I suppose the urge to reread classics is a sign of aging as good as any. (Especially as I'm also starting to feel that the remainder of my life is now much too short for bad books. I'm as yet unsure of how to best combine these two.)
I have come across extracts from 'L'Etranger' several times in the last couple of years, and each time have been struck with the density and emotional charge of the seemingly simple style. That impression stuck throughout the novel, and after the 150 well-composed pages - an excellent length! Camus knew how to kill his darlings! - I'm still in awe of his command.
This kind of mastery in a first novel is very rare.
The plot in itself is no page-turner (As the Cure sang; "Killing an Arab") and certainly has aged since 1942. Still, I think its statement on alienation and outsidership still holds.