Typhoon and Other Tales

Expectations. That is the key to understanding and enjoying Joseph Conrad, in general, and Typhoon and Other Stories, in particular.

Initially, Conrad was regarded as much an adventure writer as a composer of "serious literature." His works appeared not only in more upscale serial magazines but also in those we might consider "pulps" or in the gray areas, rubbing shoulders with works by Haggard, Mundy, or even Achmed Abdullah. This shows that the divide between "literature" and "fiction" is artificial.

Conrad, for much of his literary life and into the mid-twentieth century, was seen and marketed as an adventure writer. These stories, such as "Typhoon," "Falk," "Amy Foster," and "To-morrow," serve as great examples of both "literature" and "adventure fiction."

Conrad is exploring the peculiarities of the human psyche. In confined spaces like a ship at sea, a remote port, or English coastal villages, he paints a picture of people torn by their emotional experiences.

It's how he tells his tales that makes the difference. Not just the exquisite prose but the off-centering of his protagonists. We come to know MacWhirr through Jukes' narration in "Typhoon," similar to Marlow and Jim in Lord Jim. Maybe it's really Jukes we're exploring.

The same goes for "Falk." Half the story is about a young captain, and we don't get to Falk until halfway. In "Amy Foster," Yanko is an outsider in an English village, like Jim or Almayer in alien civilizations. In "To-morrow," all seems insane as Conrad explores the facades people construct to hide their inner madness.

I first read this book 36 years ago. Now, after many decades, instead of seeing adventure and the need to break bonds, I think Conrad was telling us about the futility of choices and how fate leads us despite our protests.

This short Oxford University Press edition presents an enticing collection. It includes four captivating short stories by Joseph Conrad: Typhoon, Falk, Amy Foster, and The Secret Sharer, along with a highly useful introduction. I found it truly delightful. I don't usually gravitate towards shorter fiction, but these stories were remarkably fulfilling, exhibiting a sense of completeness and wholeness as works of art. Nabokov once asserted in his Lectures on Literature that it would require an entire lifetime to properly understand just one novel. However, Conrad's short stories offer the opportunity to familiarize oneself with his unique writing craft in a much shorter span of time. It is far easier to grasp the structure of the whole from a short story than from a full-length novel.

Typhoon is very much a quintessential Conrad story. I would highly recommend it as an introduction to his more intricate works. Essentially, it is a tale about the true nature of a character being put to the test by extreme conditions at sea. There is more depth to the characters than meets the eye initially, and a seemingly incompetent captain emerges as a hero. It reminded me strongly of Lord Jim.

Falk, on the other hand, was not my particular favorite. Although I recognize that its theme of appetite and hunger was effectively conveyed. Another point I would like to note is that I felt the introduction simplified the moral ambiguity of Falk too much for my liking. (Perhaps the critic was utilizing Conrad's letters in a way that I'm not aware of.) I don't think it's merely a sympathetic story of survival. I suspect that the narrator of the story senses something primitive in Falk that is unappealing to him. Even though the narrator doesn't share Schomberg's thoughtless moral condemnation, he does wonder why Falk didn't commit suicide instead of resorting to cannibalism. (That's typically a Joseph Conrad-style moral conundrum to ponder, by the way.)

Amy Foster was the short story that deeply touched me. It seems to encapsulate all of Conrad's greatest fears about being isolated in a foreign country that has become one's home. The story of Yanko Goral lost on the shores of Kent, although it may bear similarities to other Eastern European narratives of the time, is deeply personal in Conrad's retelling. I was heartbroken to read in the introduction that Conrad suffered a fever during his honeymoon, during which he spoke in a'strange language' that his wife couldn't understand. He later guessed that he must have been speaking Polish.

The Secret Sharer is an amazing work of art in its own right. But I must confess that even as I can easily envision critics penning pages and pages about doppelgangers and potential homosexuality, I was intrigued by the very strange treatment of justice and injustice in this tale. It seemed very different from Conrad's other stories.

For people who think that Conrad is a limited writer, these four excellent short stories provide a significant challenge to this view.

There are some grounds for considering that the stories share the usual limitations of Conrad. All of them are set in or around the sea. The stories are predominantly about men, even ‘Amy Foster’. The men are white Europeans, and short shrift is given to non-European and non-white characters. In short, the stories do share some of the usual traits of a Conrad work.

However, in subject matter, tone, intensity and style, they present an amazing richness that shows Conrad at his most skilful and interesting. No story is quite like another, and yet all four stories show Conrad at the height of his artistic powers.

