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Heart of Darkness: and Selected Short Fiction
One of the most haunting stories ever written, Joseph Conrad ’s Heart of Darkness follows Marlow, a riverboat captain, on a voyage into the African Congo at the height of European colonialism. Astounded by the brutal depravity he witnesses, Marlow becomes obsessed with meeting Kurtz, a famously idealistic and able man stationed farther along the river. What he finally discovers, however, is a horror beyond imagining. Heart of Darkness is widely regarded as a masterpiece for its vivid study of human nature and the greed and ruthlessness of imperialism.
This collection also includes three of Conrad’s finest short: Youth, the author’s largely autobiographical tale of a young man’s ill-fated sea voyage, in which Marlow makes his first appearance; also, The Secret Sharer and Amy Forster.
This collection also includes three of Conrad’s finest short: Youth, the author’s largely autobiographical tale of a young man’s ill-fated sea voyage, in which Marlow makes his first appearance; also, The Secret Sharer and Amy Forster.
107 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1899
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7238 people want to read
About the author
Joseph Conrad
3,084 books4,850 followersJoseph Conrad was a Polish-British novelist and story writer. He is regarded as one of the greatest writers in the English language and, although he did not speak English fluently until his twenties, he became a master prose stylist who brought a non-English sensibility into English literature. He wrote novels and stories, many in nautical settings, that depict crises of human individuality in the midst of what he saw as an indifferent, inscrutable, and amoral world.
Conrad is considered a literary impressionist by some and an early modernist by others, though his works also contain elements of 19th-century realism. His narrative style and anti-heroic characters, as in Lord Jim, for example, have influenced numerous authors. Many dramatic films have been adapted from and inspired by his works. Numerous writers and critics have commented that his fictional works, written largely in the first two decades of the 20th century, seem to have anticipated later world events.
Writing near the peak of the British Empire, Conrad drew on the national experiences of his native Poland—during nearly all his life, parceled out among three occupying empires—and on his own experiences in the French and British merchant navies, to create short stories and novels that reflect aspects of a European-dominated world—including imperialism and colonialism—and that profoundly explore the human psyche.
Conrad is considered a literary impressionist by some and an early modernist by others, though his works also contain elements of 19th-century realism. His narrative style and anti-heroic characters, as in Lord Jim, for example, have influenced numerous authors. Many dramatic films have been adapted from and inspired by his works. Numerous writers and critics have commented that his fictional works, written largely in the first two decades of the 20th century, seem to have anticipated later world events.
Writing near the peak of the British Empire, Conrad drew on the national experiences of his native Poland—during nearly all his life, parceled out among three occupying empires—and on his own experiences in the French and British merchant navies, to create short stories and novels that reflect aspects of a European-dominated world—including imperialism and colonialism—and that profoundly explore the human psyche.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 357 reviews
April 18, 2023
I read this a long time ago, and then again this weekend, and realised that I remembered maybe 5% of it. It's perhaps not that surprising because the existential meandering dominates the actual events, and many of the those events involve lying around being too hot, too sweaty, and too sick, just waiting. That's unfair - events do unfold, characters are met, unpleasantness witnessed, at at the creshendo, blood is spilled. The pace, however, is slow. Nineteenth century slow. Dickens sprints by comparison. Each moment of emotion and contemplation is picked apart, over-written, beaten into submission with $100 words.
Two things save this from being discarded within pages and perhaps (along with academia's love affair and inclusion on ten thousand secondary school English curricula) explain its longevity. Firstly, if you forgive the overblown language that is perhaps a sign of his times more than anything, Conrad has a rare eye for characterisation and description. He 'sees' and manages to share, delivering, when he chooses to, whole people with a handful of lines. Secondly, the heart of the heart... of darkness is a mystery that obsesses the narrator and starts to compell the reader. Like our narrator steaming his way upriver into the unknown, we want to meet Kurtz, to find out what it is about this man that's so extraordinary.
In the end, like anything that is built up and built up again, Kurtz is a let down, but somehow Conrad saves it with the man's last words. Another mystery left for the reader and one that's kept people reading the work for a hundred years.
3.5 stars from me - I can appreciate its worth, but I wasn't enraptured.
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Two things save this from being discarded within pages and perhaps (along with academia's love affair and inclusion on ten thousand secondary school English curricula) explain its longevity. Firstly, if you forgive the overblown language that is perhaps a sign of his times more than anything, Conrad has a rare eye for characterisation and description. He 'sees' and manages to share, delivering, when he chooses to, whole people with a handful of lines. Secondly, the heart of the heart... of darkness is a mystery that obsesses the narrator and starts to compell the reader. Like our narrator steaming his way upriver into the unknown, we want to meet Kurtz, to find out what it is about this man that's so extraordinary.
In the end, like anything that is built up and built up again, Kurtz is a let down, but somehow Conrad saves it with the man's last words. Another mystery left for the reader and one that's kept people reading the work for a hundred years.
3.5 stars from me - I can appreciate its worth, but I wasn't enraptured.
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December 26, 2025
Joseph Conrad's famous masterpiece Heart of Darkness 1899 and three short stories. Youth 1898, Amy Foster 1901,The Secret Sharer 1910 all good but minor canon of Conrad's work. Youth is partly autobiographical about a troubled young man a sailor off the coast of southeast Asia. Amy Foster a shunned woman immigrant to England and The Secret Sharer a fugitive, former crewmate hidden by the ship's captain. Charles Marlow needs a job desperately, a seaman he crosses the often stormy English Channel and visits an unstated city, obviously Brussels. Hired to be a freshwater captain on a steamboat going up a giant African river. The Congo, seems like an easy task until he casts off. The assignment find Kurtz a mysterious, murderous, and corrupt renegade who will not follow his greedy trading company's orders . There at last, yet immediate dread as the small craft slowly heads up the unending, muddy, reddish- brown stream, meandering, dodging a myriad of floating tree branches, dangerous sandbars, treacherous rocks just below the water surface. Darkness falls, the thick jungle hides secrets, weird pervading noises behind dreary forests, they feel uneasy, creeping the humans onboard the amiable named the Nellie, travelers start feeling the growing gloom, the breathless, suffocating atmosphere full of fear, and still baffling jungle, complete silence, ominous, dense infinite vegetation crushes , frightens, the spiritless passengers. Mr. Marlow is unsure, when the exhausting drums begin beating fiercely, ubiquitous and incessant stifling heat, bones rattle down your spine, the finish believed near. Then it becomes strange, the natives if I can use the phrase become restless, arrows fly, people die, villages burn, ivory found buried, men too, not a friendly place discovered. The remote Kurtz finally appears , but soon vanishes the evil remains. Shadows on ground then it fades, the night seems perpetual the phantom leader constant hunting for ivory. Through the Black sad faces of hopelessness, working eyes shut until they drop. The closest to hell on earth the living could experience of the chaotic, jumble scene of eternal dusk, civilization never reached. This preeminent novella originally printed was 72 pages long but depending on publishers format can be over 100, either way this shocking , horrific narrative is quite devastating, a indictment of man's inhuman treatment of fellow beings. Joseph Conrad experienced firsthand in 1890 on the Congo and appalled him. Charles Marlow was in virtual fact Conrad.
April 27, 2022
A re-investigation of Conrad's Heart of Darkness is long due... happening in phases now. However, Conrad, as a writer of short fiction, leaves many behind. His short stories, not so short actually, are wonderfully written and might not interest the readers who don't have a literary background. The language might sound gaudy today. The essence is still there and people will connect, probably.
June 13, 2016
This book sucked me in one end and spat me out the other and I'm still not entirely sure what happened. It was incredibly absorbing because it took place exclusively inside the narrator's head. This felt something like a whirlpool of thoughts. This was fascinating and I really want to reread it so I can understand more of it.
Want to read
September 7, 2025
pre-thoughts:
guys I’m JUST reading heart of darkness real quick i swear 😭😭
May 5, 2015
Predivna kolekcija. Ako nekom treba najbolji način da upozna Jozefa Konrada ove tri piče su odličan uvod. Ili neka pogleda Apocalypse Now, i to funkcioniše :) Tolko emocija, ljudskosti i uopšte poznavanje ljudske psihe i to tako verno preneti na papir ... pa prosto ne umem d objasnim kako to neki ljudi mogu.
Naravno priče kao priče su relativno obične ali dubina pisanja i pažnja koja mora da se posveti čitanju su daleko veća nego večina knjiga koje sam čitao u poslednje vreme tako da to što nema 1000 strana uopšte ne umanjuje obimnost ovoga dela.... u suštini tolko me je oduševilo da više buncam nego što šišem tako da PROČITAJTE knjigu.
Naravno priče kao priče su relativno obične ali dubina pisanja i pažnja koja mora da se posveti čitanju su daleko veća nego večina knjiga koje sam čitao u poslednje vreme tako da to što nema 1000 strana uopšte ne umanjuje obimnost ovoga dela.... u suštini tolko me je oduševilo da više buncam nego što šišem tako da PROČITAJTE knjigu.
