The text for Lord Jim can be found at Project Gutenberg. A free audio version can be downloaded from the LibriVox site. This post is the best spot for any comments on the book.
Below are the links for resources and posts for the book:
Online resources for Joseph Conrad
Lord Jim discussion: Chapters 1 - 13
Lord Jim discussion: Chapters 14 - 24
Lord Jim discussion: Chapters 25 - 45
Lord Jim (1965 movie)
Showing posts with label Joseph Conrad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joseph Conrad. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Lord Jim (1965 movie)
The 1965 movie version of Lord Jim, directed by Richard Brooks and starring Peter O’Toole as Jim is a visually beautiful film to watch. Other notables in the cast include James Mason as Gentleman Brown, Eli Wallach as an oppressive general, Dahlia Lavi as the Patusan girl (Jim calls her Jewel in the book) and Curd Jurgens as Cornelius. The screen version is markedly different in almost every detail, hanging on to the most general of outlines from the book.
The differences are too numerous to list, but I’ll point out a few of the changes or elisions. The physical descriptions of the German skipper of the Patna and of Doramin were so striking that it was disappointing to see actors not filling out their role (so to speak). Patusan is a much different place than Conrad described with a complete change in situations (the film version showing peasants overcoming an dictatorial general probably resonated more within the ‘60s). Stein is much more involved with Patusan and Jim. The reason for Gentleman Brown’s visit to Patusan is invented, as well as obtaining a radically different vengeance. Doramin gives Jim a chance to escape, while Jewel is supportive of Jim staying for his execution. I know it is unfair to compare, but at times I felt like I was watching Lawrence of Arabia set in the south Pacific.
So what changes worked well? Having the deserting crew of the Patna limp into port, only to see the ship safely there ahead of them was a nice touch. Brierly being much more animated in the courtroom helped explain his subsequent suicide. While the general was invented, his understanding of human nature was similar to Gentleman Brown’s, and he applied it just as ruthlessly. And the general’s disgust with Cornelius also matched Brown’s revulsion of the traitor.
Jim’s guilt at his verdict is portrayed well by O’Toole and heightened by flashbacks to the Patna. While the physical torture when captured in Patusan is a fabrication, it does heighten and contrast with his mental anguish. Watching Brown touch on Jim’s weaknesses was like watching a surgeon operate, manipulating him effectively. However, since Stein does not know of Jim’s past when assigning him to Patusan, we don’t get his view of romanticism (submitting to your destructive elements, swimming in them to stay afloat). The close of Marlow’s narrative is a good place to judge the success of the movie:
"And that's the end. He passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart, forgotten, unforgiven, and excessively romantic. Not in the wildest days of his boyish visions could he have seen the alluring shape of such an extraordinary success! For it may very well be that in the short moment of his last proud and unflinching glance, he had beheld the face of that opportunity which, like an Eastern bride, had come veiled to his side.
"But we can see him, an obscure conqueror of fame, tearing himself out of the arms of a jealous love at the sign, at the call of his exalted egoism. He goes away from a living woman to celebrate his pitiless wedding with a shadowy ideal of conduct. Is he satisfied—quite, now, I wonder? We ought to know. He is one of us—and have I not stood up once, like an evoked ghost, to answer for his eternal constancy? Was I so very wrong after all? Now he is no more, there are days when the reality of his existence
comes to me with an immense, with an overwhelming force; and yet upon my honour there are moments, too, when he passes from my eyes like a disembodied spirit astray amongst the passions of his earth, ready to surrender himself faithfully to the claim of his own world of shades.”
The movie does a fair job of capturing Jim’s egoism and his “romantic novel” successes. Because of the nature of cinema, we don’t have to worry about the reality of Jim’s existence…we see him for ourselves on the screen. Nor do we need Marlow’s loquacious impressions since experience everything for ourselves. I never quite got the feeling that Jim was satisfied (almost) while in Patusan, but in most other aspects of his character and responsibilities he generally follows the book. There was one moment in the movie where I felt exactly the same as did while reading the book—I wanted it to end with Jim’s success in Patusan, where it would be a “happily ever after” fairy tale. Alas, it was not to be in either case.
The invention of Marlow gave voice to stories that touched on life’s lessons and dangers. The movie version gets us almost to the same place, but in quite a different way.
The Shadow-Line
The text for The Shadow-Line can be found at Project Gutenberg.
Joseph Conrad’s The Shadow-Line is a reminiscence of the narrator obtaining his first command in addition to his first voyage as captain. The young sailor meets all kinds of challenges and crises, overcoming them mostly with help he doesn’t recognize, and advances over the shadowy line from youth to adulthood. There are many lines and echoes from Hamlet (madness, delay) and The Tempest (dreaming, watching youth grow and mature) as well as the tone and imagery from Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but the manner of presenting it and the underlying themes are all Conrad. The narration is much less impressionistic than the previous Conrad works I’ve covered.
Conrad does a very good job of depicting the frustration and lack of responsibility of the young sailor. He quits his job as third mate on a steamship but is unable to say why or what he will do. While waiting at a sailors’ house for a passage home to England, he receives a summons to the Harbor Master. This extended section shows the young sailor’s immaturity, misinterpreting actions as slights to his person as well as ignoring the unfolding intrigue around him to undermine his commission. Even after accepting his commission (and realizing his calling is the sea), the young sailor is ill prepared to take command. He rushes the ship to sea before it or its sailors are ready and makes many misinterpretations while on the ship. The first voyage is beset by crises: a becalmed sea, the feverish crew, his unstable first mate, and the previous (treacherous) captain.
