Sometimes the most simple parts of a book are also the most moving. In The Plague, a traveler named Tarrou is trapped in Oran after the quarantine takes effect. He takes up residence in a hotel across the street from the apartment of an old man. Each day, this dapper old man steps out on to the balcony of his apartment and calls for some of the cats sleeping on the street. As they become interested in him for various reasons, he spits at them, overjoyed "whenever a liquid missile hit the quarry" (24).
Initially, this old man's game made little sense to me. Why should he be needlessly cruel to the cats who were enjoying their nap beneath his window? Then I realized that it was something of a game between him and the cats. They had no obligation to return to his window each day, and yet there they were. This game had become a routine for both parties. After all, when the cats are enticed by the plague rats and run off to eat them, the man is distressed - he looks less polished than usual, and Tarrou notes that he seems worried. After that, the story moves on, and so I did as well.
Later on, however, we return to the old man on the balcony. Now the plague is at its peak in Oran, and everyone is afraid. One morning, there are gunshots in the streets, and all of the cats that used to sleep beneath the window are either dead or frightened off. The old man appears at the balcony at his usual time to discover that there are no more cats, and this greatly concerns him. He waits fretfully on the balcony for the cats to return, but to no avail - they are gone. Each day for the next week he waits outside, until finally he loses hope and just stays in.
I was surprised by how upset the old man's story made me. It was nothing more than a brief observation in Tarrou's journal, and yet it seemed like an absolute tragedy. I don't know much about this mysterious spitting man in the apartment, but I assume that (like many of the people in Oran) he lives a relatively simple, routine-driven life. The loss of his routine was a shock to him, and it took away one of the simple things that made him truly happy. This short narrative was what finally helped me to understand how devastating the plague was to Oran. It wasn't the death tolls or the stories of separated lovers, but the simple fate of an old man and his cats. I hope that as I finish the book there is some resolution regarding the man's tragic tale.