October 25, 2024
wow!! well conrad sure knew how to fit in the words “savage” “dark” “primitive” into every sentence!! never have i ever wanted to read this book quite literally ever!! from the get go it just did not sound appealing, what with its white author writing white protagonists and narrators centering on the trek to reach a white lunatic who in the end is depicted favorably by the white narrator, even though the storyline takes place in belgium-colonized congo, which experienced an incredibly brutal and genocidal colonization. but of course, that is not the main focus of this “heartful” little narrative. no, no, we all must listen to a random guy who for some reason is in congo, couldnt care to remember why, and his little river cruise to a general who has gone mad supposedly. of course, the officers madness is depicted as “savage”, compared to the “primitive” nature of the “natives”. of course, a white man acting so “primitively” is quite shocking.
alas, i am glad to have already read chinua achebe’s masterpiece “things fall apart”, which was in part a response and critique of conrads novella, and im glad that i will also get to read some of his criticism along with others in the 400 + pages in norton’s fifth edition of “heart of darkness”. #englishmajor
anyway, it was racist (obviously) and dated (again, obviously) glad its over. hope to never read it again. :)
alas, i am glad to have already read chinua achebe’s masterpiece “things fall apart”, which was in part a response and critique of conrads novella, and im glad that i will also get to read some of his criticism along with others in the 400 + pages in norton’s fifth edition of “heart of darkness”. #englishmajor
anyway, it was racist (obviously) and dated (again, obviously) glad its over. hope to never read it again. :)
March 25, 2020
I read "Heart of Darkness" while in high school over 55 years ago and I'm amazed at how different it is from how I remembered. I remembered it as a much more action packed story than it actually is. It is an adventure story about a young man named Marlow travelling up into Africa but it is also a commentary on colonialism and racism (although some of Conrad's writing was rather racist in itself). I remember I had to write a book report for my class back then and I would love to be able to see the report now to see what I had to say. This book also included three amazing short stories of which one titled "Youth" has to be one of the finest short stories I've ever read. In fact, I rated the book 5 stars solely because of that story, the rest of the book is closer to 4 stars.
April 29, 2014
I wanted to read this book mainly due to Conrad's influence on Lucius Sheppard's work. So far I have gone through almost fifty pages of introduction material. That's almost as long a the whole work it self.
The extensive imagery and use of language is amazing. It's hard to imagine in these times of Political Correctness just how harsh these colonial British times were in relation to the population they were "ruling".
This is certainly an intense and thought provoking book. I am amazed I had not read it up to this point in my life. This is certainly not light and escapist reading. What is also amazing is that this is Conrad's third language. He has completely mastered its use and imagery.
The extensive imagery and use of language is amazing. It's hard to imagine in these times of Political Correctness just how harsh these colonial British times were in relation to the population they were "ruling".
This is certainly an intense and thought provoking book. I am amazed I had not read it up to this point in my life. This is certainly not light and escapist reading. What is also amazing is that this is Conrad's third language. He has completely mastered its use and imagery.
July 17, 2016
I don't believe much can be said about this book that hasn't already been said, many times over. But let me say, my thoughts on this book is that although it really is very well written and deemed one of the all time classics and listed in so many of the "must be read" lists that it simply begs that this book absolutely must be read - at least once in a persons life.
With that being said, I am glad I am now finally able to tick it off the list, but for the actual book itself well obviously it is sadly dated and the content is a look into past that fills me with such loathing and disgust that I rejoiced when I finally finished this book - even though it is a small book, it certainly packs a punch, and not in a good way!
With that being said, I am glad I am now finally able to tick it off the list, but for the actual book itself well obviously it is sadly dated and the content is a look into past that fills me with such loathing and disgust that I rejoiced when I finally finished this book - even though it is a small book, it certainly packs a punch, and not in a good way!
December 5, 2017
This is a review for Heart of Darkness. Read 5/3/17 - 5/11/17
3/5 stars for Heart of Darkness. I'm not sure I fully understand it but I think what Conrad was getting at is the evil consequences of colonialism in Africa, and to illustrate every man's search for the "meaning of life". Marlow's journey into the dark jungles of The Congo was gripping. His journey is one of self discovery and I think another point to this story was that Kurtz had found the "meaning of life", and Marlow only got to see a glimpse of it before Kurtz died. Was Kurtz able to pass his worldly knowledge on to anyone?
3/5 stars for Heart of Darkness. I'm not sure I fully understand it but I think what Conrad was getting at is the evil consequences of colonialism in Africa, and to illustrate every man's search for the "meaning of life". Marlow's journey into the dark jungles of The Congo was gripping. His journey is one of self discovery and I think another point to this story was that Kurtz had found the "meaning of life", and Marlow only got to see a glimpse of it before Kurtz died. Was Kurtz able to pass his worldly knowledge on to anyone?
February 6, 2021
I'm glad I read this, but I can't say I enjoyed it or would recommend it to anyone.
January 26, 2025
porque no le puedo dar menos..
January 30, 2025
I don’t fucking care man
March 4, 2017
Finally read it and now I finally get Apocalypse Now, really I should have read this years ago but it just seems like the world is steaming up this river now.
December 25, 2016
Second time I've tried to read Conrad. Will be the last!
February 25, 2022
I remember being assigned this book in high school and am pretty certain I just read cliff notes, so I basically went into this book knowing it had something to do with colonialism in Africa. I was astounded to re-educate myself concerning the atrocities that took place in the Belgian Congo under Leopold II. I wouldn't say Conrad's "stream of conscious" writing style is my favorite, but I found his sarcasm catching and enjoyed many of his descriptions. We also had a fruitful discussion contrasting Conrad's pessimistic views of looking inward into "the Heart of Darkness" versus true Self Knowledge that leads to Self-Reverence for oneself and for the rest of humanity. Kurtz serves as a negative example to warn readers of where demonic desires for power and wealth will ultimately lead you in the end....crying out in terror, "the horror, the horror".
April 3, 2020
Kinda disappointed...At the beginning I thought this was going to be a very good book but it soon became kinda stagnant and I was underwhelmed by how dark the colony was described. Too much time is spent going over the narrator‘a thoughts about insignificant things, and Kurtz has this incredible build-up and then all we get are his last words. It’s well written though with good imagery; the narrator is chill.
September 12, 2021
A favorite of mine; evidently still mysterious after all these years.
December 27, 2022
This was an assignment last semester when I took a 20th C. Novel course. I didn't finish the story just because I wasn't in the right capacity of mind to actually finish uni tasks. I revisited this short novel for a presentation about Conrad which I had to give. I came back to it not being certain if I would be hooked or not. I was. This was overwhelmingly engaging and mesmerizingly beautifully written. The imagery, particularly when Marlo is getting a personal glimpse of 'the darkness', was striking.
I may return with a 'proper' review once I read the other stories.
I may return with a 'proper' review once I read the other stories.
June 30, 2022
This collection of six stories varied from very interesting and very well-written (Typhoon) to dull, vague, and pointless (Heart Of Darkness, which was so bad that I can’t believe anyone would attempt to adapt it into a movie). The last one, Falk, could have been shortened to a single sentence: “Falk is an annoying tugboat master in some small harbor somewhere” — for all I got out of it.
(I have published a longer review on my website, including mini-reviews for each of the six stories.)
June 7, 2022
I hated it. I think Heart of Darkness is vehemently racist. Maybe I’m missing the point, maybe I need to realize it’s a product of it’s time, but I will not be reading this again. I read Youth as well and I disliked that almost as much as Heart of Darkness. I couldn’t read the other two included.
The one thing I liked wasn’t even related to the book, instead it relates to Lord of the Flies or maybe even more to myself. I liked how I could tell that Lord of the Flies is so inspired by Heart of Darkness.
The one thing I liked wasn’t even related to the book, instead it relates to Lord of the Flies or maybe even more to myself. I liked how I could tell that Lord of the Flies is so inspired by Heart of Darkness.
March 17, 2020
Technically a DNF. Only got through two short stories and skimmed the last 10 pages of the main story, Heart of Darkness. Not bad writing, just incredibly bored with it. Because I wasn't intrigued or cared about the characters, a lot of the shocking moments for the reader weren't very impactful. Like I said, not bad, just wasn't my personal preference.
March 18, 2009
"Racism Couched in a Critique of Racism"
Certainly it was relevant in 1977 for a black African man with a “western” education to offer criticism of the dominant paradigm of the “western,” “white” status-quo; however, in his article “An Image of Africa: Racism in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness,” Chinua Achebe entirely misses the mark. His assertion is, essentially, that given the novel’s having not been written in the latter half of the twentieth century with the bleeding-heart sensibilities of a “white” man of that time, it is, therefore, inherently racist and seeks to hold up all of Africa as a “foil to Europe […:] in comparison with which Europe’s […:] spiritual grace will be manifest.” (337) Achebe’s evidence of this is tenuous at best, and often hinges on logical fallacy, blatant misrepresentation of Conrad’s text, or wild postulation and slander. To this end, I will (as I have done above) include my additions to the text (both his and Conrad’s), as well as omissions from it, in brackets—something Achebe has failed to do in order to further his effort to distort Conrad’s meaning and pervert an English language classic. I assert (and seek to prove) that, to quote himself, “my observations should be quite clear […:], namely that [Chinua Achebe:] was a thoroughgoing racist.” (343)
Firstly, to deal with Achebe’s distortion and misrepresentation of the text: Achebe distorts Conrad’s prose through skillful lies of omission: “Herein lies the meaning of Heart of Darkness and the fascination it holds over the Western mind: ‘What thrilled you was just the thought of their humanity—like yours….Ugly.’” (339) What Achebe omits is Conrad’s insistence of kinship and similarity: the real quote reads “[…:]humanity—like yours—the thought of your remote kinship with this wild and passionate uproar. Ugly. Yes, it was ugly enough, but if you were man enough you would admit […:] a dim suspicion of there being a meaning in it which you […:] could comprehend.” [my emphasis:] (339) Conrad’s insistence is not on Africans as Achebe’s “just limbs or rolling eyes,” (340) but as human beings, who—though their customs, beliefs, societies, and even their skin may not look like our (European) own—are more like us than we (European denizens of the 19th century) would like to perhaps admit. Achebe’s willful ignorance to these facts, his deliberate misrepresentation of the text, and his refusal to accept historical perspective speak not to Conrad’s racism, or even the insidious racism of Victorian Europe, but to Achebe’s own racist-ly preconceived notion that all “white,” “western” men are inherently racist and anti-Africa.