The volume opens with ‘Typhoon’. Captain MacWhirr is the experienced and comically dull skipper of the Nan-Shan, which is transporting Chinese coolies home. MacWhirr ignores warnings about a coming tempest, and the ship is soon caught up in the terrible weather. During the storm, MacWhirr manages to keep the ship steady and protect the Chinese labourers in the hold. When the labourers’ money comes loose during the typhoon and it's impossible to decide who it belongs to, MacWhirr solves the problem by distributing the money equally among the passengers.

The story was nearly given the unpromising title of ‘Equitable Division’, and one might be tempted to see MacWhirr’s solution as communism in action. Such an interpretation could only be offered by someone who does not understand Joseph Conrad.

In fact, MacWhirr’s solution is decidedly colonial. The Chinese coolies (Chinamen as the story calls them) are not individualised. They are seen as a collective panicking mass of people speaking in a strange, disconcerting language. None of them speaks up for themselves to MacWhirr, and it is left to the white Captain to hand down a solution. This solution is also a decidedly authoritarian and conservative one, made by a strong leader.

At the outset of the story, one might be forgiven for thinking that MacWhirr is a ridiculous and unworthy captain. Conrad has great fun with MacWhirr’s predictability and lack of imagination. MacWhirr’s conversation skills are so poor that he is bemused that his crew members enjoy talking, and he imagines that they must be repeating the same things. He fails to understand Jukes’ dislike of sailing under a Siamese flag and can only conceive that Jukes is objecting to the design of the flag, rather than the implied patriotic slur of a British crew sailing under a foreign flag.

We hear a little bit about MacWhirr’s domestic arrangements. MacWhirr has a haughty wife and daughter who do not look forward to the prospect of him retiring and coming home. He writes long dull letters to his wife, often commenting on the good weather he is having (somewhat ironically in the light of the story).

MacWhirr’s insensitivity and lack of imagination may make him seem incompetent, as he totally fails to avoid a typhoon despite warnings from the crew. However, I do not believe that Conrad intends us to judge MacWhirr too harshly. MacWhirr is an old hand who responds to situations that lie within the wisdom of his personal experience. He is therefore unprepared for the sheer magnitude of the storm that follows.

While MacWhirr is understandably irresponsible in failing to take the Nan-Shan out of harm’s way, he rises to the occasion when the typhoon strikes. Most of the crew struggle to cope with the unprecedented storm that is raging around them, but MacWhirr remains capable and responsible, handing out the necessary orders for the ship’s preservation.

It is MacWhirr who thinks to look after the Chinese labourers in his hold and to ask his first mate to prevent them coming to harm. After the typhoon, it is again MacWhirr who keeps his head when the crew fear that the coolies will attack them in a bid to retrieve their money. Instead, MacWhirr comes up with the only fair method for redistributing the money among the coolies, giving them all an equal amount.

We should therefore see MacWhirr as the unlikely hero. Like Singleton in The Nigger of the Narcissus, he is unheroic and rather at a loss when on land. However, he has the hardiness of spirit and innate wisdom to deal with a crisis. Notably one of the characters is called Solomon, and MacWhirr’s final compromise with the coolies has a hint of the Biblical Solomon about it.

‘Typhoon’ is a fine tale. Aside from the interest arising from Conrad’s views about the good qualities of command and the ability to find a workable solution to the problems caused at sea, the story also contains some bravura descriptions of the tempest that are genuinely exciting to read.

Whilst the humour in ‘Typhoon’ is gentle, the humour in ‘Falk’ is of a more black nature. The story is narrated Marlowe-style by an inexperienced captain who befriends a German family. Like MacWhirr, they have never experienced the tempests of the sea and their lives are secluded and happy. Onto the scene comes Falk, a local shipper who controls the only tug boat in the area and charges rapacious prices for its use.

Falk is in love with the niece of the family and sees the narrator as a rival. This leads to some bad behaviour on Falk’s part. However, the necessity of getting his boat out to sea forces the Captain to talk amicably to Falk. The Captain reassures Falk about his lack of interest in the niece and even agrees to intercede on his behalf.

This intervention is welcomed by both the niece and Hermann, the uncle. However, Falk has an appalling secret from his past that he insists on sharing. During a previous ill-fated voyage, the crew were trapped without provisions, and he resorted to cannibalism. This revelation horrifies Hermann, but ultimately he stifles his disgust and the match between Falk and the niece is successfully agreed.

The story is an extraordinary one because it takes a dark idea and fails to present it with any of the horror that we might expect from the writer of Heart of Darkness. Indeed, there is a good deal of anticipatory irony and humour in the story since the characters observe Falk’s aversion to eating meat and his apparent hunger for the girl, and fail to realise how these elements are connected.

