Questo è uno di quei libri che mi fanno rimpiangere più che mai di non aver posseduto quella padronanza della lingua inglese che mi avrebbe consentito la lettura del testo originale.
In pochi giorni ne ho lette tre traduzioni (Capriolo, Di Biagi e Persichelli), continuando a confrontare le pagine scritte da Conrad con quelle in italiano. E sì che per Conrad l’inglese era la terza lingua, che iniziò a parlare solo da adulto. E sì che in fondo lui non aveva portato a termine gli studi ed era stato, per oltre metà della sua vita, un girovago uomo di mare; insomma tante cose è stato Conrad, tranne quello che viene definito un “letterato”. Di conseguenza potrebbe non spiegarsi la frustrazione che ho avvertito per essermi dovuta “accontentare” delle traduzioni in italiano del libro. Conrad è un grande condensatore della scrittura ed è riuscito in questo racconto, con un uso preciso, reiterato e spesso simbolico dei termini, a realizzare grandemente quella che lui stesso definisce la funzione della parola: qualcosa che “fa vedere, udire e sentire” il lettore. Un vero peccato quindi non poter leggere quelle precise parole.
La grandezza di Conrad, come molti commenti (Rosenkalvalier, sigurd, per esempio) ben evidenziano, è quella di saper raccontare altro rispetto a quello che si legge. È quella di aver scritto un romanzo di “avventura”, in cui l’avventura è sì il viaggio geografico lungo il Congo, nel cuore oscuro dell’Africa colonizzata, rapinata e massacrata dall’uomo bianco, ma è soprattuto il viaggio dentro l’uomo adulto nell’età moderna e nel senso della sua esistenza in una dimensione laica (qui l’ho sentito proprio come punto di rottura rispetto alla visione ottocentesca alla Dostoevskji o alla Tolstoj e anticipante la letteratura successiva). Conrad tesse così un racconto sulla condizione umana, un viaggio dentro le tenebre del cuore dell’uomo, un viaggio nel quale fortissima ed efficace è l’immagine della giungla che si richiude alle spalle del battello a vapore, quale metafora del punto di non ritorno.
“Gli ampi tratti di fiume ci si aprivano davanti e si richiudevano dietro di noi, come se la foresta si fosse spinta con calma attraverso l'acqua per sbarrarci la strada del ritorno. Penetrammo sempre più profondamente nel cuore di tenebra.”
Il senso del libro è tutto nella fine, nelle ultime pagine del racconto, quando tutto ciò che è stato scritto, anche i dettagli minuti, riemerge e assume un significato e una coerenza sorprendenti.
Leggerò anche Giovinezza e Al limite estremo, i due romanzi che con Cuore di tenebra completano il viaggio di Conrad nelle tre età dell’uomo.

To reach hell is to follow the path of Joseph Conrad. This path we follow, or we leave it—no other choice. The horizon of darkness weaves along the water toward the source of the Congo River. "Watching a ship off the coast is like thinking about a riddle." Here is the invitation to this voyage. Going up a river is going back in time, the time of the first man in each of us. The pulsations of the river banks revive the primary impulses of men. Torpor, savagery, "tiresome pilgrimage among the beginnings of a nightmare." Go deeper; enter the heart of darkness. Is hell a space where we surrender ourselves to deliver the one who lives in us? Can darkness infect the hearts of those who pass through it? Or do we carry this germ forever and ever in us?
We live it or destroy it; there is no other choice.

It was a breathtaking read. There are few books which make such a powerful impression as 'Heart of darkness' does. Written more than a century ago, the book and its undying theme hold just as much significance even today. Intense and compelling, it looks into the darkest recesses of human nature. Conrad takes the reader through a horrific tale in a very gripping voice.

I couldn't say enough about Conrad's mastery of prose. Not a single word is out of place. Among several things, I liked Marlow expressing his difficulty in sharing his experiences with his listeners and his comments on insignificance of some of the dialogue exchanged aloud between him and Kurtz. The bond between the two was much deeper. Whatever words he uses to describe them, no one can really understand in full measure what he had been through. In Marlow's words:

". . . No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one’s existence--that which makes its truth, its meaning--its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream--alone. . . ."

This was the first time I read this book which doesn't seem enough to fathom its profound meaning and all the symbolism. It deserves multiple reads.