Achebe seems unaware that a work (or a quote) exists within a context, and that outside of that context it has little meaning. Out-of-context quotation is a hallmark of his efforts here. Twice in the article he employs secondary sources, one of which is actually a third-hand quote of Conrad stripped of all relevance in order to serve Achebe’s racist purpose: “His own account of his first encounter with a black man is very revealing: ‘A certain enormous buck nigger encountered in Haiti fixed my conception of blind, furious, unreasoning rage, as manifested in the human animal to the end of my days. Of the nigger I used to dream for years afterward.’ Certainly Conrad had a problem with niggers. His inordinate love of that word itself should be of interest […:]” (344-5) Firstly to deal with the word “nigger:” The word was the accepted English language descriptor for people of black African descent no matter where they existed in the world (from the dark heart of Africa to the white halls of London) at the time in which Conrad lived. To take issue with Conrad’s use of nigger in his own time is an idiotic argument; the same could be done with Achebe’s libelous uses of “western” and “white” as indictments of racist guilt in all people who could be so described. One must look with unclouded eyes, instead, at the essential language of the sentence, this “blind, furious, unreasoning rage” is not a characteristic of blacks or Haitians, or any other subset of humanity, but (in Conrad’s grammatical construction) of “the human animal,” a universal observation. That this man in Haiti was a “nigger” is wholly irrelevant, he could as easily have been an enraged Scotsman…the observation (and its universal nature in Conrad’s experience of it) remains true. Secondly, to deal with Achebe’s quotation of Bernard C. Meyer: he quotes Meyer as saying that Conrad was “‘notoriously inaccurate in the rendering of his own history,’” (346) Achebe seems here to have missed the fact that Heart of Darkness is a work of novelistic fiction, and not a part of Conrad’s memoirs. Conrad is not (!) Marlow (though Marlow’s travels may have been informed by Conrad’s own—one is inclined, as they say, to “write what you know”) and therefore the moral decisions which Marlow makes (or the allegedly immoral suppositions he has) are not Conrad’s, but his own; just as Steven King’s writing of serial-killers does not make him the very same. Further, Meyer’s quote, again, lacks any form of contextual reference back to either Conrad or Marlow, and is, therefore, presented in the form of logical fallacy: post hoc ergo proctor hoc—Conrad has been wrong in the past, so he must always be wrong.
When Achebe rants, “as though we might expect a black figure striding along on black legs to wave white arms!” in response to Conrad’s repetitive descriptive use of the term black in the sentence “A black figure stood up, strode on long black legs, waving black arms,” (345) he undermines the use of descriptive language and seems to miss a central tenant of descriptive writing (although he uses the words “white” and “western” many dozens of times in his article to the same end, forcing their belaboured repetition herein). Albeit, Conrad is beating us over the head with blackness, but that assertion is not inherently racist; it is merely observational, Marlow recognizing the difference (the otherness) of the people of the Congo. To deny them their blackness (to engage in the bleeding-heart “I don’t see colour” assertion) is far more racist in its denial of race—and accompanying racial experience—than any simple acknowledgment of race could ever be. However, it would seem that Achebe prefers the appearance of racial integration to any real discussion of it. One cannot dialogue about racial issues while denying the existence of race! The thought is absolutely absurd and belittles the experience of “others” in their “otherness.”
Achebe makes two direct comparisons of Conrad to historical figures. One is to Marco Polo, the other Adolf Hitler in a section redacted eleven years after his initial release of the critique (or, rather, artists who worked in Nazi occupied Germany during the war; Achebe’s misunderstanding—or intentional misrepresentation of [see below:]—historic fact makes the distinction irrelevant). In comparing Conrad to Marco Polo, Achebe uses the term xenophobia, almost libelously. He asserts that Marco Polo was xenophobic for not recognizing the Chinese accomplishments of the printing-press and the architectural wonder of the Chinese Great Wall in his writings on his travels. Oddly—and uncharacteristically—Achebe includes a concession to reality here (perhaps because he is not out to directly attack Marco Polo) in admitting the possibility that the voyager may never have encountered either technological wonder in his time in China. The assertion that the Great Wall “is visible from the moon!” (347) verges on insanity; who ever thought Marco Polo traveled to the moon? Is Achebe insinuating that because Polo failed to do so he is inherently xenophobic and racist? The inclusion of this information verges on a straw-man logical fallacy, except that Achebe does not seem to be hinting at anything beyond it. Instead, he maintains that both Polo and Conrad are “unload[ing:] physical and moral deformities [onto Africa/China:] so that [they:] may go forward, erect and immaculate.” (348) How two individual men representing a society as diverse as the nations of Europe could do this is entirely beyond my comprehension.
In equating Conrad with “All those men of Nazi Germany who lent their talent to virulent racism,” and asserting that “poetry surely can only be on the side of man’s deliverance […:] and against the doctrines of Hitler’s master races or Conrad’s ‘rudimentary souls,’” (footnote, 344) Achebe misses the reality that there were no mechanisms within the Nazi machine to create any form of art. Instead, artists had to appeal to a censorship board with whatever they created. Achebe here attempts to remove any form of personal responsibility for one’s creation, and instead assert that merely being white (or Germanic) makes one a racist (or anti-Semitic). Achebe’s implication that all Germanic people during the war period were Nazis is in itself a racist assertion which undermines his point (but illustrates mine brilliantly!). He also asserts himself as the ultimate moral judge of the validity of all art, insisting that the artist who creates art which he (Achebe) does not like “is no more a great artist than another may be called a priest who reads the mass backwards.” (footnote, 344) Achebe’s essential assertion, the linch-pin upon which the weight of his entire argument hangs, is that Conrad’s European-ness leaves in him a “residue of antipathy to black people.” (344)
Chinua Achebe’s critique of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is as far off the mark as would be an assertion by this author that the novella is hetero-sexist and homophobic because it does not include a gay character, and fails to imply homo-eroticism in the relationship between Marlow and Kurtz (or Kurtz and the Russian, or Marlow and his shipmates—all apt opportunities). Simply turning Achebe’s argument on its head (there remains in Achebe’s attitude a residue of antipathy toward white people) illustrates the absurdity of it. His logical errors, denial of historical context (and therefore appropriate behaviour in a character), insistence of his own moral superiority, and placement of himself as ultimate judge of artistic value, work to wholly undermine his argument and, except in the eyes of the most racist individual (or most bleeding-heart, white-guilt, squish-brained “liberal”), place his critique soundly in the moral rubbish-bin along with the ravings of The Reverend Wright and Jerry Falwell.
Certainly it was relevant in 1977 for a black African man with a “western” education to offer criticism of the dominant paradigm of the “western,” “white” status-quo; however, in his article “An Image of Africa: Racism in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness,” Chinua Achebe entirely misses the mark. His assertion is, essentially, that given the novel’s having not been written in the latter half of the twentieth century with the bleeding-heart sensibilities of a “white” man of that time, it is, therefore, inherently racist and seeks to hold up all of Africa as a “foil to Europe […:] in comparison with which Europe’s […:] spiritual grace will be manifest.” (337) Achebe’s evidence of this is tenuous at best, and often hinges on logical fallacy, blatant misrepresentation of Conrad’s text, or wild postulation and slander. To this end, I will (as I have done above) include my additions to the text (both his and Conrad’s), as well as omissions from it, in brackets—something Achebe has failed to do in order to further his effort to distort Conrad’s meaning and pervert an English language classic. I assert (and seek to prove) that, to quote himself, “my observations should be quite clear […:], namely that [Chinua Achebe:] was a thoroughgoing racist.” (343)
Firstly, to deal with Achebe’s distortion and misrepresentation of the text: Achebe distorts Conrad’s prose through skillful lies of omission: “Herein lies the meaning of Heart of Darkness and the fascination it holds over the Western mind: ‘What thrilled you was just the thought of their humanity—like yours….Ugly.’” (339) What Achebe omits is Conrad’s insistence of kinship and similarity: the real quote reads “[…:]humanity—like yours—the thought of your remote kinship with this wild and passionate uproar. Ugly. Yes, it was ugly enough, but if you were man enough you would admit […:] a dim suspicion of there being a meaning in it which you […:] could comprehend.” [my emphasis:] (339) Conrad’s insistence is not on Africans as Achebe’s “just limbs or rolling eyes,” (340) but as human beings, who—though their customs, beliefs, societies, and even their skin may not look like our (European) own—are more like us than we (European denizens of the 19th century) would like to perhaps admit. Achebe’s willful ignorance to these facts, his deliberate misrepresentation of the text, and his refusal to accept historical perspective speak not to Conrad’s racism, or even the insidious racism of Victorian Europe, but to Achebe’s own racist-ly preconceived notion that all “white,” “western” men are inherently racist and anti-Africa.
