‘I let him run on, this papier-mâché Mephistopheles, and it seemed to me that if I tried I could poke my forefinger through him, and would find nothing inside but a little loose dirt, maybe.’ (p.182)

I had very mixed feelings for this book. The introduction gave me context on the racial politics that followed the publications of these stories, as well as Conrad’s own horror at the atrocities he personally witnessed in the Congo, which fuelled his disgust for European imperialism, and the stories themselves seemed to shed light upon these beliefs and experiences.
I was entirely captivated by ‘An Outpost of Progress’, which I think will remain with me for a very long time. I found ‘Karain: A Memory’ and ‘Youth: A Narrative’ entirely forgettable and almost droning in narrative style, though this might have been due to them following such an excellent first story. Because of this, I was sceptical as I launched into ‘Heart of Darkness’, but found it intense, captivating, and at times difficult to read in its honesty about the notions of the time (particularly in reference to the native population). The protagonist Charles Marlow’s attitude was both empathetic and yet still deeply racist from a modern perspective.
More than anything, the four texts gave a brutal insight into a mindset that, at that time, would have been considered almost garishly progressive, and now appears equally discriminatory.

The book reminds me a lot about Apocalypse Now: the main character travels through an exotic location and witnesses many weird situations to find a white man who has become a kind of legend, an object of worship for the indigenous people (and had lost his mind).
The attitude to the peoples being conquered in Africa is not typical for Conrad's contemporaries, the narrator at least understands that what white people did in Africa was dictated by greed, however, he doesn't see indigenous people as equals.
It is a thought-provoking book which I didn't really like.

Tres relatos que narran distintas historias y que tienen como fin ejemplificar las complejidades de la
Vida del hombre en la juventud, vida adulta y vejez a través de la vida en alta mar.

Llegué a este libro por el resto principal ‘El corazón de las tinieblas’ que desde la vida adulta de un marino nos adentra a la lejanía y oscura selva que rodea el Río Congo para explorar no solo la soledad, sino la locura y manías que desembocan en el exceso de poder y de oscuridad que todos tenemos a la espera de ser explotada. Sirve además, como inspiración del guión de la película ‘Apocalypse Now’.

Los otros dos relatos, hablan respectivamente sobre la expectativa y el optimismo de la juventud mientras que el tercero sobre las dificultades de la vejez y el orgullo con el que se debe llegar a esta etapa sin traicionarse a uno mismo.

Si bien no es mi tipo de lectura, reconozco la prosa de Conrad y la limpieza en sus párrafos. Especialmente recomendado para aquellos que disfrutan de la lectura marítima y la descripción de esta, mezclada con reflexiones introspectivas.

4/5⭐️

He leído "El corazón de las tinieblas" en cuatro o cinco ocasiones a lo largo de mi vida y en ninguna me ha convencido.
Todo lo que se le atribuye de mérito se encuentra velado, y es consecuencia del tipo de revista de corte colonial en la que salió publicada. Esa "oscuridad" y "densidad" están dictadas por el medio de edición, para que no llamase a escándalo en la Inglaterra de la época.

Los otros dos relatos (o novelas cortas) que acompañan este volumen me gustan mucho más. Sobre todo "En las últimas", que me parece formidable.

Nada que reprochar al bueno de Conrad.

I think this was a little over my head, apparently Conrad spoke like a half-dozen languages so maybe I lost something in the translation because I only speak one and 1/4. I got the main themes of imperialism, racism, the thin line between civilization and barbarism, but as for any specific thing that was happening in the book while I was reading, I'm really at a loss for. I did like "Apocalypse Now" though, for what it's worth.

I think anyone looking for "Apocalypse Now" in the first story would be disappointed because it's only the bare bones - or better said, Francis Ford Coppola fleshed it out into his own vision. I liked the second story better than the other two but the third ended well. As for the title story, it just didn't get me going; okay as an idea but never really captured the full madness of the characters, in my opinion.

Con todo lo que se ha escrito sobre Conrad parece un poco superfluo todo lo que pueda decir aquí, así que allá va una apreciación muy subjetiva.

De Conrad solo había leído Los duelistas, que me pareció extraordinario, así que era el momento de meterse El corazón de las tinieblas (no me gusta mucho esta traducción clásica). Este libro en concreto reúne tres cuentos/nouvelles: Juventud, El corazón de las tinieblas y En las últimas. Cada una de ellas trata de reflejar un estado del desarrollo humano, desde el impulso inconsciente de la juventud hasta el pragmatismo de la senectud, pasando por ese estado intermedio de incertidumbre vital que es la edad adulta y que se corresponde con El corazón de las tinieblas, sin duda la pieza estrella del libro.

Juventud es un relato sin un fondo excesivamente relevante, aunque sí maravillosamente escrito, porque si algo tiene Conrad es que escribe como los ángeles, y más en este relato en que antepone la acción (entre comillas, porque gran parte de la acción en este libro es realmente inacción) a la descripción, como es preceptivo en un relato de juventud. Muy bien, desde luego no a la altura de Los duelistas que ya conocía pero sí muy disfrutable como aperitivo.