The Heart of Darkness is a slim novel that belies the immense profundity it reveals about human nature. I re-read it after many years and understood again why it left me sober, tearful and broken when the last page was turned. Marlow, the seaman narrator, told the story of his journey into the heart of the African interior and his encounter with the natives and most notably, Kurtz, the ivory agent, a much revered white man. To me, the journey into the heart of darkness is the unraveling of what is inscrutably at the core of human nature.



One of the most dominant themes is the human need to dream. Conrad said it well, “We live, as we dream – alone.” A dream has an energizing quality that propels the way forward. It has an all-consuming life of its own. Yet for better or worse, it is an illusion that keeps a man alive. Marlow, newly appointed as skipper of a steamboat, was drawn by an alluring dream – to follow the river like “a silly bird” to the “lure of a snake”, to a destination that was to become for him the heart of darkness. The sinister nature of this dream was suggested by the powerful associations with death early in Marlow’s journey: his arrival at the white sepulchre city, the decaying rot of a murdered captain, greetings by two black hens and two women knitting black wool. Perhaps, the most poignant depiction of the false redemptive power of a dream was in Kurtz’s beloved, “My Intended”. She saw in Kurtz the embodiment of inspiration and goodness, the sum total of all her happiness. Her quest to Marlow for Kurtz’s last words was heartbreaking. Would the truth have saved her?



Perhaps, another theme is deception. Conrad successfully built suspense surrounding Kurtz, the gifted ivory trader. Kurtz was portrayed as larger than life and invested with demi-god status. He was the Voice to be heeded. Yet, Kurtz’s gift of expression was described as "the pulsating stream of light, or the deceitful flow from the heart of an impenetrable darkness." Kurtz was in fact a ruthless ivory vampire who plundered the natives. Interestingly too, Marlow’s first glimpse of Kurtz was incongruently, a fragile wisp of a dying man. Conrad let it be known Kurtz was “hollow at the core”. Kurtz’s evil was symbolized by the human heads drying on staves outside his windows. Yet, the seduction of Kurtz’s power was so strong that the natives were grossly deluded even when they were victims of his rapacious savagery.



Lastly, there is the unmistakable theme of death. The map that guided Marlow into the interior revealed a yellow patch that was described as “dead in the centre”. The ictus of the heart of darkness is death. Life is but a riddle. No pathos is more eloquent than in Kurtz's final words, "The horror! The horror!"



Conrad’s prose may not be immediately accessible but it is finely wrought. There is much one can relish in the palpable beauty of the African jungle rendered in hushed, almost hallowed tones. There is also subtle humor that lifts the looming shades of darkness that close in gradually as the story unfolds. Read this novella. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Acknowledgements
Chronology
Introduction to 'Heart of Darkness'
Introduction to 'The Congo Diary'
Further Reading
A Note on the Texts
Map of the River Congo

--Heart of Darkness
--The Congo Diary

Appendix: Author's Note (1917)
Notes
Glossary of Nautical Terms

n  The reaches opened before us and closed behind, as if the forest had stepped leisurely across the water to bar the way for our return. We penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness. It was very quiet there.n

Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is one of those books that everyone has been told to read. Whether by a teacher, a relative or even a friend, chances are you’ve had this book shoved down your throat in one way or another.

I started reading it expecting a classic that would land somewhere in the range between tediously boring and somewhat enjoyable. I ended up with the discovery of a gorgeous masterpiece and one of the best books I've read in a long, long time.

Conrad’s methods of storytelling are rather unique in many ways. This is hardly the most suspenseful nor the most complex book out there. It is merely a monologue by the protagonist Marlow where he describes the events of his journeys up the streams of the Congo to find the mysterious Mr. Kurtz, a man whose shadow is steeped in legend, but who leaves innumerable horrors in his wake.

What is by far the most enjoyable aspect of Heart of Darkness is the writing. Judging from the example of this one book, I would have no hesitation in considering Joseph Conrad one of the most talented writers of all time. In fact, the stunning eloquence filling the pages quite possibly made this classic the most beautifully written book I have read in my life.

Take as an example this description of the Thames from the very beginning of the book:

The old river in its broad reach rested unruffled at the decline of day, after ages of good service done to the race that peopled its banks, spread out in the tranquil dignity of a waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth. We looked at the venerable stream not in the vivid flush of a short day that comes and departs for ever, but in the august light of abiding memories.

This is one of those classics that I can very happily confirm holds that title for a reason. The combination of the beautiful and the horrible makes Heart of Darkness a true masterpiece of literature.

