking tie with broad black and white stripes. He put the briefcase he was carrying down on my bed, introduced himself, and said he had gone over my file. My case was a tricky one, but he had no doubts we'd win, if I trusted him. I thanked him and he said, 'Let's get down to business.'

He sat down on the bed and explained to me that there had been some investigations into my private life. it had been learned that my mother had died recently at the home. Inquiries had then been made in Marengo. The investigators had learned that I had 'shown insensitivity' the day of Maman's funeral. 'You understand,' my lawyer said, 'it's a little embarrassing for me to have to ask you this. But it's very important. And it will be a strong prosecution if I can't come up with some answers.' He wanted me to help him. He asked if I had felt any sadness that day. The question caught me by surprise and it seemed to me that I would have been very embarrassed if I'd had to ask it. Nevertheless, I answered that I had pretty much lost the habit of analyzing myself and that it was hard for me to tell him what he wanted to know. I probably did love Maman, but that didn’t mean anything. At one time or another all normal people have wished that their loved ones were dead. Here the lawyer interrupted me and he seemed very upset. He made me promise I wouldn’t say that at my hearing or in front of the examining magistrate. I explained to him, however, that my nature was such that my physical needs often got in the way of my feelings. the day I buried Maman, I was very tired and sleepy, so much so that I wasn’t really aware of what was going on. What I can say for certain is that I would rather Maman hadn't died. But my lawyer didn’t seem satisfied. He said, 'That's not enough.'

He thought for a minute. He asked me if he could say that that day I had held back my natural feelings. I said, 'No, because it's not true.' He gave me a strange look, as if he found me slightly disgusting. He told me in an almost snide way that in any case the director and the staff of the home would be called as witnesses and that 'things could get very nasty' for me. I pointed out to him that none of this had anything to do with me case, but all he said was that it was obvious I had never had any dealings with the law.

Here's another book I would have read in the French class I mentioned.

I know L'etranger is well-known and that most Americans read it in high-school, but I'd never read it before.

I must say that I didn't enjoy the writing style. While it was clear and concise, it was also blunt and didn't flow well. Then again, I assume that was on purpose. The character, tho not loveable, is also ordinary. Even though he's slightly on the extreme, I like the notion of living the life we have. Not worrying too much about what could have been and what we had the potential to be. While I like the idea of not getting hung up on everything, I don't think I can ever follow this existentialist concept.

Either way, this unusual and well-told story is well-worth the time as it makes you think for a long time after you're done reading.