Joseph Conrad Books

Often regarded as Conrad's masterwork, Nostromo is also Conrad's darkest novel, filled with betrayals at all levels and offering little hope for man's redemption. A novel of huge scope and political intrigue, it is also a novel in which no character actually wins. All must accept the ironies which fate has dealt them. Setting the novel in the imaginary South American country of Costaguana, the story centers around a silver mine in the mountains outside of the capital, Sulaco, vividly depicting its allure and the price each character pays for its success.

When Charles Gould, returns from England to claim and reopen the rich silver mine he has inherited from his father, he has good intentions-- to provide jobs for the peasants and contribute to the economy of the town at the same time that he also profits. Soon, however, he becomes obsessed with wealth and power, and as the political climate gets hotter, he must pay off government officials, bandits, the church, and various armed revolutionaries to be able to work. Each of these groups is vividly depicted as working for its own ends and not for the good of the people, and with their goals focused on the real world, these characters have no self-awareness, nor do they develop it during the novel.

In contrast to these "unrealized" humans, Conrad presents several characters who develop some self-awareness through their experiences. Nostromo, a local legend, is a man of principle who has always kept his word. Martin Decoud, a newspaper man, is a nihilist who has editorialized against the revolution, though he has yet to test himself. Dr. Monygham, captured during a past revolution, broke under torture, and is now seeking absolution by fighting against this revolution. And the good and long-suffering wife of Charles Gould, Dona Emilia, spends her time helping others.

When Nostromo agrees to protect a load of silver from revolutionaries by taking it out to sea, Conrad provides a bleak commentary on idealism and human nature. The conclusion, which includes a love story that feels tacked on, reveals Conrad's darkest self and offers little hope of change and even less hope for man's redemption. Rich in atmosphere, vibrant in description, filled with characters representing all walks of life and philosophy, and set in a country where revolution is a way of life, the novel is full of dark portents and bleak political outcomes. Mary Whipple

Often regarded as Conrad's masterwork, Nostromo is also Conrad's darkest novel, filled with betrayals at all levels and offering little hope for man's redemption. A novel of huge scope and political intrigue, it is also a novel in which no character actually wins. All must accept the ironies which fate has dealt them. Setting the novel in the imaginary South American country of Costaguana, the story centers around a silver mine in the mountains outside of the capital, Sulaco, vividly depicting its allure and the price each character pays for its success.

When Charles Gould, returns from England to claim and reopen the rich silver mine he has inherited from his father, he has good intentions-- to provide jobs for the peasants and contribute to the economy of the town at the same time that he also profits. Soon, however, he becomes obsessed with wealth and power, and as the political climate gets hotter, he must pay off government officials, bandits, the church, and various armed revolutionaries to be able to work. Each of these groups is vividly depicted as working for its own ends and not for the good of the people, and with their goals focused on the real world, these characters have no self-awareness, nor do they develop it during the novel.

In contrast to these "unrealized" humans, Conrad presents several characters who develop some self-awareness through their experiences. Nostromo, a local legend, is a man of principle who has always kept his word. Martin Decoud, a newspaper man, is a nihilist who has editorialized against the revolution, though he has yet to test himself. Dr. Monygham, captured during a past revolution, broke under torture, and is now seeking absolution by fighting against this revolution. And the good and long-suffering wife of Charles Gould, Dona Emilia spends her time helping others.

When Nostromo agrees to protect a load of silver from revolutionaries by taking it out to sea, Conrad provides a bleak commentary on idealism and human nature. The conclusion, which includes a love story that feels tacked on, reveals Conrad's darkest self and offers little hope of change and even less hope for man's redemption. Rich in atmosphere, vibrant in description, filled with characters representing all walks of life and philosophy, and set in a country where revolution is a way of life, the novel is full of dark portents and bleak political outcomes. Mary Whipple

An "incorruptible" man (Nostromo) becomes corrupted by the dishonest acquisition of "filthy lucre" (silver ingots) when the lighter (barge) he is operating with the silver on it sinks; he is able to hide the ingots on an island for his later personal gain. His impeccable reputation allows the citizens to believe the silver is actually on the bottom of the sea. Nostromo justifies his actions by concluding that he was duped and used by the silver company - the self-deluded victim. In the last section, considered the weakest by some critics but magnificent all the same, Nostromo falls in love with two sisters (Giselle and Linda) and they with him; he chooses falsely by choosing Giselle: it is Linda at the novel's end who cries her heart out for him after his death. But by now Nostromo, once hero to all, is making very bad decisions.