Prin 2003, am căzut peste o afirmație a lui Borges dintr-un prolog adunat în Biblioteca personală: „Inima întunericului este, poate, cea mai intensă povestire născocită de închipuirea omenească”. Afirmația m-a făcut curios.

Nu auzisem de această povestire. Mi-am procurat o traducere și am citit-o aproape imediat. Povestirea mi-a adus aminte de toate coborîrile la iad din istoria literaturii, îndeosebi de aceea din Eneida. Căpitanul Charles Marlow povestește unor prieteni drumul pe care l-a făcut pe rîul Congo, printr-un ținut pustiit și amenințător, pentru a-l întîlni pe un anume domn Kurtz (privit cu venerație și spaimă de călători), șeful unei „stații” de exploatare a fildeșului. Întîlnește un om bolnav („un diavol veștejit”), trecut dincolo de pragul oricărei nebunii, și asistă la moartea lui. Marlowe se ferește să judece, dar nu e un secret că tot ceea ce a văzut i se pare atroce și abject.

Întunericul la care se referă Conrad este, firește, întunericul sufletului uman.

Aș minți dacă aș spune că această povestire m-a entuziasmat. Nici în 2003, nici acum. Dar nu pot ignora eleganța și precizia stilului prozatorului polonez (pe adevăratul lui nume Jozef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski):

„Într-o seară, intrînd în cabină cu o lumînare, am tresărit cînd l-am auzit pe [Kurtz] spunînd, cu glas oarecum scăzut, 'Zac aici în întuneric și aștept moartea...' [Kurtz] a strigat în șoaptă către o imagine, către o viziune - a strigat de două ori, o rostire ce nu era mai mult decît un suflu: 'Oroare! Oroare! Am stins lumînarea și am ieșit din cabină... One evening coming in with a candle I was startled to hear him say a little tremulously, ‘I am lying here in the dark waiting for death.’... He [Kurtz] cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision—he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath: ‘The horror! The horror!’ I blew the candle out and left the cabin”.

P. S. N-aș vrea să trec peste faptul că scriitorul Chinua Achebe a denunțat povestirea lui Conrad ca rasistă și a stîrnit o polemică înverșunată. Opinia cea mai cumpănită mi s-a părut, totuși, aceea a lui David Lodge:

„E o greșeală să citești texte dintr-o epocă trecută cu ochelarii ideologici ai prezentului...; după standardele vremii sale, abordarea colonialismului european de către Conrad este una progresistă” (Norocul scriitorului. Memorii (1976 - 1991), traducere de Radu Pavel Gheo, Polirom, 2021, p.446).

Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad tells the story of Marlow, a seaman and drifter who ends up in The Congo in the late 19th century, on a quest to find legendary ivory trader Kurtz. A period described as “The scramble for Africa”. Kurtz operates at a virtually inaccessible ivory station half-way up the River Congo. Marlow hears numerous stories about a man called Kurtz. For example, his ability to acquire massive amounts of ivory is legendary, as is his facility to work seamlessly with the local tribes. No mean feat at all – considering the subjugation, violence and atrocities committed against the native people by the Imperialists.

Marlow is tasked with fixing a knackered steamboat at one of the stations lower in the river. This takes some time, so we experience the languid existence of these pioneers and their accompanying and captive savages. The author takes the time to describe the oppressive, sweltering, almost pointless conditions of these outposts. He also creates high-level uneasiness in the reader, violence is either florid or simmering just under the surface. The native people, of course, are treated appallingly – sure some are engaged in work such as keeping the steamboat boiler going, but most are subjugated to abject slavery. Black corpses litter the landscape.

The African workers were dying slowly – it was very clear. They were not enemies, they were not criminals, they were nothing earthly now – nothing but black shadows of disease and starvation, lying confusedly in the greenish gloom. Brought from the recesses of the coast in all legality of time contracts, lost in uncongenial surroundings, fed on unfamiliar food, they sickened, became inefficient, and were then allowed to crawl away and rest…..

The journey up-river is confronting. Tropical jungle seems to be creeping towards, and over the riverbanks, wanting to swallow up the steamboat piloted by Marlow, and inhabited by white pilgrims and subject natives – including cannibals . He observes (he thinks), hundreds of sets of eyes within the dark green, watching his every move, also, dark shadows moving amongst the shadows. It’s very atmospheric. It’s worth dwelling on this writing, re-reading, putting the book down and thinking, imagining.

