I truly enjoyed this book. The positive elements within it managed to overshadow the at times somewhat awkward exploration of the titular theme. Just like in Victory, which I believe was Conrad's subsequent novel, Chance constructs towards a crucial climax. Most of the steps leading to that climax are deliberately driven by chance, which I felt was a bit too obvious.

However, I really appreciated the way Conrad wove the story together through the various encounters that Marlow had (by chance, of course). This gave the book the feel of a detective story, and Conrad managed to hint at this a little more subtly. It also enabled Conrad to explore some of the characters, especially Flora, from several different perspectives, resulting in some of his most powerful character work.

The book's ability to engage the reader and build anticipation towards the climax, despite the slightly heavy-handed use of chance, is a testament to Conrad's skill as a writer. The way the characters are developed and the story unfolds makes Chance a captivating read.

I found this book to be an absolute page-turner. It was truly difficult to put down once I started reading.

One aspect that I particularly relished was the use of multiple unreliable narrators. Each narrator presented their own version of events, which added a layer of complexity and intrigue to the story. It made me question the authenticity of each account and kept me on the edge of my seat, trying to figure out the truth.

Another fascinating element was the book's exploration of gender culture. It delved deep into the social constructs and expectations surrounding gender, challenging some of the traditional norms. This aspect added a thought-provoking dimension to the narrative and made me reflect on my own beliefs and assumptions about gender.

Overall, this book was a captivating read that combined a thrilling plot with a profound examination of important themes. I would highly recommend it to anyone looking for a book that is both entertaining and intellectually stimulating.

“Un pò noioso” which means “a bit boring” in Italian. Life can sometimes feel this way. Maybe it's when we have to do the same routine day in and day out. Going to work, coming home, and repeating the cycle. Or perhaps it's when we are stuck in a situation that seems to have no end. Like waiting in a long queue at the supermarket or sitting through a dull lecture. But boredom doesn't have to be a negative thing. It can also be a sign that we need to make a change. Maybe we should try a new hobby, explore a new place, or meet new people. By doing so, we can add some excitement and variety to our lives and turn that “un pò noioso” into something more interesting and fulfilling.

Conrad has always been an old gap for me. I had never read any of his novels. What has always held me back is his reputation as a heavy, laborious, and difficult author, and the lack of female characters. And before you judge me, you male readers, ask yourselves if you would willingly read a novel without men.

However, one cannot postpone it indefinitely. Therefore, I chose this one as a first approach, having learned that it is the story of a girl, even if it is obviously a minor work.

The story of Flora de Barral, lost in the world and saved by chance, is indeed beautiful and exciting. However, Conrad tells it in such a tortuous way that it puts a die-hard reader, I believe, to a severe test. We do not read her story directly. First, there are Mr. and Mrs. Fyne, friends of the girl, and then Officer Powell, the final witness, who tells it to friend Marlow, and Marlow tells it to the narrator, who has no name, and the narrator tells it to us. The reason for all these passages, which make the reading extremely slow and complicated because each narrator adds his own considerations, his own hypotheses, and his own sentences about women, is completely incomprehensible to me and weighs down the novel beyond words. And yet, I resisted until the end to find out how the rocambolesque adventure of Flora de Barral concludes. And the ending, in its own way surprising, is worth it.

Over the past hundred years, there may be several kilometers of shelves filled with writings about Joseph Conrad's work, his style, and the special elements of the narrator's position in many of his stories and novels. He often breaks the stories through different perspectives. An I-narrator, usually of indeterminate identity, sits with the actual narrator – often Charles Marlow, a former sailor whose position is also precarious as he often appears like an omnipresent, almost authorial narrator who can report on things he couldn't possibly know from his own experience. In texts like YOUTH (1898) or LORD JIM (1900), the narratives are broken multiple times and question themselves.

Whether Conrad was consciously aware of this almost postmodern twist in his stories to the fullest extent of the possibilities it opens up is another matter. Perhaps he also wanted to pay his respects to a completely different genre of stories, a genre that might today fall under "Oral History" or perhaps also under "Fairy Tale" – the sailor's yarn. Marlow's speech indeed sounds a bit like that. He has once heard a story or was involved himself on the periphery and now not only reproduces conversations and details with incredibly precise memory but also gives his interpretations of what was told. Only in HEART OF DARKNESS (1899), Conrad's in the eyes of many his best text, but also one of his most controversial, is Marlow an integral part of the action, here he tells from his own experience.