Achebe seems unaware that a work (or a quote) exists within a context, and that outside of that context it has little meaning. Out-of-context quotation is a hallmark of his efforts here. Twice in the article he employs secondary sources, one of which is actually a third-hand quote of Conrad stripped of all relevance in order to serve Achebe’s racist purpose: “His own account of his first encounter with a black man is very revealing: ‘A certain enormous buck nigger encountered in Haiti fixed my conception of blind, furious, unreasoning rage, as manifested in the human animal to the end of my days. Of the nigger I used to dream for years afterward.’ Certainly Conrad had a problem with niggers. His inordinate love of that word itself should be of interest […:]” (344-5) Firstly to deal with the word “nigger:” The word was the accepted English language descriptor for people of black African descent no matter where they existed in the world (from the dark heart of Africa to the white halls of London) at the time in which Conrad lived. To take issue with Conrad’s use of nigger in his own time is an idiotic argument; the same could be done with Achebe’s libelous uses of “western” and “white” as indictments of racist guilt in all people who could be so described. One must look with unclouded eyes, instead, at the essential language of the sentence, this “blind, furious, unreasoning rage” is not a characteristic of blacks or Haitians, or any other subset of humanity, but (in Conrad’s grammatical construction) of “the human animal,” a universal observation. That this man in Haiti was a “nigger” is wholly irrelevant, he could as easily have been an enraged Scotsman…the observation (and its universal nature in Conrad’s experience of it) remains true. Secondly, to deal with Achebe’s quotation of Bernard C. Meyer: he quotes Meyer as saying that Conrad was “‘notoriously inaccurate in the rendering of his own history,’” (346) Achebe seems here to have missed the fact that Heart of Darkness is a work of novelistic fiction, and not a part of Conrad’s memoirs. Conrad is not (!) Marlow (though Marlow’s travels may have been informed by Conrad’s own—one is inclined, as they say, to “write what you know”) and therefore the moral decisions which Marlow makes (or the allegedly immoral suppositions he has) are not Conrad’s, but his own; just as Steven King’s writing of serial-killers does not make him the very same. Further, Meyer’s quote, again, lacks any form of contextual reference back to either Conrad or Marlow, and is, therefore, presented in the form of logical fallacy: post hoc ergo proctor hoc—Conrad has been wrong in the past, so he must always be wrong.
When Achebe rants, “as though we might expect a black figure striding along on black legs to wave white arms!” in response to Conrad’s repetitive descriptive use of the term black in the sentence “A black figure stood up, strode on long black legs, waving black arms,” (345) he undermines the use of descriptive language and seems to miss a central tenant of descriptive writing (although he uses the words “white” and “western” many dozens of times in his article to the same end, forcing their belaboured repetition herein). Albeit, Conrad is beating us over the head with blackness, but that assertion is not inherently racist; it is merely observational, Marlow recognizing the difference (the otherness) of the people of the Congo. To deny them their blackness (to engage in the bleeding-heart “I don’t see colour” assertion) is far more racist in its denial of race—and accompanying racial experience—than any simple acknowledgment of race could ever be. However, it would seem that Achebe prefers the appearance of racial integration to any real discussion of it. One cannot dialogue about racial issues while denying the existence of race! The thought is absolutely absurd and belittles the experience of “others” in their “otherness.”
Achebe makes two direct comparisons of Conrad to historical figures. One is to Marco Polo, the other Adolf Hitler in a section redacted eleven years after his initial release of the critique (or, rather, artists who worked in Nazi occupied Germany during the war; Achebe’s misunderstanding—or intentional misrepresentation of [see below:]—historic fact makes the distinction irrelevant). In comparing Conrad to Marco Polo, Achebe uses the term xenophobia, almost libelously. He asserts that Marco Polo was xenophobic for not recognizing the Chinese accomplishments of the printing-press and the architectural wonder of the Chinese Great Wall in his writings on his travels. Oddly—and uncharacteristically—Achebe includes a concession to reality here (perhaps because he is not out to directly attack Marco Polo) in admitting the possibility that the voyager may never have encountered either technological wonder in his time in China. The assertion that the Great Wall “is visible from the moon!” (347) verges on insanity; who ever thought Marco Polo traveled to the moon? Is Achebe insinuating that because Polo failed to do so he is inherently xenophobic and racist? The inclusion of this information verges on a straw-man logical fallacy, except that Achebe does not seem to be hinting at anything beyond it. Instead, he maintains that both Polo and Conrad are “unload[ing:] physical and moral deformities [onto Africa/China:] so that [they:] may go forward, erect and immaculate.” (348) How two individual men representing a society as diverse as the nations of Europe could do this is entirely beyond my comprehension.
In equating Conrad with “All those men of Nazi Germany who lent their talent to virulent racism,” and asserting that “poetry surely can only be on the side of man’s deliverance […:] and against the doctrines of Hitler’s master races or Conrad’s ‘rudimentary souls,’” (footnote, 344) Achebe misses the reality that there were no mechanisms within the Nazi machine to create any form of art. Instead, artists had to appeal to a censorship board with whatever they created. Achebe here attempts to remove any form of personal responsibility for one’s creation, and instead assert that merely being white (or Germanic) makes one a racist (or anti-Semitic). Achebe’s implication that all Germanic people during the war period were Nazis is in itself a racist assertion which undermines his point (but illustrates mine brilliantly!). He also asserts himself as the ultimate moral judge of the validity of all art, insisting that the artist who creates art which he (Achebe) does not like “is no more a great artist than another may be called a priest who reads the mass backwards.” (footnote, 344) Achebe’s essential assertion, the linch-pin upon which the weight of his entire argument hangs, is that Conrad’s European-ness leaves in him a “residue of antipathy to black people.” (344)
Chinua Achebe’s critique of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is as far off the mark as would be an assertion by this author that the novella is hetero-sexist and homophobic because it does not include a gay character, and fails to imply homo-eroticism in the relationship between Marlow and Kurtz (or Kurtz and the Russian, or Marlow and his shipmates—all apt opportunities). Simply turning Achebe’s argument on its head (there remains in Achebe’s attitude a residue of antipathy toward white people) illustrates the absurdity of it. His logical errors, denial of historical context (and therefore appropriate behaviour in a character), insistence of his own moral superiority, and placement of himself as ultimate judge of artistic value, work to wholly undermine his argument and, except in the eyes of the most racist individual (or most bleeding-heart, white-guilt, squish-brained “liberal”), place his critique soundly in the moral rubbish-bin along with the ravings of The Reverend Wright and Jerry Falwell.
June 9, 2010
A group of men are aboard an English ship that is sitting on the Thames. The group includes a Lawyer, an Accountant, a Company Director/Captain, and a man without a specific profession who is named Marlow. The narrator appears to be another unnamed guest on the ship. While they are loitering about, waiting for the wind to pick up so that they might resume their voyage, Marlow begins to speak about London and Europe as some of the darkest places on earth. The narrator and other guests do not seem to regard him with much respect. Marlow is a stationary man, very unusual for a seaman. The others do not understand him because he does not fit into a neat category in the same manner that the others do. He mentions colonization and says that carving the earth into prizes or pieces is not something to examine too closely because it is an atrocity. He then begins to narrate a personal experience in Africa, which led him to become a freshwater sailor and gave him a terrible glimpse of colonization. With the exception of two or three small paragraphs, the perspective shifts to Marlow, who becomes the main narrator for the rest of the novel.
A novella, Heart of Darkness is Joseph Conrad’s most famous work and a foundational text on the subject of colonialism. Heart of Darkness is based in part on a trip that Conrad took through modern-day Congo during his years as a sailor. He captained a ship that sailed down the Congo River. Conrad gave up this mission because an illness forced him to return to England, where he worked on his novella almost a decade later.
Conrad’s works, Heart of Darkness in particular, provide a bridge between Victorian values and the ideals of modernism. Like their Victorian predecessors, these novels rely on traditional ideas of heroism, which are nevertheless under constant attack in a changing world and in places far from England. Women occupy traditional roles as arbiters of domesticity and morality, yet they are almost never present in the narrative; instead, the concepts of “home” and “civilization” exist merely as hypocritical ideals, meaningless to men for whom survival is in constant doubt. While the threats that Conrad’s characters face are concrete ones—illness, violence, conspiracy—they nevertheless acquire a philosophical character. Like much of the best modernist literature produced in the early decades of the twentieth century, Heart of Darkness is as much about alienation, confusion, and profound doubt as it is about imperialism.
The presence of ill characters in the novella illustrates the fact that Heart of Darkness is, at least in part, autobiographical. Many speculations have been made about the identity of various characters, such as the Manager, or Kurtz, most recently and perhaps most accurately in Adam Hochschild’s King Leopold’s Ghost. But the geographical, as well as biographical, vagueness of the novel--which is one of its most artistic, haunting characteristics--make it almost impossible to pin down these details for sure.
