This story is based on The Stranger by Albert Camus. It takes place sometime before the events of the book, when the narrator is obliged to attend an outdoor party to celebrate the birth of his cousin's child. Since I'm writing this as part of a school project, I would REALLY appreciate any criticism you might offer. Please please please review and tell me what you think. Thanks.
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On Saturday my cousin's wife had a baby. Ordinarily this would have been of no great importance to me; however, Mother wasn't feeling well and insisted that I attend my cousin's celebration party in her place. As I had nothing really important to do Sunday, I agreed.
I did not awaken any earlier than usual. It was already after eleven o'clock when I rose, and since it took me about an hour to dress and eat, I was ready to leave sometime after noon. I got in the cab and Mother gave the driver the name of the park I was going to, which was really very thoughtful of her since I'm sure I had already forgotten it. When I arrived, my cousin rushed up to me and threw his arms round my neck before I'd even had time to close the cab door behind me. This took me rather by surprise, as my cousin and I had never been particularly close and the last time I'd seen him was at his father's funeral, I think, about two years ago. I started to greet him but noticed with some puzzlement that I had forgotten his given name.
Luckily he didn't press me to talk much. He just led me over to where his wife was reclining on a sort of outdoor chaise, batting her eyelashes fetchingly at everyone who passed. "How do you do, Cousin?" she murmured weakly. She seemed to distinctly enjoy giving the impression of convalescence, and I had the disagreeable notion that perhaps she had had the baby expressly for this purpose - to entertain friends and family with her condition.
Mother had asked me to be polite to the poor woman after what she'd been through, so I opened my mouth in the hopes that something civil would come out. Luck was with me, and I said, "You look wonderful today; one would hardly guess that you spent yesterday delivering a child."
This remark, though, drew my attention to her already-flattened stomach, no doubt held in by a stiff whalebone cage. It was all I could do not to shudder and turn away.
My cousin, with his arm about my shoulders, propelled me to a festive white tandem. He demanded that I look inside and began talking rapidly and thickly, several times making reference to his "pride and joy" that lay within.
It struck me as silly for him to call the little wrinkled thing on the pillow his "pride and joy". My assumption was that the child had pained my cousin's wife during birth and harassed the household all night with crying. So far it certainly had not done anything that could evoke pride or joy in anybody. But I suppose my cousin had his reasons; at least, he certainly believed he did. For I saw that he was crying a little as he watched me watch the baby, so I was careful to smile and assure him that I was very happy for him and his wife.
After he left me I spent a few minutes wandering about. I soon discovered a path which the family apparently did not frequent, and went for a walk alone. It was quiet in my corner of the park; so quiet, indeed, that I thought I ought not to be crushing the grass underfoot, as it seemed so unaccustomed to being walked over, but eventually I overcame the feeling and continued on my way.
Although the sun was warm, the air was cool; a slight breeze was just starting to rustle the branches of the trees. For some reason the scene seemed to warrant a draft of falling leaves that would swirl dryly through the air, and I think I waited patiently for such an apparition for some minutes without really being aware of what I was waiting for.
Finally I decided I was quite finished with the little garden party. The only reason I had come, really, was to fulfill my promise to Mother. So now that I had walked all I felt I wanted to walk on this particular day, it was time for me to go.
I knew I would have to say goodbye to my cousin and his wife, and this idea for some reason disturbed me. I seriously considered scurrying away without first taking my leave, but somehow I felt that this would be inexcusably rude since the day meant so much to the couple.
I found my cousin and was caught in another tight embrace. He thanked me over and over for coming, to which I only replied time and again that it had been my pleasure - an automatic response drummed into me long ago by Mother.
To his flat-stomached wife, I merely nodded and bowed. "Good day, Madame, and I wish all future happiness for you and your child." It was the most poetic and correct thing I could think of at a moment's notice, and in any case it seemed to please her absolutely. Her shadowed eyes widened and she curved her red lips at me in a surprised smile. "Thank you, Cousin," she whispered tremulously.
As I left, I was struck with a sudden urge to scream "FIRE!" or some such nonsense, to somehow invent an emergency that would compel the lady to rise. I did not like her lying there white and still, a porcelain image of motherhood.
It was only as I got back into my cab that I thought of the baby. Mother was sure to ask whether it was a boy, and I thought I remembered them telling me that it was. I felt a little odd to think that I didn't even know its name, as the whole party was in its honor and I had barely said two words to it.
I seriously considered telling the cab driver to turn around so that I could go back one more time and pay another visit to the infant, but then I decided that it didn't really matter. After all, the baby wouldn't understand my presence or my purpose, and even if it did it would probably only laugh at me.
The warm darkness of the carriage dulled my senses and gave my mind over to fanciful images. I wondered vaguely what the baby would have said if I had spoken to it at length. "Do you know why we are having a party?" It would ask me.
"They are celebrating because you are born."
"What is born?"
That gave me pause. "Born is introduced to life," I told the child in my imagination.
"Ah, but what is life?" Asked the baby. "And more importantly, why is it cause for celebration?"
Immediately, for no reason I could explain, I became irritated by my mental dialog. "What a silly question," I said aloud. Certainly, the topic might interest me further if I were to think about it on a different day, perhaps indoors or while drinking wine. But here, in the dark carriage on this golden afternoon, I did not like the thoughts it provoked. So I stored it away in a convenient corner of my mind for further exploration at a later date, and wondered instead what Mother had prepared for my dinner that evening.
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So, what did you think? Tell me whether I got inside the narrator's head right and whether I imitated the book's style closely enough. Or just tell me whatever you want. Please review!
Thanks for reading.
:o)