SPIEL DES ZUFALLS (CHANCE 1913; German translation by Ernst Wolfgang Freissler 1913/Berlin, 2020) is in many ways a novel that exemplarily shows Conrad's entire range of narrative potential, exhibits both the strengths and weaknesses of his stylistic elements, and seems to lead to extremes. This is even more noticeable since the story of the novel – perhaps it should be regarded as a marker of the author's mature work – is rather weak and the style stands out even more. Although it is a seafaring story – at least in the broadest sense – Conrad here mainly tells of a love that is subject to the game of chance indicated in the German title and threatens to break before it even fully blossoms. Marlow is at least peripherally involved himself as he gets to know the main character of his narrative, Flora de Barral, in a very precarious situation for her: She is on the verge of suicide and is about to throw herself off a cliff at the foot of which the vacationing Marlow happens to be taking a walk. From this point on – although much more convoluted and in a chronological sequence in a constant back and forth – Marlow unfolds to the unnamed I-narrator the story of the young woman's love for Captain Roderick Anthony, whom she – by chance – met when he visited his sister after fifteen years of absence and Flora had taken refuge with her. Since her father had committed a large-scale fraud and was sentenced to a multi-year prison term, the Fynes, as the couple is called, took her in to free her from the clutches of a strange family constellation. However, the Fynes are very skeptical about the connection. This, roughly speaking, is the first part of the narrative.

The second part then tells the events at sea. Captain Anthony takes Flora and her father on voyages, which is unusual in itself and doesn't go down well with the crew of the Ferndale. On the journey in question and the course of which Marlow in turn hears from the then second officer Powell, who himself only came to this position by chance, the developments culminate as there is more or less an open fight between the captain and her father over Flora. After her father tried to poison Anthony but he was saved by Powell, he takes his own life. Only through this loss, which is also a liberation, can the captain and Flora de Barral finally confess to each other and admit their love without restrictions.

As so often, it is hardly the outer narrative that matters here, but rather the psychological and moral aspects that come into conflict at specific points in the story and cancel each other out or undermine each other. Flora is protected by almost all those involved, should not find out what her father has done as much as possible and thus follows his narrative almost uncritically that he is the victim of a conspiracy. But she senses that the world is hostile to her and begins to regard herself as unlovable. Anthony, on the other hand, is a sea bear, a man who has never regarded love as a valid state for him and now succumbs to this young woman, almost still a teenage girl. But language is hardly his medium, which is why he can never explain himself adequately to her. The chain of misunderstandings and misinterpretations continues almost unhindered and is reflected by Conrad in the complexity of the narrative structure. Marlow knows Powell, but only by chance (by chance), likewise by chance he witnesses Flora's near-suicide, Powell becomes the second officer on the Ferndale by chance due to a name similarity with an employee in the charter office, and ultimately it is also by chance that Powell witnesses the attempted murder of Captain Anthony. Marlow now reproduces his findings – both the pure narrative and his reflections on it – only roughly chronologically and the reader eventually loses track of who told what to whom and when. This, one must assume, is exactly what Conrad wanted.

The actual story is also – especially for today's readers – only difficult to follow. It is the story of a prevented love. It is prevented by social norms as well as by the inner tension of the characters, their psyche. And ultimately by common ideas of morality, of what is proper and what is not. What is more interesting is how Marlow reflects on it. For he hardly holds back here. He meditates and ponders about women's rights and the nature and character of women in general. In doing so, Conrad presents a Marlow who, although he certainly advocates the rights of women, also presents himself – with constant reference to the fact that he is a bachelor himself and actually has no idea about women – as a rather self-assured misogynist. He constantly explains to the reader the nature of women in general and that of Flora de Barral in particular. He simply assumes what women can and cannot do, and here and there it becomes clear that Marlow is of the opinion that women cannot perform certain tasks and even if they undertake them and succeed, this still does not have the same value as work performed by men. Such passages are of course hardly bearable from today's perspective.