Heart of Darkness first appeared in a three-part series in Blackwood Magazine in 1899. It was published as a complete novella in 1904. It has since been referred to by many authors and poets. Its most famous lines are both from Kurtz: “exterminate the brutes,” and Kurtz's deathbed utterance, “the horror! The horror!”
Francis Ford Coppola directed the film version, Apocalypse Now, in which the action occurs in Vietnam in 1979.
This novella is unusual in that the author does not name most of the characters in his book, other than assigning them titles that describe their larger organizational goals. It is not quite an allegory, while he does allow them some individual characteristics of speech and dress, but they are for the most part stand-ins for larger groups. The obvious exception is Marlow, and his reaction against the colonial structures supported by people with names like “the Manager” and “the Lawyer” place him slightly outside this system. Groupthink is evident in named groups like the pilgrims and the natives. These groups have a few outstanding members, such as the native woman of arresting beauty or the red-haired pilgrim drunk with bloodthirstiness, but they mostly move together, make the same decisions, and have the same intentions. Conrad critiques such patterns, in which individual in a society think like other members of their group without stopping to think for themselves. Although Marlow is by no means a heroic character, Conrad does illustrate the need for individual thought by singling him out.
Although there is controversy over whether Conrad is critiquing colonialism or not, it is clear that he is critiquing religion. The two groups in the novel, the pilgrims and the natives, are linked by having religious beliefs, and the pilgrims seem at least as bloodthirsty as the natives. The rite in the woods that Marlow describes seems alien but certainly no more dangerous than the ambush. One of the seemingly admirable characteristics of Kurtz, as presented by Conrad, is that he seems just as compelled by African religion as by Christianity but seems beholden to neither. Marlow genuinely admires his ability to independently critique religions. He may not agree with Kurtz’s evaluation, but he respects Kurtz's ability to have his own opinions in the face of the various religious traditions he encounters.
A logical way to begin analyzing the tale is by applying the title to the novel. "Darkness" is a problematic word with several meanings. It is initially mentioned in the context of maps, where places of darkness have been colored in once they have been explored and settled by colonists. The map is an important symbol. It is a guide, a record of exploration. The incomplete map has a dual purpose in that maps unlock mysteries, on the one hand, by laying out the geography of unknown lands for new visitors, and on the other hand, by creating new mystery and inspiring new curiosity about the lands listed as unknown, in addition to new questions about what is only partly known. The river is another important symbol, perhaps our first symbol of the “heart,” which is itself a symbol of the human spirit. Always moving, not very predictable, the gateway to a wider world, it is an excellent metaphor for Marlow's trajectory. Marlow says that as a child he had a "passion" for maps, for the "glories of exploration." Although this description seems positive, it also sounds ominous. Marlow's tone is of one who recalls childhood notions with bitterness and regret.
The cause of this regret is evident in the first description of Marlow. His sallow skin and sunken cheeks do not portray him as healthy or happy. He has had the chance to explore, but apparently the experience has ruined him. This is Conrad's way of arranging the overall structure of the novella. The audience understands that this is to be a recollection, a tale that will account for Marlow's presently shaky, impenetrable state. The author is also presupposing knowledge of colonialism. The bitterness of Marlow's recollection suggests Conrad's strong bias against colonialism, which he seems to be imparting to the reader by expressing Marlow’s difficulties.
The imagery of light and dark clearly corresponds to the tension already evident between civilization and savagery. The Thames River is called a "gateway to civilization" because it leads to and from the civilized city of London. It is important to note that the city is always described in stark contrast with its dark surroundings, which are so amorphous as to be either water or land.
The vivid language of maps becomes more interesting when we consider that the word “darkness” retains its traditional meaning of evil and dread. The fact that Marlow applies the concept of darkness to conquered territories may indicate Conrad’s negative view of colonialism. We read clearly that colonists are only exploiting the weakness of others. Their spreading over the world is no nobler than violence and thievery. On the map, places that are blank and devoid of outside interference are apparently the most desirable for certain people.
Darkness has another meaning that retains deep resonance—a color of skin. Much of this chapter describes Marlow's first encounters with and observations of the natives of the African Congo. The darkness of their skin is always mentioned. At first glance, Marlow describes them as "mostly black and naked, moving about like ants." While in the shade, "dark things" seem to stir feebly. There is absolutely no differentiation between dark animals and dark people. Even the rags worn by the native people are described as tails. "Black shapes" crouch on the ground, and "creatures" walk on all fours to get a drink from the river. They are called shadows: reflections of humans, not substantial enough to be real. Marlow observes the piece of white string on a young man, and he is taken aback by how much the whiteness stands out against the darkness, thinking about the string's probable European origin. He cannot seem to conceive of mixing black and white. Conrad portrays Marlow’s experience of otherness to such an extreme, and with such literary care, that it is hard to see Conrad simply expressing his own experience through Marlow, although Conrad likely was well aware of his own and others’ impressions of such places and did have a choice in how to present them. Writing through Marlow’s experience is a choice that leads us to look through Marlow’s eyes at the darkness he sees.
It is not accidental that Marlow is the only person on the Thames boat who is named. He is a complex character while, even in England, the others are presented not so much as individuals as with titles that name their occupations. Marlow is distinct from them as well; he belongs to no category. He is a man "who does not represent his class" because he crosses boundaries. His reaction to the African natives may not be sensitive by modern standards, but he is more engaged than the other officers at the stations. The Chief Accountant dismisses the cries of a dying black man as merely irritating. Marlow's gesture of offering a biscuit to the young boy with the white string appears to be somewhat considerate. But it also seems condescending, which seems to be more of a character trait than a racist tendency. Marlow can think of nothing else to do as he looks into the boy's vacant eyes. Marlow means well, and despite his individual character he is partly a product of his society.
Immediately following the encounter with the young boy, he meets the Chief Accountant, who is perfectly attired with collar, cuffs, jacket, and all the rest. He refers to him as "amazing" and a "miracle." We observe at this moment the distinctions between savagery and civilization as perceived by Marlow. The diction demonstrates a type of hero worship for this man. His starched collars and cuffs are achievements of character, and Marlow respects him on this basis. It is far too early for readers to think we understand what Marlow is all about.
Beyond Marlow’s distinction of savagery and civilization, we have a window into Conrad’s distinction when we consider his presentation of colonialism through Marlow and the colonists. The bitter irony here is that those who look the most civilized are actually the most savage. Indeed, the institution of colonialism is referred to as a "flabby, pretending, weak-eyed devil." Everything it touches turns sour: the station is an administrative nightmare, and decaying machinery lies everywhere. Marlow takes this situation, however, as indicative of a poor work ethic, which he despises. For this reason he is drawn to the blustering accountant, who is a hard worker if nothing else. Marlow, in his own bumbling way, does occasionally try to relate to the natives.
The sense of time throughout the chapter is highly controlled. Conrad purposely glides over certain events while he examines others in minute detail. He does this in order to build suspicion about the place to which Marlow has committed himself. Notice that he painstakingly describes precursor events such as the doctor's visit and all conversations that involve the unseen character Kurtz. Thus begins Marlow's consuming obsession with this man.
So far, Marlow’s interest in Kurtz is more or less inactive and does not inspire fear. Perfectly placed leading questions such as the one about a history of family insanity have the desired effect, however, of alerting readers to a rather fishy situation. That Marlow ignores all of these warnings creates some dramatic irony; it will take him longer to arrive at conclusions that the reader has already reached.
It also is important to recognize that Marlow is telling a story. His recollections have a hazy, dreamy quality. The narrative is thus an examination of human spirit through his perspective, which is quite subjective. Thus, we should question how trustworthy the narrative speakers are. This situation puts even more distance between Conrad’s perspective and the perspective taken by characters in the story. The outside narrator only refers to what Marlow says and does; all others are ignored, and we understand their perspective only through Marlow’s account of what they say and do. Marlow selects the facts (even though Conrad ultimately selects them). Readers interested in this topic should consider in particular Marlow's perception of the African environment, which develops into the novella’s larger themes.
So far as Kurtz is concerned, there has been incomplete communication. Marlow and the reader know him, but not much, yet. He seems sinister; people discuss him in a hushed manner, making sure to praise him. The fact that nobody has anything negative to say about him is suspicious, suggesting that they are all terribly anxious to stay on his good side. The portrait of the blind woman holding a torch, in the first agent's room, suggests the failing of Kurtz: perhaps he has blindly traveled into a situation and has become absorbed in it, much as the woman is absorbed into the darkness of the painting (despite the torch, she is painted in insufficient light). This preemptive warning is useful to keep in mind as we consider subsequent chapters.
Heart of Darkness explores the issues surrounding imperialism in complicated ways. As Marlow travels from the Outer Station to the Central Station and finally up the river to the Inner Station, he encounters scenes of torture, cruelty, and near-slavery. At the very least, the incidental scenery of the book offers a harsh picture of colonial enterprise. The impetus behind Marlow’s adventures, too, has to do with the hypocrisy inherent in the rhetoric used to justify imperialism. The men who work for the Company describe what they do as “trade,” and their treatment of native Africans is part of a benevolent project of “civilization.” Kurtz, on the other hand, is open about the fact that he does not trade but rather takes ivory by force, and he describes his own treatment of the natives with the words “suppression” and “extermination”: he does not hide the fact that he rules through violence and intimidation. His perverse honesty leads to his downfall, as his success threatens to expose the evil practices behind European activity in Africa.