Conrad often deals with the fallibility of humans under severe strain, but this is only partly true of Falk. To some extent, you could see the cannibalism as part of his nature. He hungers after the niece. He adopts ruthless methods to undermine his apparent rival. He is willing to exploit his position as owner of a tug to charge extortionate amounts. His personality is driven by basic hungers and urges.

Falk also has no self-condemnation for his actions. He feels horror and guilt, but insists that it was bad luck. You could see his motives as unconsciously Darwinian. When he kills the carpenter on the ship and eats him, it is seen as a case of the strong man winning out.

Indeed Conrad is hardly condemning of Falk’s acts. He seems understanding of the pressures that would make a man of Falk’s nature act this way. Hermann’s anger on finding out about it is seen as purely ridiculous, and he is angrier that Falk told him than at what Falk did. Indeed, Falk’s confession does not prevent him from having a happy ending and marrying the niece.

While the lighter tone ‘Falk’ is disconcerting, the story works very well. It unfolds beautifully in its development up to the shock revelation. The actual account of Falk’s cannibalism occupies a surprisingly short amount of the story, and the focus is more on the reactions of those who hear the story. As with ‘Typhoon’ it shows complacent characters brought into contact with something outside their normal experience and forced to find a compromise solution. Only this time even the solution is broadly comical.

If ‘Falk’ is surprisingly cheerful in tone, this cannot be said of ‘Amy Foster’. This is one of the most heartbreaking stories that Conrad ever wrote. It concerns a central European called Yanko who is washed up in England after a shipwreck. Landing in a strange country and not speaking the language, his arrival is at first greeted with fear and confusion by the locals.

Yanko is menaced by the townfolk until finally he is trapped in a wood-lodge. It is left to a rather insipid young lady called Amy Foster to take pity on him and provide him with food. A local neighbour agrees to employ Yanko. As Yanko learns his new job and begins to learn English, he becomes more and more useful. After he saves the life of his employer’s grand-daughter, he gains some level of acceptance in the town.

This acceptance is tested when he and Amy Foster decide to marry, but he gets his way. Sadly although they have a child together, the marriage proves unhappy. Amy is finally repelled by his strangeness. The final crisis occurs when Yanko falls dangerously ill. He begs for water but in his delirium he speaks in his native language, and Amy flees from the house in fright, leaving him to die.

This is a poignant tale and gives us an insight into some of Conrad’s own deep-seated fears as a Polish immigrant in England. He too was married to an often uncomprehending English wife, and the tale is almost a nightmarish projection of what might happen to him. It contains another recurring theme in Conrad’s works – the essential loneliness of the human condition.

The local community is portrayed in a negative light here. Yanko is appalled that they treated him far worse on his arrival than the people in his homeland would have treated beggars. He remarks at one point that if he had not seen a cross on one of the women, he would not have realised that this was a Christian country. (Indeed, Yanko is a believer in a benevolent Providence, but this belief is betrayed, and he dies crying out, ‘Why?’)

He finds limited acceptance from the community – especially his employer, the narrator (a local doctor) and (to begin with) Amy Foster. However, she has none of the qualities of a supportive wife. We get a glimpse of this in an earlier incident where we hear that she looked after a parrot, but when a cat got in and threatened the parrot she ran away and left it to its fate because its cries were so human. This anticipates the way she treats Yanko.

‘Amy Foster’ is a stark and powerful story, and the very brevity and bare bones of its telling allows the story to seem strangely allegorical like a fable. It is not an allegory of course, but it is a tale that can appeal to any outsider who fears ultimate rejection by their loved ones.

The tone of the first three stories is fairly clear, if a little surprising in ‘Falk’. By contrast, ‘The Secret Sharer’ is ambiguous in the telling. It is one of those tales that seems to tease us with an extra meaning that we cannot quite pin down. The narrator is once more a young man on his first voyage as Captain of a ship. While alone on the deck, he is startled by a young man climbing aboard. The man is an officer from a neighbouring ship who murdered one of his crew members and is now a fugitive.

The fugitive (Leggatt) feels that he was justified because the victim was a bully who refused to obey an order at a time when the ship was in peril from a storm. The narrator conceals Leggatt in his cabin because he feels a strange affinity with the murderer. The two men look alike and they both went to Conway, a training ship. Eventually the Captain agrees to take his ship close to an island at great risk to the safety of his ship and crew so that Leggatt can safely swim ashore.