Here a similar field of interpretation opens up as has long been困扰 by the question of how Conrad stands on colonialism, imperialism, and consequently racism. Especially white, Western readers who liked to defend Conrad against the accusation that he was simply an author of adventure stories for men, better: big boys, often like to point out that he saw the misery and need that imperialism and even more so colonialism brought to wide areas of the world on his many voyages. It is an argument that certainly cannot be completely dismissed, but at the same time one must always take the historical context into account. Conrad was also a privileged white man, although born in the Eastern European region, but through his life he had a career in the British Navy. And surely he was not a progressive despite all his openness to new ideas. Perhaps he was more liberal than many of his contemporaries and peers. This is not least illustrated by the fact that many literary scholars attributed a further horizon to him than was usual for other authors of his generation. Proust wrote about Paris, Joyce about Dublin, Hardy about an invented county – Wessex – just as Faulkner, a little younger than the mentioned writers, wrote about an imaginary county in Mississippi. They wrote about what they knew. Manageable societies in relatively clearly defined worlds. Conrad, due to his life, had seen much more of the world and probably really better understood what the European expansion meant for this world. That he questioned European superiority can hardly be deduced from his writings, however. And not least for this reason, HEART OF DARKNESS was harshly criticized by black literary scholars and described as thoroughly racist.

Similarly, one must probably consider the issue of women's rights, to which Conrad allegedly gives voice in CHANCE. If one reads it in the historical context, one could consider it a pure achievement that he reflects on questions like these in a longer text at all; if one considers it from the contemporary context of today's reader, the text is simply full of misogynistic and anti-feminist views. At least as expressed through Marlow's mouth. The never named I-narrator, who reproduces Marlow's extremely detailed narrative just as detailed, here functions as a corrective and sometimes questions Marlow's statements. Exactly this is one of the best examples of the precarious narrative situation that Conrad so masterfully knows how to create.

In Conrad's cosmos, SPIEL DES ZUFALLS is certainly not to be rated as a masterpiece. It is rather interesting for the aficionados and the completists. For the literary scholar, in turn, it is of interest because here Conrad's approach, his authorial program can be so excellently observed. Unlike many of his earlier stories, novels, and novellas, it also has a veritable happy ending, for after Flora's father has taken his own life, she and Captain Anthony – whose father, a special treat that Conrad inserts into the text, is supposed to have been a nationally famous poet – can live happily together at least until his untimely death in the sinking of the Ferndale. And when Marlow reports on the last pages how he recently met Flora again and was quickly able to function as a matchmaker between the young widow and the adoring Powell, the reader is released from this novel with an overall cozy feeling.

For Conrad, at least this seems to be beyond question, all human striving, his desired striving, his plans and projects are always subject to a higher fate that we can either name as such or declare as chance. The latter points to a world from which a guiding God has at least disappeared. A world in which the individual is as exposed to the deformities of nature – e.g. at sea – as to those of time and place where our fate places us. And to the deformities of our own soul. Flora de Barral is the daughter of a fraudster, Captain Anthony and his sister, Mrs. Fyne, are the children of a poet. They are all thus also children of a certain imprint, of a social as well as a spiritual nature. This can lead to self-loathing, as is the case with Flora, it can lead to settling in loneliness, as the captain was used to doing until he met Flora, but it can also lead to using the linguistic ability that was given to one to advocate for such extraordinary things as the rights of women. This is what Mrs. Fyne does and is at least richly disparaged for it by Marlow.

One thing is certain: That Flora does not jump off the cliff, that we even get to read the entire story resulting from her encounter with Marlow at the foot of that cliff, because Marlow knows Powell, that he sees at the right moment how Flora's father wants to poison the captain – these and several other events in this novel simply spring from the game of chance.

Conrad tells, through the hoarse voice of Captain Marlow, the story of a woman, Flora.

Her story begins with a tragic childhood, progresses through a turbulent adolescence, and finally reaches adulthood.

Flora is like a fire that burns despite the storm. She is the saddest and loneliest character in the book, yet at the same time, she is also the one around whom all the other characters revolve, starting from the misogynistic Marlow and ending with the kind Powell.

Conrad writes a complicated story, especially if read in English, precisely because there are so many temporal leaps, changes in narrators and points of view, some of which are also unreliable.

Certainly, if you are looking for an exciting novel full of action, this is not for you at all. The author has written a very slow, discursive novel where he dissects even the tiniest detail, sometimes even weighing down the reading and making it cumbersome.

However, Conrad has still managed to create unforgettable and human characters. Flora de Barral is an atypical female protagonist, shy, reserved, often silent, and yet one cannot help but fall in love with her, be charmed by her magnetic gaze that hides so many fragilities.

