Extraordinarily well-written novella with a strangely relatable protagonist. I'm not sure I've read one like him, presented with so little judgement. Meursault seems to have real difficulty with any but the most superficial human connection, yet his attachment to the act of living - his response to heat and endings - is profound. And the prose here is beautiful - I'm reading the story in translation, of course, so I don't know how much is down to Camus and how much to Smith - but it's abnormally smooth and easy to swallow.