However, for Marlow as much as for Kurtz or for the Company, Africans in this book are mostly objects: Marlow refers to his helmsman as a piece of machinery, and Kurtz’s African mistress is at best a piece of statuary. It can be argued thatHeart of Darkness participates in an oppression of nonwhites that is much more sinister and much harder to remedy than the open abuses of Kurtz or the Company’s men. Africans become for Marlow a mere backdrop, a human screen against which he can play out his philosophical and existential struggles. Their existence and their exoticism enable his self-contemplation. This kind of dehumanization is harder to identify than colonial violence or open racism. While Heart of Darkness offers a powerful condemnation of the hypocritical operations of imperialism, it also presents a set of issues surrounding race that is ultimately more troubling.
A novella, Heart of Darkness is Joseph Conrad’s most famous work and a foundational text on the subject of colonialism. Heart of Darkness is based in part on a trip that Conrad took through modern-day Congo during his years as a sailor. He captained a ship that sailed down the Congo River. Conrad gave up this mission because an illness forced him to return to England, where he worked on his novella almost a decade later.
Conrad’s works, Heart of Darkness in particular, provide a bridge between Victorian values and the ideals of modernism. Like their Victorian predecessors, these novels rely on traditional ideas of heroism, which are nevertheless under constant attack in a changing world and in places far from England. Women occupy traditional roles as arbiters of domesticity and morality, yet they are almost never present in the narrative; instead, the concepts of “home” and “civilization” exist merely as hypocritical ideals, meaningless to men for whom survival is in constant doubt. While the threats that Conrad’s characters face are concrete ones—illness, violence, conspiracy—they nevertheless acquire a philosophical character. Like much of the best modernist literature produced in the early decades of the twentieth century, Heart of Darkness is as much about alienation, confusion, and profound doubt as it is about imperialism.
The presence of ill characters in the novella illustrates the fact that Heart of Darkness is, at least in part, autobiographical. Many speculations have been made about the identity of various characters, such as the Manager, or Kurtz, most recently and perhaps most accurately in Adam Hochschild’s King Leopold’s Ghost. But the geographical, as well as biographical, vagueness of the novel--which is one of its most artistic, haunting characteristics--make it almost impossible to pin down these details for sure.
Heart of Darkness first appeared in a three-part series in Blackwood Magazine in 1899. It was published as a complete novella in 1904. It has since been referred to by many authors and poets. Its most famous lines are both from Kurtz: “exterminate the brutes,” and Kurtz's deathbed utterance, “the horror! The horror!”
Francis Ford Coppola directed the film version, Apocalypse Now, in which the action occurs in Vietnam in 1979.
This novella is unusual in that the author does not name most of the characters in his book, other than assigning them titles that describe their larger organizational goals. It is not quite an allegory, while he does allow them some individual characteristics of speech and dress, but they are for the most part stand-ins for larger groups. The obvious exception is Marlow, and his reaction against the colonial structures supported by people with names like “the Manager” and “the Lawyer” place him slightly outside this system. Groupthink is evident in named groups like the pilgrims and the natives. These groups have a few outstanding members, such as the native woman of arresting beauty or the red-haired pilgrim drunk with bloodthirstiness, but they mostly move together, make the same decisions, and have the same intentions. Conrad critiques such patterns, in which individual in a society think like other members of their group without stopping to think for themselves. Although Marlow is by no means a heroic character, Conrad does illustrate the need for individual thought by singling him out.
Although there is controversy over whether Conrad is critiquing colonialism or not, it is clear that he is critiquing religion. The two groups in the novel, the pilgrims and the natives, are linked by having religious beliefs, and the pilgrims seem at least as bloodthirsty as the natives. The rite in the woods that Marlow describes seems alien but certainly no more dangerous than the ambush. One of the seemingly admirable characteristics of Kurtz, as presented by Conrad, is that he seems just as compelled by African religion as by Christianity but seems beholden to neither. Marlow genuinely admires his ability to independently critique religions. He may not agree with Kurtz’s evaluation, but he respects Kurtz's ability to have his own opinions in the face of the various religious traditions he encounters.
A logical way to begin analyzing the tale is by applying the title to the novel. "Darkness" is a problematic word with several meanings. It is initially mentioned in the context of maps, where places of darkness have been colored in once they have been explored and settled by colonists. The map is an important symbol. It is a guide, a record of exploration. The incomplete map has a dual purpose in that maps unlock mysteries, on the one hand, by laying out the geography of unknown lands for new visitors, and on the other hand, by creating new mystery and inspiring new curiosity about the lands listed as unknown, in addition to new questions about what is only partly known. The river is another important symbol, perhaps our first symbol of the “heart,” which is itself a symbol of the human spirit. Always moving, not very predictable, the gateway to a wider world, it is an excellent metaphor for Marlow's trajectory. Marlow says that as a child he had a "passion" for maps, for the "glories of exploration." Although this description seems positive, it also sounds ominous. Marlow's tone is of one who recalls childhood notions with bitterness and regret.
The cause of this regret is evident in the first description of Marlow. His sallow skin and sunken cheeks do not portray him as healthy or happy. He has had the chance to explore, but apparently the experience has ruined him. This is Conrad's way of arranging the overall structure of the novella. The audience understands that this is to be a recollection, a tale that will account for Marlow's presently shaky, impenetrable state. The author is also presupposing knowledge of colonialism. The bitterness of Marlow's recollection suggests Conrad's strong bias against colonialism, which he seems to be imparting to the reader by expressing Marlow’s difficulties.
The imagery of light and dark clearly corresponds to the tension already evident between civilization and savagery. The Thames River is called a "gateway to civilization" because it leads to and from the civilized city of London. It is important to note that the city is always described in stark contrast with its dark surroundings, which are so amorphous as to be either water or land.
The vivid language of maps becomes more interesting when we consider that the word “darkness” retains its traditional meaning of evil and dread. The fact that Marlow applies the concept of darkness to conquered territories may indicate Conrad’s negative view of colonialism. We read clearly that colonists are only exploiting the weakness of others. Their spreading over the world is no nobler than violence and thievery. On the map, places that are blank and devoid of outside interference are apparently the most desirable for certain people.
Darkness has another meaning that retains deep resonance—a color of skin. Much of this chapter describes Marlow's first encounters with and observations of the natives of the African Congo. The darkness of their skin is always mentioned. At first glance, Marlow describes them as "mostly black and naked, moving about like ants." While in the shade, "dark things" seem to stir feebly. There is absolutely no differentiation between dark animals and dark people. Even the rags worn by the native people are described as tails. "Black shapes" crouch on the ground, and "creatures" walk on all fours to get a drink from the river. They are called shadows: reflections of humans, not substantial enough to be real. Marlow observes the piece of white string on a young man, and he is taken aback by how much the whiteness stands out against the darkness, thinking about the string's probable European origin. He cannot seem to conceive of mixing black and white. Conrad portrays Marlow’s experience of otherness to such an extreme, and with such literary care, that it is hard to see Conrad simply expressing his own experience through Marlow, although Conrad likely was well aware of his own and others’ impressions of such places and did have a choice in how to present them. Writing through Marlow’s experience is a choice that leads us to look through Marlow’s eyes at the darkness he sees.
It is not accidental that Marlow is the only person on the Thames boat who is named. He is a complex character while, even in England, the others are presented not so much as individuals as with titles that name their occupations. Marlow is distinct from them as well; he belongs to no category. He is a man "who does not represent his class" because he crosses boundaries. His reaction to the African natives may not be sensitive by modern standards, but he is more engaged than the other officers at the stations. The Chief Accountant dismisses the cries of a dying black man as merely irritating. Marlow's gesture of offering a biscuit to the young boy with the white string appears to be somewhat considerate. But it also seems condescending, which seems to be more of a character trait than a racist tendency. Marlow can think of nothing else to do as he looks into the boy's vacant eyes. Marlow means well, and despite his individual character he is partly a product of his society.
Immediately following the encounter with the young boy, he meets the Chief Accountant, who is perfectly attired with collar, cuffs, jacket, and all the rest. He refers to him as "amazing" and a "miracle." We observe at this moment the distinctions between savagery and civilization as perceived by Marlow. The diction demonstrates a type of hero worship for this man. His starched collars and cuffs are achievements of character, and Marlow respects him on this basis. It is far too early for readers to think we understand what Marlow is all about.
Beyond Marlow’s distinction of savagery and civilization, we have a window into Conrad’s distinction when we consider his presentation of colonialism through Marlow and the colonists. The bitter irony here is that those who look the most civilized are actually the most savage. Indeed, the institution of colonialism is referred to as a "flabby, pretending, weak-eyed devil." Everything it touches turns sour: the station is an administrative nightmare, and decaying machinery lies everywhere. Marlow takes this situation, however, as indicative of a poor work ethic, which he despises. For this reason he is drawn to the blustering accountant, who is a hard worker if nothing else. Marlow, in his own bumbling way, does occasionally try to relate to the natives.
