The Unexpected Visitor: A Narrative Fiction Essay

While reading The Stranger I noticed that traits that Albert Camus character depicts in the book are closely related to the theories of Sigmund Freud on moral human behavior. Albert Camus portrays his character of Meursault as a numb, emotionless person that seems to mindlessly play out his role in society, acting in a manner that he sees as the way he’s supposed to act, always living in the moment with his instincts driving him, and if the right circumstance presents itself the primal deep seeded animal will come out. I believe that most of the character’s traits fall under Freud’s notion of the Id and Ego mental apparatus, and don’t believe that his idea of the super-ego is represented in this book.

The Stranger The Stranger exhibits a society that has confined itself with a specific set of social standards that dictate the manner in which people are supposed to act. This ideology determines the level of morality, and how much emphasis should placed on following this certain "ethical" structure. Albert Camus's main character, Meursault, is depicted as a nonconformist that is unwilling to play society's game. Through Meursault's failure to comply with society's values and conform to the norm, he is rejected and also condemned to death by society.

“Who are they?” Asked Georg quickly, straining his eyes to see what the other gladly would not have seen. “Wolves.”

Soon the moonlight illuminated the scenery. As I was standing on the balcony admiring the scenery something finally went wrong, a huge black cloud covered the moon. I soon heard the thunder. It seemed to be nothing to worry about, so I didn’t acknowledge it. A few hours later the thunder grew louder and I could see the flashes of lightning headed our way. I went inside to inform my parents of the weather, but they didn’t seem to worry about it much until the cloud was almost over the lodge. My family and I left the reception alone while everyone else stayed in cover; they were the smart ones I thought.

The light then began to go pitch black. Then lights come back on with one person wearing all black.Once the two boys see it the lights turn off and it get closer every time the light goes off and doesn't turn back on. The two began to scream for help, but no one responds. They then begin to hear a voice quietly saying “the bang bang chicken goes bang”. Alex then says what could he mean by that what does that thing want with us out of all people. Also what does it mean about bang bang. The lights turn off and on again. With that thing nowhere to be found, suddenly i see it behind Jasper. Then the lights turn off for about 10 seconds. When the lights come back on neither of the to is nowhere to be found. I began to panic and worry next thing you know it i begin to feel someone grape me. Next thing you know i passed out and fell to ground, but while falling i see a glimpse of the thing that was after us. Never in a million years will i have thought for it to

“No Sir, I’m sure it's them wolfs again” he said worried, while the chief looked at me with hate.

I stepped forward and looked at the creature. “But what exactly are you? You appear so much against nature, that we can’t figure out why you are attacking us.”

The rain kept on hitting the top of my car as I drove down the old road, like how a woodpecker pecks holes into trees looking for bugs. The town of Tahlequah had really changed since I saw it last about 40 years ago. There were paved roads now and a bigger school. The small shops I remembered were now big Sears and Target stores. Busy people walked on sidewalks trying not to get rained on, and cars drove on, with so many miles to go. As I got farther out and the buildings started to trickle out into countryside, I noticed a new sound that rose above all the rest.

“Who’s they?” he wanted to know. “Who, specifically, do you think is trying to murder you?”

The clearing was quiet, it seemed lifeless. The Salinas River still flowed merrily near the hillside. The water was still warm from the afternoon sun, and still reflected a green hue. On one side of the river, the smooth foothill slopes still curved up to the strong and rocky Gabilan Mountains, and the other side was still lined with trees. The willows and sycamore branches still swung gently in the wind, and the leaves still created a green light within the space. It was totally calm and peaceful… but something was wrong. The air seemed heavier, and the sun seemed dimmer. No animals stirred, and everything seemed to be aware of a deep sadness. Nothing moved save for a small group of men standing around an unmoving figure.

He woke up in a dark room. He was numb and dizzy. The figure of a man kept on flickering through his head. He couldn’t move. He had no memory. His whole body was full of pain and agony.

He opened his sack and as he grabbed a potato he saw a outline of a person, as the mysterious figure came closer, he ran, scampering. The figure moved quick as a mouse, and as he ran, his face appeared, and just as suddenly black hair covered his face, as if a mask was concealing his

Albert Camus creates a series of characters in The Stranger whose personality traits and motivations mirror those that are overlooked upon by the average man. Camus develops various characters and scenarios that show true humanity which tends to have been ignored due to the fact of how typical it has become. Camus incorporates abominable personality traits of the characters, variety, consistency, and everyone’s fate.

At times in life there comes something called change. In my opinion, I was not a big fan of change. You cannot imagine how I was feeling when my mother announced that we were moving. It was the middle of my sixth-grade year, I was feeling countless emotions, none that could be explained at the moment of the announcement. The main thing on my mind was school; my friends, my outstanding teachers, and the environment. All things I had left behind. All I could think about was, “How will I ever adjust?” I knew exactly what was to come, I knew exactly what I was going to become, an outcast. There were numerous of ways on why I was feeling this way, but

The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.