There's nothing I love more in a book than an author's note or translator's note, and I'm really pleasantly surprised to be finding it at the start of my edition instead of at the end where I've more commonly seen it. I feel like it is such a gift to get a peek into the "why" of the writing or translation, and this note in particular made me really reflect on the artistry of translation and what a labor of love it is to try to take one text and turn it into another. Words like "faithful" and "honest" and "thoughtful" come to mind as goals of this effort, and Ward digging into some choices he made to try to get it "right" (if such a thing is possible) just filled me with a lot of appreciation before I've even started reading. I also thought it was kind of funny - like was that a little dig at Gilbert's translation's "paraphrastic earnestness" I detected?

There's plenty of discussion in the forum already about the famous opening line and I've seen that discussion already includes some of what Ward mentioned in his note, so I won't rehash that. Instead, the part of the note I wanted to mention that I particularly liked and felt set my expectations well (and that others without a note at the start might enjoy) was from the very first paragraph of the note:

"The Stranger demanded of Camus the creation of a style at once literary and profoundly popular, an artistic sleight of hand that would make the complexities of a man's life appear simple. [...] What little Meursault says or feels or does resonates with all he does not say, all he does not feel, all he does not do. The "simplicity" of the text is merely apparent and everywhere paradoxical."

For lack of a proper literary way of saying this: that is just so delicious to me. It makes me so excited to sink my teeth into what sounds to be some really juicy negative space in this book.