‘The Secret Sharer’ cries out for psychological interpretations, especially those of a Freudian nature. The two men look similar, suggesting a dual identity. Even the cabin in which Leggatt is concealed is in an ‘L’ shape, reflecting both his name and a letter that comprises two identical sticks, one fallen over. The title too hints at this. Leggatt is a sharer of more than just the secret of his concealment in the cabinet. He shares a resemblance to the Captain.

There are certainly some characteristic Conrad ideas about the weakness and fallibility of humans. Had circumstances been different, the story suggests, then Leggatt and the Captain’s places might have been interchangeable. However, it is a mistake to see Leggatt as an imaginary or psychological projection of the Captain’s personality. The story is a concrete tale, and Leggatt’s existence is confirmed by others. We should also avoid seeing the story as a Jekyll and Hyde variation, as both men are morally ambiguous.

In fact, this gets more to the heart of the narrative. In so far as it is about psychological issues, it is more about the moral choices made by Leggatt and the Captain. On the surface, it might seem that Leggatt is the darker character, but this position is far more blurred. Leggatt kills a man to saves his ship from disaster. The Captain endangers his ship to save a known murderer. Right and wrong are uncertain. Was the Captain in the right to risk all to protect Leggatt, and was Leggatt justified in his murder?

There is also the question about the Captain’s motives in protecting Leggatt. These are never explained to the reader but seem to lie in the strange resemblance between the two men. The Captain is almost protecting himself or an alternative version of what he might have been. This lends itself to other interpretations.

Some see a form of elitism in the actions of the Captain. He and Leggatt were trained in the same place, and both men are intelligent and well-educated. They are more compatible with one another than they are with their stupid crew members. This creates a freemasonry between the two men. Another reading of the story is to see a homosexual connection between the two men, and some of the language the Captain uses might suggest an attraction between them.

While ‘The Secret Sharer’ may not bear out all the psychological interpretations placed on it, the story is a fascinating one that appeals to the dark recesses of the imagination, and its ambiguity leaves the reader guessing.

The four stories here are very different, but there are a few shared characteristics. Three of them are seafaring adventures, and even the hero of ‘Amy Foster’ comes from out of the sea.

Women are reduced to a supporting role in the action and almost treated with some kind of resentment by Conrad. MacWhirr’s female family members are superior and do not appreciate him. The women of Hermann’s family live in a bubble, away from the harsh realities that might force a man to resort to cannibalism to survive. Only the niece stands out as a woman of some strength, yet she is barely individualised at all – more of a warrior-like ideal for Falk to aspire to.

Amy Foster proves unworthy of her gentle husband and deserts him during his sickness. Much emphasis is given to her dullness and insipidity. There are no women in ‘The Secret Sharer’, but we are told that the Captain of Leggatt’s ship had a wife on board, further weakening the Captain’s resolve.

All four stories present the characters with a problem that comes from outside their comfort and experience and which will test their resolve and strength. Two of the stories involve newly-appointed Captains who feel responsible for their crew. Two of the stories involve experienced seafarers who have had an easy time at sea and who are not prepared for revelations of a shocking nature.

The successful resolution of the stories depends on how well the characters adjust to the change. MacWhirr proves capable in the crisis. There is a point in the middle of the typhoon when he notices that the readings suggest the weather will get far worse, and his mind is now expanded enough to take this seriously, even though it lies outside his experience. He has the courage, flexibility and good moral sense to get his crew through the danger.

Falk finds another solution to problems at sea. It is a brutal one, but one that keeps him alive and has been forced on him by harsh necessity. The narrating Captain has a different problem (how to get persuade Falk to tow his ship out to sea), and he solves this problem with diplomacy and persuasion. Hermann has to make a choice about whether to allow a one-time cannibal to marry into his family, and he gives in to pragmatism and expediency.

The other stories present less clear-cut solutions to the problem at hand. Yanko tries hard to adjust to living in a strange land, but he is let down and left to die. The town fails to adjust to the problem of having a stranger in their midst, never allowing him to be accepted as one of their own. Amy Foster’s failure is the greatest. After seeming more accepting of Yanko’s outlandishness at the beginning, she is finally repelled and frightened by him and abandons him at a critical moment.

The Captain in ‘The Secret Sharer’ has to make a choice about what he should do with an intruder and self-confessed murderer. He responds by concealing Leggatt until he can drop Leggatt off at an island for safety, but he creates more problems for himself by nearly causing his ship to wreck. It is unclear whether his solution was the morally right one or not. Similarly Leggatt solved a problem for his own shipmates and protected his ship in a storm, but he also murdered a man in the process.