Many consider this Conrad's greatest novel, and in it he paints a very large picture of corruption, revolution, love, and material gain; as in all his novels the writing is suspenseful and dramatic. Nostromo, on his death-bed, confesses to the kindly Mrs. Gould (the mine owner's wife) how he had stolen the silver, but she refuses to let him tell her where he hid it: "Isn't there enough treasure without it to make everybody in the world miserable?" Indeed. Money is the destructive force here: only Linda's love for the man is worth praising.

I read this book for a graduate Humanities course. Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, written in 1899 is a seminal work about the ills of colonialism, as well as a postmodern look at the subject of mankind. Conrad's book had a crucial influence on five important works of the twentieth century: J. G. Frazier's book The Golden Bough. Jessie L. Weston's book From Ritual to Romance, T. S. Elliott's poem the Waste Land, Joseph Campbell's Hero with a Thousand Faces, and Francis Ford Coppolla's movie Apocalypse Now, screenplay by John Milius, was based on Conrad's book. Another interesting fact is that this work was read by Orson Welle's Mercury Theater Players on the radio and was to be his first movie. After doing some work on it he abandoned the project to do Citizen Kane! I would have loved to of seen what Welles could have done with this story. Conrad's story is so riveting in part, because he himself served as a riverboat captain. High school teachers and college professors who have discussed this book in thousands of classrooms over the years tend to do so in terms of Freud, Jung, and Nietzsche; of classical myth, Victorian innocence, and original sin; of postmodernism, postcolonialism, and poststructuralism.

Just a taste of the plot reels you in! Marlow, the narrator of Heart of Darkness and Conrad's alter ego, is hired by an ivory-trading company to sail a steamboat up an unnamed river whose shape on the map resembles "an immense snake uncoiled, with its head in the sea, its body at rest curving afar over a vast country and its tail lost in the depths of the land" (8). His destination is a post where the company's brilliant, ambitious star agent, Mr. Kurtz, is stationed. Kurtz has collected legendary quantities of ivory, but, Marlow learns along the way, is also rumored to have sunk into unspecified savagery. Marlow's steamer survives an attack by blacks and picks up a load of ivory and the ill Kurtz; Kurtz, talking of his grandiose plans, dies on board as they travel, downstream.

Sketched with only a few bold strokes, Kurtz's image has nonetheless remained in the memories of millions of readers: the lone white agent far up the great river, with his dreams of grandeur,his great store of precious ivory, and his fiefdom carved out of the African jungle. Perhaps more than anything, we remember Marlow, on the steamboat, looking through binoculars at what he thinks are ornamental knobs atop the fence posts in front of Kurtz's house and then finding that each is "black, dried, sunken, with closed eyelids-a head that seemed to sleep at the top of that pole, and with the shrunken dry lips showing a narrow white line of the teeth" (57).

I especially became interested in Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness from the movie Apocalypse Now. There is a scene in the movie that shows Colonel Kurtz's nightstand in his cave. T. S. Elliott's poem the Waste Land is one of three books on the nightstand. The other two are Jessie L. Weston's book From Ritual to Romance, and J. G. Frazier's book The Golden Bough. Anyone wanting to understand the movie Apocalypse Now, especially the character of Colonel Kurtz, and what Milius and Copolla are trying to tell their audience need to read these three books as well as Conrad's Heart of Darkness!

As a graduate student reading in philosophy and history I recommend this book for anyone interested in literature, myth, history, philosophy, religion and fans of Apocalypse Now.

These stories give an eminent picture of Conrad's craftsmanship in building short tales and in brushing a vitally true portrait of live on the sea. For him, `the sea is the only world that counted' and ships `the test of manliness, of courage and fidelity - and of love.'

`Typhoon' relates the brutal battle between a ship (and its crew) against the combined forces of raging winds and water. The violent struggle for survival sharpens the already strained relations between friends and foes within the crew and the passengers (Chinese coolies).
In `Falk: A Reminiscence', the storyteller becomes a match-maker between a German girl and a `cannibal'. Cannibalism was forced on him by the cruel sea, which has `no respect for decency. An elemental force is ruthlessly frank.'
In `The Shadow Line' (`warning one that the region of early youth must be left behind'), the storyteller relates his first job as a captain: `a ship, spellbound, unable to live, to get into the world (till I came), like an enchanted princess.' The journey becomes a nightmare with a sick crew, no medicines and no wind. After the voyage, `well I am no longer a youngster.'

