I have the same complaint of inconsistency as last time. The eccentric (who isn’t, in this book, really?) trader tells us yet more about Kurtz – and we’ve yet to meet him. Everyone else in the novel could (or would) only speak in bizarre puzzling language about him, trying to hide something, or simply add to the suspense that this story unfortunately lacks. Yet, this trader is full of all kinds of weird stories. It feels a little unbalanced, as if I could skip to part III of the novel without really missing much of anything, at least as far as the plot goes (ambiance may be another story, but it’s one I could go without). I can’t tell if all the trader’s stories of Kurtz’ “illness” are just a euphemism for insanity (which is clearly an aspect of Kurtz’ life), or that Kurtz is genuinely, physically sick. The latter seems to make more sense, given that the trader complains of a lack of supplies (and general lack of support from the company). Then again, they could be different sides of the same coin, I imagine as he gets sicker and sicker his mental state must be affected somehow. But this story provides a pretty bizarre “somehow.”
Heart of Darkness (pp. 78-90)
I don’t quite get Marlow’s obsession with Kurtz. It almost reminds me of Romeo of Romeo and Juliet — he wasn’t really in love with Juliet, more in love with the very idea of being in love. Kurtz seems to be the center of Marlow’s attention just because he’s there. The interjection of one of Marlow’s listeners is interesting, if only for its sheer strangeness. Instead of disbelieving his story on the grounds that it involves repeated bizarre things happening, they disbelieve because he threw away a new pair of shoes, covered in blood. Unless I’m misreading this (which seems more and more likely with each section), that doesn’t seem very odd at all. I have to admit, the transition to talking about Kurtz’ fiancee kind of took me by surprise. It’s the first part of the book that really acknowledges in the narrative itself that it’s a story being told by a person, and not necessarily chronologically. It seems almost contradictory though, as Marlow has been kind of dropping extremely mild hints about Kurtz’ nature, before suddenly adding this huge part of his personality. It seems like we learn more about Kurtz in this short section than the whole rest of the book.
Heart of Darkness (pp. 66-78)
Suddenly, I find myself wishing that I’d never asked for more action. Even the attack, comparatively fast-paced as it was (read as: sort of kind of normally paced), was rendered somewhat uninteresting by Conrad’s plodding prose. Also, finishing the battle with an utterly terrifying blast or two from a whistle was more than a little anticlimactic. Odd that such a harmless little doohickey is infinitely more effective against the natives than actual weaponry (which seemed to just obscure their view, without any actual deterrent effect on that whole enemy thing). I can’t figure out if the final scene of Marlow and the agent standing over the dying navigator is proof of the African’s humanity or inhumanity. Marlow seems to be torn, he and the agent are silent as they watch him die, and Marlow expresses seeing the life drain from his eyes. Still, his mind is mostly preoccupied by his bloody shoes and socks, which he’s in a hurry to change. How much could the African’s life really have meant to him when that’s his priority?
Heart of Darkness (pp. 55-66)
The conversation that Marlow overhears, and that dominates this section of the novel, is extremely hard to follow. Even after discussing it in class and reading the summary of the dialogue that SparkNotes has, it doesn’t really completely make sense. From what I can gather, the main point of the whole thing seems to be to namedrop Kurtz a few more times without really telling the readers or Marlow much about him. Apparently, he likes the jungle. But at the same time, the two conversing characters say that he wants to turn every post into a civilized area. So really, who knows. The other event of this section, where Marlow finds wood and a book at an abandoned encampment is a little more interesting. It might be the first part of the book that could so far qualify as “intriguing.” It’s mysterious, especially the cipher that Marlow sees in the margins. Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem like the kind of detail that will get resolved as the novel continues.
Heart of Darkness (pp. 44-55)
I’m finding these journal entries progressively harder to write, and I think I have to lay the blame for this predicament at Conrad’s feet. The style in which Heart of Darkness is written insists on a slowly building narrative. It seems that little happens in the short stretches we read (which are not, in the context of the brief 108 page novel, short at all) other than a creeping, crawling journey towards the creeping, crawling journey that’s supposedly the topic of the book. The only thing I’ve found to really comment on in this section is the slight addition to the knowledge of Kurtz that Marlow holds. And it is pretty slight. Conrad spends dense pages on it, but it doesn’t seem to tell us, or Marlow anything at all. So, Kurtz is smart. And can paint, sort of. But so what? It’s difficult to see where this is leading, and I know where the trajectory of Marlow’s tale ends. Let’s just skip to the natives worshiping already. Then again, it seems like the building up of the story is kind of the point. It’s too bad it’s not a more interesting point, is all.
Heart of Darkness (pp. 38-44)
The wreck of Marlow’s supposed craft is definitely an auspicious beginning to his Congolese journey. I’m going to take a wild guess that things aren’t going to improve. Death seems like it’s going to become a pretty nonchalant constant – the corpses surrounding Marlow’s every move have yet to elicit the barest form of human recognition in the narrator’s tone. Marlow is clearly pretty desensitized. Nonetheless, without making it explicit, Conrad seems to be setting him up as the “good guy,” and not just by having him be the protagonist. There’s an indefinable, but clearly present difference between Marlow and the other people affiliated with the company he’s working for. The others seem to have no regard whatsoever for the Africans surrounding them, but, then again, neither does Marlow. It’s difficult to quantify this separation, but I do believe it’s there. Hopefully Marlow can salvage some of his humanity to go along with it.