This is his novel, his story, and I invite everyone to read it, even if only to detest Marlow together.

Anything written by Conrad is truly worthy of being read, and this particular novel is no different. However, one must be prepared for the sexism that is reflected in the attitudes expressed towards women. Conrad, or at least the character Marlow, was not impervious to such views. Nevertheless, there is still a certain regard for the inherent strength and intelligence of the character Flora de Barral, who lies at the center of this story. The structural control and the way the tale unfolds clearly demonstrate Conrad's mastery. While this may not be my absolute favorite among his works, the skill with which Conrad weaves a story is always exciting and engaging. The Oxford Classics range is renowned for its highest quality, featuring useful introductions that enhance the reading experience. This makes this edition a very good choice for those interested in exploring Conrad's works.

Apparently, Conrad's only Bestseller

replaces the nature of evil and imperialism and The Sea and all that with a relatively conventional (and at times slightly creepy) love story. It's remarkable to think that so many people were 'well, ok' about a long, rambling, free-flowing, unreliable stream not so much of consciousness as of anecdote. In this story, the real point of the tale isn't really revealed until the last five minutes. Clearly, readers did have more patience in 1913. But their patience was rewarded here, in my opinion. It's silly and misogynistic, and its narrative flow is sometimes preposterous (Marlow has quite the ear for conversations he hasn't heard). However, it's also very good. The story manages to engage the reader despite its flaws. The characters are well-developed, and the setting is vividly described. The unconventional narrative style adds to the mystery and intrigue of the story. Overall, it's a unique and interesting read that is worth exploring.

I clearly understand the reason why people don't read Chance, and I truly believe it's a great shame. This work is like a dense thicket of Conrad's genius. At its core, there are concerns that people often overlook when exploring Conrad's works. He is not merely dabbling with aesthetic form. Instead, he is doing something similar to what Virginia Woolf will do shortly afterwards in Jacob's Room, but here it's applied to a female protagonist, Flora de Barral. She stands at the guarded heart of the novel as a thinking, frustrated, and profoundly complex character. This challenges Conrad's own instincts to predominantly write masculine characters. Just like in the subsequent novel Victory: an Island Tale, Conrad employs figures of malign yet human agency to incite dramatic actions in his other, more sympathetic characters. Additionally, he attempts to place a figure of flawed reason at the heart of his tale, and that figure is again Flora. The fact that people fixate on Marlowe and focus on the novel's aesthetic or perhaps biographical weakness is unfortunate. Because, despite its flaws, there is a devious and fascinating story here that is well worth uncovering.

In that era, women faced numerous challenges, especially when it came to coping without family.

Family was often the main source of support, both emotionally and financially. Without it, women had to find ways to fend for themselves.

Some women had to take on multiple jobs to make ends meet. They worked long hours in difficult conditions, often for low pay.

Others had to rely on the kindness of strangers or community organizations for help.

Despite these hardships, many women were able to persevere and build new lives for themselves.

They showed remarkable strength and resilience in the face of adversity, and their stories are an inspiration to us all.

Today, we continue to work towards creating a more equal and just society for women, where they have the support and opportunities they need to thrive.

On my first attempt at reading this work, I was truly put off by the unreliable narrators.

Right from the very beginning, the two Powells presented in such an intentionally confusing manner that it made it difficult for me to follow the story.

However, on my second attempt, I decided to ignore the rather bizarre shifts in point of view. Surprisingly, I was able to get through the text.

And then, on my third time reading it, something remarkable happened. I began to see a method to the madness.

It was as if the author had deliberately crafted these unreliable narrators and pov shifts to create a certain effect.

Perhaps it was to make the reader question what they were reading, to engage them on a deeper level.

Or maybe it was to add an element of mystery and intrigue to the story.

Whatever the reason, I now have a newfound appreciation for the work and the author's unique storytelling techniques.

I look forward to seeing what else this author has in store for us.

The story started off really well.

It immediately grabbed my interest and pulled me in. However, as it progressed, it seemed to slow down a bit.

Despite this, it was sustained by Conrad's masterful technical skill. Even when the story got a little mired or bogged down, his writing kept me engaged.

The ending was strong, though. It wrapped things up nicely and left me with a sense of satisfaction.

However, I was also a bit sad to reach the end. I had become so invested in the story and the characters that I didn't want it to be over.

Overall, it was a great read, and I would highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys well-written fiction.