The sense of time throughout the chapter is highly controlled. Conrad purposely glides over certain events while he examines others in minute detail. He does this in order to build suspicion about the place to which Marlow has committed himself. Notice that he painstakingly describes precursor events such as the doctor's visit and all conversations that involve the unseen character Kurtz. Thus begins Marlow's consuming obsession with this man.
So far, Marlow’s interest in Kurtz is more or less inactive and does not inspire fear. Perfectly placed leading questions such as the one about a history of family insanity have the desired effect, however, of alerting readers to a rather fishy situation. That Marlow ignores all of these warnings creates some dramatic irony; it will take him longer to arrive at conclusions that the reader has already reached.
It also is important to recognize that Marlow is telling a story. His recollections have a hazy, dreamy quality. The narrative is thus an examination of human spirit through his perspective, which is quite subjective. Thus, we should question how trustworthy the narrative speakers are. This situation puts even more distance between Conrad’s perspective and the perspective taken by characters in the story. The outside narrator only refers to what Marlow says and does; all others are ignored, and we understand their perspective only through Marlow’s account of what they say and do. Marlow selects the facts (even though Conrad ultimately selects them). Readers interested in this topic should consider in particular Marlow's perception of the African environment, which develops into the novella’s larger themes.
So far as Kurtz is concerned, there has been incomplete communication. Marlow and the reader know him, but not much, yet. He seems sinister; people discuss him in a hushed manner, making sure to praise him. The fact that nobody has anything negative to say about him is suspicious, suggesting that they are all terribly anxious to stay on his good side. The portrait of the blind woman holding a torch, in the first agent's room, suggests the failing of Kurtz: perhaps he has blindly traveled into a situation and has become absorbed in it, much as the woman is absorbed into the darkness of the painting (despite the torch, she is painted in insufficient light). This preemptive warning is useful to keep in mind as we consider subsequent chapters.
Heart of Darkness explores the issues surrounding imperialism in complicated ways. As Marlow travels from the Outer Station to the Central Station and finally up the river to the Inner Station, he encounters scenes of torture, cruelty, and near-slavery. At the very least, the incidental scenery of the book offers a harsh picture of colonial enterprise. The impetus behind Marlow’s adventures, too, has to do with the hypocrisy inherent in the rhetoric used to justify imperialism. The men who work for the Company describe what they do as “trade,” and their treatment of native Africans is part of a benevolent project of “civilization.” Kurtz, on the other hand, is open about the fact that he does not trade but rather takes ivory by force, and he describes his own treatment of the natives with the words “suppression” and “extermination”: he does not hide the fact that he rules through violence and intimidation. His perverse honesty leads to his downfall, as his success threatens to expose the evil practices behind European activity in Africa.
However, for Marlow as much as for Kurtz or for the Company, Africans in this book are mostly objects: Marlow refers to his helmsman as a piece of machinery, and Kurtz’s African mistress is at best a piece of statuary. It can be argued thatHeart of Darkness participates in an oppression of nonwhites that is much more sinister and much harder to remedy than the open abuses of Kurtz or the Company’s men. Africans become for Marlow a mere backdrop, a human screen against which he can play out his philosophical and existential struggles. Their existence and their exoticism enable his self-contemplation. This kind of dehumanization is harder to identify than colonial violence or open racism. While Heart of Darkness offers a powerful condemnation of the hypocritical operations of imperialism, it also presents a set of issues surrounding race that is ultimately more troubling.
May 7, 2023
*Update May 2023: After returning to this novel some years after my initial read, accompanied by the audio of the excellent Peter Dann, I almost certainly need to revisit my review. While listening to The Shadowline, I became enamored of Conrad's writing to such a degree that I set out to know the man's work in greater detail. Heart of Darkness stretches the mind and the soul. His prose is often, as I've recorded below, meandering and excessive. If seeking to imitate the impenetrable nature of the jungle surrounding Marlow, or perhaps his understanding of the inscrutable depths and nature of the human soul, Conrad succeeds quite well.
Interestingly, for those who deem the work "racist," I'd suggest that's part of the point of the story. It's not Conrad expressing any of his own views, but possibly Marlow, and then through the lens of someone who, himself, is critical of the ivory trade, what it's done to both Africans and Britains, making this "blank spot on a map," and its inhabitants nothing more than a means to glory, wealth, and empire. I think it's less about any one individual (least of all the author) expressing racist ideals, but the type of mindset imperialist conquest and exploitative economic pursuits fosters. It degrades all involved; the exploiting European "conquerors," interested only in ivory, it turns into competing savages, combating one another for recognition and standing within "the company"; while the native people of the land Marlow describes as "savages" become nothing more than living tools to be used by men like Kurtz. They are seen merely as obstacles and temporary tools or allies to further imperial aims.
The horror of the book is not merely in seeing what a man is capable of when he forfeits his soul (such as with Kurtz), it's also a subtle but withering criticism of the systems that produce such men. Truly, Kurtz himself could easily stand in for all of Imperialist Britain, or any of the colonial powers, his own soullessness the result of all relinquishment of consciousness in favor of his own recognized superiority, built on subjugation, cruelty, violence and exploitation. In such a place, when a man has forfeited his acknowledgment of anything greater than himself, God, a Supreme Being, or any type of governing moral authority, he, himself, becomes his own authority, he does what he pleases without restriction, and all ends justify his means, resulting in true depravity. In the end, Kurtrz realizing what he had traded his life for, and what it had gained him in the end, was the horror. He had seen himself become the monster; traded his soul, and for what? Ultimately, it profited him nothing. The other fear is that Marlow is on his own journey to become just such a thing, fighting with himself over its merits.
It is a dense work, in many important ways, and worth returning to, as I may do again. It's a story that deserves to be taken at half-speed, like the Nellie herself crawling up that interminable river on conscience. Marlow's words are worth pondering, giving them time to breathe, despite the fact the journey seeks its inexorable end in the nihilistic pointlessness of a man that has forfeited his entire self in the pursuit of wealth and recognition and, which, in the end, gives him nothing in return.
It's a complex novel, layering on top of what I perceive to be an almost unspoken and underlying search for human meaning (by Marlow andKurtz himself, no less), the complication and ramification of imperial colonization, the slavery of economy (for both African and Britain), the pathetic and spiteful human grasp at power, the almost insufferable and undeniable allure of curiosity, and the inevitable, swallowing, tragedy of death. I suspect, ultimately, as I return to this again, it will achieve five stars. I respect it deeply, despite its intensely dense nature. As for now, it rests at four.
Previous review:
I think it had whispered to him things about himself which he did not know, things of which he had no conception till he took counsel with this great solitude --and the whisper had proved irresistibly fascinating. It echoed loudly within him because he was hollow at the core...
Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad, is a book that I've been meaning to get to for some time. The theme and underlying story has influenced many other pieces of fiction so returning to the source has intrigued me. Man versus himself, combating his own inner depravity, is an especial interest of mine, and this book is purported to be one of the pivotal pieces of fiction on the topic.
This is an important book, no doubt, not because of the story it tells, but that it has powerful themes, and interesting metaphorical undertones. Our protagonist, Marlow, finds himself recalling the story of a trip he took up an African river to locate and assist a Mr. Kurtz, a man responsible for the largest ivory output for the area's trading company, because he was reported to be ill. Marlow covers the events that lead up to his appointment of his boat, the preparations necessary, the crew he takes with him, and the events that he faces in the fertile, dark, and primitive, African jungle.
We could have fancied ourselves the first of men taking possession of an accursed inheritance, to be subdued at the cost of profound anguish and of excessive toil.
I can't say that I enjoyed reading it, though it's growing on me. Not unlike the river we find ourselves traveling down in the story, I'd describe Conrad's writing as winding, choppy and ambiguous, and it was difficult to get through at times. Some scenes are very vivid, and nicely described while others are vague and practically abstract. Conrad does write the story from the perspective of the protagonist, Marlow, so it could just be his recollection of the events and methods of storytelling that he's using. Despite this, I find myself returning to the book, reading over passages, and pondering its themes and meanings. I certainly lean towards the allegorical and metaphorical in terms of my reading interests, and from that standpoint, it does not disappoint.
Heart of Darkness is reportedly the most scrutinized and studied book in literature. I don't know if that's true, though, if so, I can understand why; yet, there's part of me that understands that when we, the reader, is left to consider large ambiguities, we provide our own context and subtext, providing meaning and value we bring ourselves. Interestingly, with such a work as this, the subliminal meaning is actually quite fascinating. As Kurtz is able to peer into himself and see the true darkness, depravity, and horror that he is capable of, that lies within him, perhaps Conrad is masterfully allowing us a glimpse of ourselves. Whether we agree or accept it, is completely up to us. It also touches on the supposed dichotomy between 'civilized' culture and 'primitive' culture, and that the dividing line isn't as certain as many hope.
I'll likely read it again, if not in its entirety, then portions. The book has value, if for nothing else than as an inspirational piece to pay homage to in other, perhaps more readable, works. The central theme that man, when left to his own devices, unchecked, is corruptible, and when following that path to its deepest, darkest roots, there lies horror beyond description is sorrowful, sobering, and frightening; that the line between good and evil, light and dark, is the same in both 'primitive' and 'cultured' and it's the simple individual choices that can either spare us, or gradually expose us to the true darkness.
"The horror! The horror!"