Heart of Darkness (pp. 32-38)
I’m glad the story is more… well… story-like, instead of feeling as preliminary as it did in the sections before this one. Africa is about as brutal as should be expected, especially coming from the knowledge that this book is an indictment of European colonialism. Conrad’s descriptions are fascinating, but one seems to stick out particularly in my mind – on page 34, where he says, “…a vast artificial hole… the purpose of which I found impossible to divine. … It might have been connected with the philanthropic desire of giving the criminals something to do.” He hits the nail on the head with that little sentence. I also think Conrad shows off his authorial skills with his description of the dead and dying Africans outside the office. “They were not enemies, they were not criminals, they were nothing earthly now…” (p. 35) As they die, they lose the qualities that made them so easy to exploit. I think this probably has to do with the idea of dying as an integral part of being human, and alive. It’s tough to deny someone’s worth as they lie dying. The introduction of Kurtz is also noteworthy – if only because the description given by the official is not at all like the description to come. People all around have very skewed perspectives, no matter where they stand in the novel.
Heart of Darkness (pp. 24-32)
I’m feeling kind of conflicted about this book. I feel like the story hasn’t started, despite the fact that it seems to have decidedly have begun. It may really just be too early on to tell this, or be able to fairly judge it, but I have a creepy feeling that it’s the language Conrad uses. Even though, as I noted in my last entry, I feel like it’s not keeping me from being absorbed in the story, I do feel like it’s kind of keeping me at bay a little bit. All I really feel is anticipation so far. Still, Conrad has begun to lay out an interesting framework for the story to come. Marlow’s visit to the doctor seemed pretty strange; for the first section, I thought he had just wandered into a random someone’s house, and the knitting ladies just ignored him. That was a little disorienting. Still, it seems the low opinion of Africa is pretty prevalent throughout all of the characters that Conrad’s presented so far – the doctor’s comments were particularly enlightened. Another thing that struck me as bizarre (although in this case I’m pretty sure that was Conrad’s intention) was the complete indifference Marlow and everyone else seems to show to the ship that’s shelling the village. They don’t pause to think about those being killed in the slightest. I get the feeling that death is going to be a pretty common occurrence throughout the plot.
Heart of Darkness (pp. 15-24)
I’m kind of amazed at how much I’ve been able to immerse myself in Heart of Darkness so far. Usually books that fall into the “classics” denomination aren’t quite accessible to me, wordiness in particular makes it very tough for me to force my way through a novel. However, even though Conrad is definitely wordy, I’m not having that usual problem. It’s definitely a nice change. It’s interesting how his writing style mirrors the supposed environment that the characters find themselves in – thick, humid, and swampy. I would say my only real objection so far is the endnotes – a little bit of a pain, since I feel obligated by some kind of duty that probably doesn’t really exist to read all of them. It’s kind of strange really that I feel so interested in the story, as so very little has happened yet. Conrad’s very skilled at building anticipation without really saying anything. Actually, I’m not sure how much of that is just in my head, as I’ve been curious about the contents of this book ever since I saw Apocalypse Now, which is probably just a little to stereotypical to be mildly funny. Still, I’m glad to have the motivation.
Babel
The Oscars got me thinking about the nature of good films. The Departed beat out Babel for Best Picture (among other awards), and I think that if I were a voting member of the Academy I’d have voted in the same way (although if it was on the ballot, The Science of Sleep certainly would have topped it). Yet, I don’t think that The Departed is nearly as good (i.e. well-crafted, directed, shot, etc.) as Babel. Yet, I enjoyed watched The Departed infinitely more than Babel. But wasn’t this the director’s goal? I certainly think that he intended the movie to be difficult (at times, brutal) to watch. The story is viscerally upsetting; all four angles its approached from offer a tale of pain and misunderstanding. The entire movie seems to be organized around the idea of bad things happening to people for stupid, or, at least, excessively preventable reasons. This doesn’t really make for a movie one is eager to see. Yet, I think as a work of art, it’s far superior to the vast, vast majority of movies, including all four other nominees for best picture. I think the category needs more definition. I only had one real problem with Babel (other than the frustration of watching rounded characters one empathizes with suffer for no good reason). The premise of people in pain without genuine cause is very realistic, as Dan’s State of the World class is teaching us. It seems the overwhelming majority of wars and genocides are started for reasons having nothing resembling a grain of truth or sense at the center. Yet, I felt consistently that some of the situations presented rang false. A good example of this is the nanny character taking the children under her care into Mexico. First, how did they get out of the U.S.? There’s a border crossing both ways, and without a letter of permission (that was so disastrously required later in the film) how did she get over the border? I don’t think the U.S. is real big on letting its itty-bitty citizens run away with an older, un-related woman. Still, overall, a fantastic film, if not enjoyable in any sense. To see this quality of film making is maddeningly rare.
Zev's Reading Journal 