In these stories, the elemental forces of nature are combined with professional and emotional frontal collisions between crew members at all levels and even with jealous bureaucrats. `Human nature is, I fear, not very nice right trough. There are ugly spots in it.'

Not to be missed.

First a comment about this remarkable Modern Library Edition - it has an absurd introduction by Robert Kaplan, which is deliciously skwered in an Afterword by the volume's editor, Peter Mallios. Kaplan reads Conrad's book with all the sophistication one brings to a Tom Clancy novel, claiming to draw insight into how the modern state has to defend itself. In reality, Conrad clearly was condemning the police in the novel for wanting to put an 'enemy of the state' in prison for a crime he didn't commit.

Ignore the media frenzy - don't read this book for insight into 9-11 or Osama bin Laden, because, if you're a serious reader, you really won't find much there. Read this book because it is an excellent early Modernist novel, filled with beautifully crafted language, and themes, forms, and techniques that became key elements of mature Modern literature.

Based on a true incident, Conrad tells the story of Verloc, the secret agent provocateur who is given the task of blowing up the Royal Observatory in London as a way of heaping scorn on anarchists in England. He sends his mentally deficient brother-in-law Stevie with the bomb, which blows up before he can reach the observatory. Stevie is annihilated and when Verloc's wife (Winnie) finds out what happens to her brother, she stabs Verloc with a carving knife.

Conrad insisted his novel was not a political work dealing with anarchy but was only a "work of the imagination." But he captured the seediness and moral deficiencies of everyone involved, from Verloc to Chief Inspector Heat. The last chapter, where Verloc's now-widow is duped by anarchist Tom Ossipon, who steals all her money, is rank with irony. The best chapter, though, the one around which the high reputation of the book revolves, is chapter 11: from its "She [Winnie] knows everything now" to Verloc's stabbing at the end, it ranks as one of Conrad's most suspenseful and dramatic chapters in all his books. [Alfred Hitchcock made use of the incidents in this work for his movie "Sabotage," though Hitch changed the ending and moved the time of the story up to the 1930s.]

Joseph Conrad is not a `moral' author. In this short story, a captain takes unacceptable risks with his ship in order to give a murderer a chance to swim to his coast of freedom.
Conrad is not Herman Melville, the Calvinist author of `Billy Budd', who takes a totally contrary view on the same accident. The captain in this story considers the man accused of manslaughter as his `double'.
For Conrad, the sea (`the sea has no respect for decency. An elementary force is ruthlessly frank.' - Falk: A Reminiscence) and life on the sea have their own morality. This is symbolized here by the fact that the strangulation continues during the typhoon. `I was overdone with the terrific weather. It was no time for gentlemanly reproof ... they found us jammed together' (after the typhoon).

This story is a perfect example of Conrad's craftsmanship and his view on life.
Not to be missed.

An insightful and extremely helpful analysis of mostly British, and some American, horror literature from the late nineteenth-century. Navarette's knowledge of the field is impressive, all the more so considering that this is an area often overlooked by academics. Most professors in her field have read works like The Great God Pan only once in their lives, crammed in between cartloads of other works read in a feverish white heat during doctoral studies. Other writers, such as Robert W. Chambers, lapse in obscurity even among the professors of that era. What Navarette does is to examine works ranging from The Great God Pan to The King in Yellow, from the fin-de-siecle exoticism of M.P. Shiel to the psychological horror of a canonical writer like Conrad, and to establish a network of degeneration and decadence among these books. In the process, she reveals that the concerns of the horror literature of this period are not self-enclosed, but rather are inseparable from the relevant thought and discourse that characterized the non-horror literature of that era. As a horror afficianado and literature student, I found this book to be exactly what I've been seeking for years. Wholeheartedly recommended.

The story Prince Roman recalls Conrad's earliest years in his native Poland. His adventures in the Orient are related in his first novel, Almayer's Folly, and in the masterful shorter works, Karain and The Planter of Malata. Conrad's long ears at sea are chronicled in Falk; his arrival in England as a young Polish exile in Amy Foster. An Outpost of Progress centers around Conrad's fateful journey to the Congo; and his preoccupation with political depotism and treachery is strongly evident in The Warrior's Soul and in his splendid novel, The Secret Agent.