Interestingly, for those who deem the work "racist," I'd suggest that's part of the point of the story. It's not Conrad expressing any of his own views, but possibly Marlow, and then through the lens of someone who, himself, is critical of the ivory trade, what it's done to both Africans and Britains, making this "blank spot on a map," and its inhabitants nothing more than a means to glory, wealth, and empire. I think it's less about any one individual (least of all the author) expressing racist ideals, but the type of mindset imperialist conquest and exploitative economic pursuits fosters. It degrades all involved; the exploiting European "conquerors," interested only in ivory, it turns into competing savages, combating one another for recognition and standing within "the company"; while the native people of the land Marlow describes as "savages" become nothing more than living tools to be used by men like Kurtz. They are seen merely as obstacles and temporary tools or allies to further imperial aims.
The horror of the book is not merely in seeing what a man is capable of when he forfeits his soul (such as with Kurtz), it's also a subtle but withering criticism of the systems that produce such men. Truly, Kurtz himself could easily stand in for all of Imperialist Britain, or any of the colonial powers, his own soullessness the result of all relinquishment of consciousness in favor of his own recognized superiority, built on subjugation, cruelty, violence and exploitation. In such a place, when a man has forfeited his acknowledgment of anything greater than himself, God, a Supreme Being, or any type of governing moral authority, he, himself, becomes his own authority, he does what he pleases without restriction, and all ends justify his means, resulting in true depravity. In the end, Kurtrz realizing what he had traded his life for, and what it had gained him in the end, was the horror. He had seen himself become the monster; traded his soul, and for what? Ultimately, it profited him nothing. The other fear is that Marlow is on his own journey to become just such a thing, fighting with himself over its merits.
It is a dense work, in many important ways, and worth returning to, as I may do again. It's a story that deserves to be taken at half-speed, like the Nellie herself crawling up that interminable river on conscience. Marlow's words are worth pondering, giving them time to breathe, despite the fact the journey seeks its inexorable end in the nihilistic pointlessness of a man that has forfeited his entire self in the pursuit of wealth and recognition and, which, in the end, gives him nothing in return.
It's a complex novel, layering on top of what I perceive to be an almost unspoken and underlying search for human meaning (by Marlow andKurtz himself, no less), the complication and ramification of imperial colonization, the slavery of economy (for both African and Britain), the pathetic and spiteful human grasp at power, the almost insufferable and undeniable allure of curiosity, and the inevitable, swallowing, tragedy of death. I suspect, ultimately, as I return to this again, it will achieve five stars. I respect it deeply, despite its intensely dense nature. As for now, it rests at four.
Previous review:
I think it had whispered to him things about himself which he did not know, things of which he had no conception till he took counsel with this great solitude --and the whisper had proved irresistibly fascinating. It echoed loudly within him because he was hollow at the core...
Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad, is a book that I've been meaning to get to for some time. The theme and underlying story has influenced many other pieces of fiction so returning to the source has intrigued me. Man versus himself, combating his own inner depravity, is an especial interest of mine, and this book is purported to be one of the pivotal pieces of fiction on the topic.
This is an important book, no doubt, not because of the story it tells, but that it has powerful themes, and interesting metaphorical undertones. Our protagonist, Marlow, finds himself recalling the story of a trip he took up an African river to locate and assist a Mr. Kurtz, a man responsible for the largest ivory output for the area's trading company, because he was reported to be ill. Marlow covers the events that lead up to his appointment of his boat, the preparations necessary, the crew he takes with him, and the events that he faces in the fertile, dark, and primitive, African jungle.
We could have fancied ourselves the first of men taking possession of an accursed inheritance, to be subdued at the cost of profound anguish and of excessive toil.
I can't say that I enjoyed reading it, though it's growing on me. Not unlike the river we find ourselves traveling down in the story, I'd describe Conrad's writing as winding, choppy and ambiguous, and it was difficult to get through at times. Some scenes are very vivid, and nicely described while others are vague and practically abstract. Conrad does write the story from the perspective of the protagonist, Marlow, so it could just be his recollection of the events and methods of storytelling that he's using. Despite this, I find myself returning to the book, reading over passages, and pondering its themes and meanings. I certainly lean towards the allegorical and metaphorical in terms of my reading interests, and from that standpoint, it does not disappoint.
Heart of Darkness is reportedly the most scrutinized and studied book in literature. I don't know if that's true, though, if so, I can understand why; yet, there's part of me that understands that when we, the reader, is left to consider large ambiguities, we provide our own context and subtext, providing meaning and value we bring ourselves. Interestingly, with such a work as this, the subliminal meaning is actually quite fascinating. As Kurtz is able to peer into himself and see the true darkness, depravity, and horror that he is capable of, that lies within him, perhaps Conrad is masterfully allowing us a glimpse of ourselves. Whether we agree or accept it, is completely up to us. It also touches on the supposed dichotomy between 'civilized' culture and 'primitive' culture, and that the dividing line isn't as certain as many hope.
I'll likely read it again, if not in its entirety, then portions. The book has value, if for nothing else than as an inspirational piece to pay homage to in other, perhaps more readable, works. The central theme that man, when left to his own devices, unchecked, is corruptible, and when following that path to its deepest, darkest roots, there lies horror beyond description is sorrowful, sobering, and frightening; that the line between good and evil, light and dark, is the same in both 'primitive' and 'cultured' and it's the simple individual choices that can either spare us, or gradually expose us to the true darkness.
"The horror! The horror!"
November 25, 2018
Joseph Conrad was born Józef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski on December 3, 1857, in Berdichev (now Berdychiv), Ukraine. His parents, Apollo and Evelina (nee Bobrowska) Korzeniowski, were members of the Polish noble class. They were also Polish patriots who conspired against oppressive Russian rule; as a consequence, they were arrested and sent to live in the Russian province of Vologda with their 4-year-old son. When Conrad's parents died several years later, he was raised by an uncle in Poland.
Conrad's education was erratic: He was first tutored by his literary father, then attended school in Krakow and received further private schooling. At the age of 16, Conrad left Poland and traveled to the port city of Marseilles, France, where he began his years as a mariner.
After his sea-faring years, Conrad began to put down roots on land. In 1896 he married Jessie Emmeline George, daughter of a bookseller; they had two sons. He also had friendships with prominent writers such as John Galsworthy, Ford Madox Ford and H.G. Wells.
Conrad began his own literary career in 1895 with the publication of his first novel, Almayer's Folly, an adventure tale set in the Borneo jungles. Before the turn of the century he wrote two of his most famous and enduring novels. Lord Jim (1900) is the story of an outcast young sailor who comes to terms with his past acts of cowardice and eventually becomes the leader of a small South Seas country. Heart of Darkness (1902) is a novella describing a British man's journey deep into the Congo of Africa, where he encounters the cruel and mysterious Kurtz, a European trader who has established himself as a ruler of the native people there.
Conrad's education was erratic: He was first tutored by his literary father, then attended school in Krakow and received further private schooling. At the age of 16, Conrad left Poland and traveled to the port city of Marseilles, France, where he began his years as a mariner.
After his sea-faring years, Conrad began to put down roots on land. In 1896 he married Jessie Emmeline George, daughter of a bookseller; they had two sons. He also had friendships with prominent writers such as John Galsworthy, Ford Madox Ford and H.G. Wells.
Conrad began his own literary career in 1895 with the publication of his first novel, Almayer's Folly, an adventure tale set in the Borneo jungles. Before the turn of the century he wrote two of his most famous and enduring novels. Lord Jim (1900) is the story of an outcast young sailor who comes to terms with his past acts of cowardice and eventually becomes the leader of a small South Seas country. Heart of Darkness (1902) is a novella describing a British man's journey deep into the Congo of Africa, where he encounters the cruel and mysterious Kurtz, a European trader who has established himself as a ruler of the native people there.
June 21, 2025
This was my first experience reading Joseph Conrad. In this series of four semi-related short stories, I found that my enjoyment of each story increased successively.
The first story, Youth, I didn't like.
The last story, The Secret Sharer, I loved, more than any other.
I suspect that my enjoyment increased parallel to my understanding of the writing of Conrad--my ability to read it as it should be read. So, the most famous story in the middle, Heart Of Darkness, I believe I will enjoy much more in a future rereading .
Next, Nostromo. I want to read that book and picture in my mind the David Lean directed ( AND Steven Spielberg produced) film that never was.
The first story, Youth, I didn't like.
The last story, The Secret Sharer, I loved, more than any other.
I suspect that my enjoyment increased parallel to my understanding of the writing of Conrad--my ability to read it as it should be read. So, the most famous story in the middle, Heart Of Darkness, I believe I will enjoy much more in a future rereading .
Next, Nostromo. I want to read that book and picture in my mind the David Lean directed ( AND Steven Spielberg produced) film that never was.
June 21, 2025
it took me almost 11 months to finish this. heart of darkness was a slow read, especially since it's a narration about a narrator most of the time. there is a lot of keen kernals of memorable sentence or thoughts, but not enough to lift my opinion. the final short stories were more engaging, about struggle and death. The Return was the most intriguing of all, albeit not my favorite.
February 3, 2022
Conrad always impresses me with his vocabulary and mastery of the language. He conveys so many horrific emotions and acts with such few words. Truly a classic novel. Highly recommend for anyone who wants to be familiar with the darker aspects of human nature.
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