It is easy to overlook these stories, as people tend to see Conrad’s longer novels as his most significant work. This is a shame, as the four stories are among the best that Conrad ever wrote and offer a more concentrated artistic unity and purpose than even many of Conrad’s most famous books.

I really liked the collection of stories. It was evident that I was initially drawn to the book because of the story Typhoon. However, Falk and The Secret Sharer are also quite good.

Typhoon and Falk both require some time to build up momentum. I can understand it in the case of Typhoon as it is a more substantial story. But Falk seems to meander about aimlessly with the Hermann's from Hamburg before finally focusing on the main character.

The Secret Sharer is probably the most gripping among them, while Amy Foster is the least well realized. In my opinion, the Amy Foster character isn't developed thoroughly enough to make the story believable.

Perhaps in their era, the sailing terminology was familiar to a significant number of people. But for me, it just went over my head, so to speak.

Overall, these stories have definitely piqued my interest and encouraged me to read more works by Conrad.

Great book, great classic!

This simple exclamation holds a world of meaning. A great book is not just a collection of words on paper; it is a masterpiece that has the power to transport us to different times, places, and experiences. It can make us laugh, cry, think, and feel.

A great classic, on the other hand, is a book that has stood the test of time. It has been read and loved by generations of people and has become an important part of our cultural heritage. Classics like "Pride and Prejudice," "To Kill a Mockingbird," and "1984" continue to inspire and influence readers today.

Whether you're a book lover or just looking for a good read, there's nothing quite like picking up a great book or classic. So go ahead, explore the wonderful world of literature, and discover the magic that lies within the pages of these amazing works.

I read this book after "Between Land and Sea" and still like this one more. To put it simply, while "Between Land and Sea" is a book set against the backdrop of the sea, analyzing the boundaries between land and sea - between freedom and suffering, between indulgence and calculation, with a high artistic nature; then "The Big Storm" takes a more landlocked backdrop and still shows the plight and somewhat realistic human world. This makes me reduce my love compared to before.

The story I like the most is the last one, "Tomorrow", with a lot of pent-up emotions and a lot of hidden implications of rejecting the present. It transcends time like the first two stories in "Between Land and Sea", and is still valuable to read 100 years later.

The most tiring story is "Falk" and, like "The Seven Islands" in "Between Land and Sea", the theme is a bit old and not very suitable in this era. In addition, the first story is also rather difficult, closely following the land of Ms. Anh Hoa because of her perseverance in translation. If it were me, I would have run away without shoes.

And I also hope that FORMApubli will release volume 20.5 next time. It can be in accordance with the golden ratio, but please make the text bigger and hold it more firmly so that the reading experience is not affected.

It has been a truly remarkable reading year.

One significant revelation that I have come to (admittedly a bit late in the game) is my deep admiration for Joseph Conrad. The three novellas, namely 'Typhoon', 'Falk', and 'The Secret Sharer', rank among the very best works I have ever had the pleasure of reading. His prose style is simply captivating, drawing me in and holding my attention from the very first sentence.

Certainly, I could have discovered his literary genius decades ago, but the reality is that we simply cannot explore the works of every single author on every shelf. I recall becoming a fan of H.G. Wells at the tender age of 11, Dickens at 12, and Robert Louis Stevenson at 14. However, reading these literary giants did not necessarily prompt me to explore their equally renowned contemporaries. For instance, I didn't develop a passion for Chesterton until just last year.

Years ago, a rather grumpy individual accused me of only indulging in 'old' books and never bothering to read the works of my 'peers'. This couldn't be further from the truth. I have numerous favorite authors who are still alive and thriving, and I sincerely hope they will continue to grace us with their literary contributions for a long time to come. Nevertheless, there is a certain charm and allure in pre-self-conscious literature, especially within the rough time period spanning from 1880 to 1930, that I find simply irresistible.

I am currently making an effort to delve into several classics that I had previously overlooked. To be honest, I can't claim that this has been an entirely satisfying reading experience thus far.

Among the tales, "The Secret Sharer" was perhaps the most captivating one. It is extremely dark in tone, filled with rich descriptions and an abundance of angst. The story creates a sense of mystery and unease that lingers in your mind.

Nevertheless, what is notable is that these stories have a certain staying power. Even after you finish reading them, they continue to haunt you and prompt you to think deeply. They make you reflect on various themes such as human nature, morality, and the hidden aspects of our lives.

Although the reading process may not always be smooth, it is through engaging with these classics that we can gain a deeper understanding of literature and the human condition.