The eventual meeting with Kurtz is not what I expected at all. How about I just refer you to the painting by Phil Hale below? This book has given me reason to checkout more works by this ‘moody’ (his paintings, not him – well he might be moody, who knows!) artist. His work is stunning. Hale encapsulates this literary gem – in all its disturbing, atrociousness.



Conrad hoped this story might have a continuing “vibration”. The introduction to this novella also says ”Conrad would have been astonished by these contemporary reverberations”. Indeed, Mr Conrad, your work has given this reader a thorough shake-up all the way forward to 2022 – and reminded me why most, if not all of today’s so-called first world countries are wealthy. For that I thank you.

Exterminate all the brutes

5-Stars

Overrated. Over-hated. Over-analyzed. Over-referenced.

There is so much hype about this book and it is so reviewed, quoted and revered; so much part of the literary canon; that a more measured and considered read may not seem possible. It has helped to read some background material first; some from the period and relating to imperialism in Africa and also Achebe’s pertinent and succinct critique.
This is quite a brief novella without a great deal of substance. It starts with the trope of a group of men telling tales; almost like a Victorian ghost story. Marlow is the storyteller and he also features in a number of other works by Conrad. As Conrad said to his publisher; “It is a story of the Congo. There is no love interest in it and no woman—only incidentally”. Pretty much the story is as follows; man seeks job involving travel, gets job piloting steamer in the Congo. Man travels to Congo. Man finds climate and circumstances quite testing and discovers Europeans die quite easily and regularly. Man describes jungle and its peoples in pretty negative terms. Man hears stories about Kurtz who runs the station furthest away. Man pilots boat up the Congo and describes strange and foreign land; even gets to shoot assorted natives. Man arrives at Kurtz’s station and hears account of him from another European. Man meets Kurtz and Kurtz promptly dies. Author invents snappy and profound last words which will ensure the damn thing is read forever. Man goes home and lies to Kurtz’s Intended. That’s it. There is some descriptive prose. There you have it; a parable of Imperialism (and men).
Tempted as I am to leave it at that; there are some points to make; the start of the novel;
“The sun set; the dusk fell on the stream, and lights began to appear along the shore. The Chapman lighthouse, a three-legged thing erect on a mud-flat, shone strongly. Lights of ships moved in the fairway—a great stir of lights going up and going down. And farther west on the upper reaches the place of the monstrous town was still marked ominously on the sky, a brooding gloom in sunshine, a lurid glare under the stars.

"And this also," said Marlow suddenly, "has been one of the dark places of the earth."”

Note the use of the word has rather than is. There is a strong sense throughout that the Europeans are civilised by dint of time and progression and Africa is not for the same reasons. It is also argued that Conrad is criticising imperialism. If only it were so. He was aware of the awful conditions in the Congo as a result of the area being run as a personal fiefdom by the Belgian King. Conrad was a firm supporter of all things British and reading around HoD it is clear that Conrad felt Imperialism was ok as long as it was British because the British were humane exploiters! After all Marlow’s job was procured by his aunt and sealed over a cup of tea!
Then there is the question of racism. Achebe describes Conrad as a “bloody racist” and who am I to argue. It is not just or even primarily the language. The “natives” are clearly seen as other and lesser. The descriptions of the man who has learnt how to do a particular task on the steamer; the helmsman: indicate that Marlow pretty much saw him as not only as an extension of the boat, but as someone who had learnt a task by rote and not an independent and autonomous human being. If you treat other human beings as less or inferior, then what happens to them, their fate, becomes equally insignificant. The backdrop is the scramble for territory and resources in Africa. The residents of Africa are secondary to this process and it did not occur that the lands and resources might be theirs and not to be plundered to fuel western capitalism.
There’s plenty more to say, but that’s enough for now.

I read this back in high school and I thought I had it already on my list of books I have read. I received a recommendation to read it that made me realize it was not on my list.

I don't remember a lot about it other than it was short, but seemed to drag on forever. It is never a good sign for a short book when it feels like a thousand page tome. It does have a lot of cultural references that have lasted through time and led to many retellings (most notably Apocalypse Now). Perhaps it is worth a re-read as an adult to see if it still doesn't sit well with me?

“It was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.”



I know some readers find Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness a bit heavy-handed (and maybe it is). Certainly, there is very little questioning of the empire building/resource plundering that is going on, but I still find the storytelling really good. The nightmare Conrad presents in the form of a journey up the river to the heart of darkness is also compelling, and works on many levels.

“We live in the flicker -- may it last as long as the old earth keeps rolling! But darkness was here yesterday.”

“The horror! The horror!”