A continuación El corazón de las tinieblas, una de esas obras que tienes miedo de leer porque... A ver si no te va a gustar. Bueno, pues pues prueba superada, no solo me ha gustado sino que me ha parecido magistral a muchos niveles, tanto formales como de contenido. E único problema que he tenido al leer este relato es que constantemente, de forma involuntaria, iba comparándolo con la película de Coppola, Apocalypse Now. Y supongo que es inevitable para cualquiera que haya visto la película, me temo. Kurtz, que, seamos sinceros, es la auténtica salsa de este guiso, me ha resultado más complejo en el texto que en la película, mientras que el narrador es, en ambos casos, un mero vehículo para la narración. Así que muy contento al comprobar que el texto no solo no defrauda, sino que se coloca al nivel o por encima de esos duelistas que ya me enamoraron. Aunque es literatura del siglo XIX (me da igual la fecha de publicación, que no he comprobado, pero el siglo XX no empieza hasta 1914, como mínimo), Conrad damuestras de su concisión y de su capacidad de convertir frases y conceptos complejos en una lectura fluida y amena. Olé por él.

En las últimas, que es el último relato del libro y el más largo, me ha costado un poco más. Creo haber entendido la intención de Conrad al dotar a esta historia crepuscular de descripciones morosas, e incluso puede que esa intención sea una decisión acertada, pero aún así, y desde el siglo XXI, me ha costado abrirme paso a través de sus páginas. La historia tiene una carga emotiva importante, como corresponde al período vital reflejado, y quizá ese haya sido uno de los motivos por los que no me ha gustado tanto; uno siempre siente cierto recelo cuando apelan a la vena sensible.

Por último, mencionar que, leído en 2014, es difícil abstraerse de la posición que las mujeres ocupan en la literatura de Conrad. Pro a pesar de la dificultad, merece la pena intentarlo. La recompensa es grande.

I found this book wildly difficult to rate. On the one hand each tale is gripping and entertaining. On the other hand, goddamn, they're racist. Nugugi Wa Thion'go started the line of criticism related to "Heart of Darkness." I think it all depends on whether you read Conrad as satirizing colonialism, which he clearly has scorn for; or whether you read him as offering a minor rejoinder to fix the system and keep it going. Regardless, his depiction of blacks is one dimensional and the representation of Africans is exociticizing. Putting aside all that, these tales are well-written and confoundingly ambiguous.

While I know and can appreciate that this book is considered a classic by many, it's not my cup of tea. I'm a guy who likes good, solid fiction, based on physical principles. HEART OF DARKNESS is the opposite: metaphysical, spiritual and dwelling on concepts and themes rather than a more reality-based narrative.

At its worst, this is a string of metaphors and imagery, linked by a light plot that doesn't go very far. Conrad visited the locales he writes about, and there is certainly local flavour here. I loved the classic line "The horror, the horror!" and the circumstances surrounding it, and it was a pleasure to find the book was so short.

But this isn't what I like to read, and the book had the effect of making me not want to try any more of Conrad's work.

Il titolo è ingannevole. Il mare è uno dei.protagonisti indiscussi, ma ancor di più lo sono i personaggi e la maestria che Conrad mostra non solo nell'analizzare le profonde oscurità della loro anima tormentata, ma anche il senso d'esclusione che molti di loro avvertono e che, forse, riflette i sentimenti del Konrad polacco naturalizzato inglese. Una piacevolissima scoperta. Consiglio la lettura. Domani, Il ritorno e Amy Forster sono i racconti che ho amato di più.

This guy really likes boats.

Dear Joseph Conrad and all your readers of "Heart of Darkness",

If I wanted to read a 'script for a scenograph' I would have asked for the "directors cut edition".
Be careful what you wish for. This book is so terribly "langweilig" to read and I have yet to finish it without getting so frustrated that I might shoot somebody right in the head.
There is a way in which it is possible to describe the world with the beauty of its objects and tell the story of how they moved about in this before-mentioned world. Joseph Conrad's book is not one of these cases.
Instead go fecth "The French Lieutenant's Woman". It is a perfect example of attaching objects to a story. The mental picture you get (in John Fowles' book) is so surreal it's almost real and not like Joseph Conrad's big blurry mess.
The main thing is, that it seems like the author, like so many others of his time, completely forgot what was in focus: the story. And here instead, he started focusing on the descriptions of objects, forgetting to tell the tale. HE is describing and describing and describing and describing all the objects of the world, one by one, and two by two and that project, frankly, seems tiresome to me. It is like that of the Myth of Sisyfos. A neverending job, alas therefore an irrelevant one in this case, seeing as the book has an ending.
I could write, scribble and scream page up and down on 'how wrongly this book was written', but do read it. Somewhere in the forrest of all the crap-scenario of words there is to be found a great story. A little gem.
Go on. Challenge yourself to withdraw the nectar from the field of brown sticking cow shit.


Thank you.