The outlook of the young sailor mirrors that of youth. As third mate, he felt he was wasting his time: “The past eighteen months [on the steamship], so full of new and varied experience, appeared a dreary, prosaic waste of days. I felt—how shall I express it?—that there was no truth to be got out of them.” He can’t see the groundwork being laid for the ability to captain a ship. He is totally oblivious to the machinations of the Chief Steward to obtain the ship’s command for a deadbeat tenant, even as Captain Giles tries to lead him to awareness (stressing that little should escape the attention of a captain). The young sailor found the conversation with Giles inane, “absurd and dreary.” “There was nothing original, nothing new, startling, informing, to expect from the world; no opportunities to find out something about oneself, no wisdom to acquire, no fun to enjoy. Everything was stupid and overrated, even as Captain Giles was.” Once he is all but forced by Giles to go get his command, the young sailor views the unfolding of events as “that day of miracles” even though the true miracles were getting him to realize what was happening and to take action.
Only after possessing the command does he realize this is what he was meant to do: “I discovered how much of a seaman I was, in heart, in mind, and, as it were, physically.” But his impatience shows through once again: “But I won’t feel really at peace till I have that ship of mine out in the Indian Ocean.” To this point, the young man has been contemptuous to his elders: Kent (his previous captain), Giles, and Ellis (the Harbor Master). He is in such a hurry to get to sea that he ironically decides to rely on the kindness of the harbor doctor instead of completing his tasks to insure the ship’s medicine cabinet is adequately stocked. And we are shown that age is not always an indicator of wisdom or maturity with a portrait of the previous ship’s captain. In addition, the previous captain’s description of wanting to “cut adrift from everything” shows what the young sailor’s life might have led to with his aimless drifting. The characters of the deadbeat Hamilton and the drunken tenant at the sailors’ house provides a clear example of where drifting could have led him. The young sailor even begins to piece together how maturity is obtained: “People have a great opinion of the advantages of experience. But in this connection experience means always something disagreeable as opposed to the charm and innocence of illusions.” As most children impatiently and wistfully envision adulthood, the young sailor views the sea as “pure, safe, and friendly,” not valuing the necessary preparation or the possible calamities that can ensue.
Once in the Gulf of Siam, the new captain wasn’t sure what to expect other than “that special intensity of existence which is the quintessence of youthful aspirations.” Instead, he “discovered that life could hold terrible moments.” His guilt at being ill prepared drives him to expiate his mistakes and shoulder the responsibly tp bring the crew home safely. Many of the themes I’ve mentioned in Heart of Darkness and Lord Jim are present in this Conrad work: isolation vs. the collective (hero vs. antihero), the interplay between responsibility and fate, interactions of youth and father figures, surface vs. reality, civilization and duty vs. what their absence, and the presence of a double or partner to the main character.
As to the doppelganger theme, the young sailor’s double or partner is Ransome, the ship’s steward and cook. Ransome is a competent sailor but must avoid physical strain due to a weak heart. Yet it is Ransome’s constant presence and physical courage that buoys the captain, helping him through his darker moments. It also highlights how the crew members band together, despite illness and limitations, to stay true to the captain and the ship. The Shadow-Line highlights masculinity, in the sense of what it means to be a mature man. The weight of responsibility can seem overbearing, stressing the limitations of being human. As Giles says in his last visit with the young sailor, “A man has got to learn everything—and that's what so many of them youngsters don't understand.”
The relationship of Captain Giles to the young sailor resonated with me, resembling the role of fatherhood. The patience and assistance Giles demonstrated was beyond the call of duty for him, an almost wasted generosity toward the youth. Regardless of how much preparation is provided, a young man still has to stand on his on, make his own mistakes in moving toward that shadowy line of maturity.
Joseph Conrad’s The Shadow-Line is a reminiscence of the narrator obtaining his first command in addition to his first voyage as captain. The young sailor meets all kinds of challenges and crises, overcoming them mostly with help he doesn’t recognize, and advances over the shadowy line from youth to adulthood. There are many lines and echoes from Hamlet (madness, delay) and The Tempest (dreaming, watching youth grow and mature) as well as the tone and imagery from Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but the manner of presenting it and the underlying themes are all Conrad. The narration is much less impressionistic than the previous Conrad works I’ve covered.
Conrad does a very good job of depicting the frustration and lack of responsibility of the young sailor. He quits his job as third mate on a steamship but is unable to say why or what he will do. While waiting at a sailors’ house for a passage home to England, he receives a summons to the Harbor Master. This extended section shows the young sailor’s immaturity, misinterpreting actions as slights to his person as well as ignoring the unfolding intrigue around him to undermine his commission. Even after accepting his commission (and realizing his calling is the sea), the young sailor is ill prepared to take command. He rushes the ship to sea before it or its sailors are ready and makes many misinterpretations while on the ship. The first voyage is beset by crises: a becalmed sea, the feverish crew, his unstable first mate, and the previous (treacherous) captain.
The outlook of the young sailor mirrors that of youth. As third mate, he felt he was wasting his time: “The past eighteen months [on the steamship], so full of new and varied experience, appeared a dreary, prosaic waste of days. I felt—how shall I express it?—that there was no truth to be got out of them.” He can’t see the groundwork being laid for the ability to captain a ship. He is totally oblivious to the machinations of the Chief Steward to obtain the ship’s command for a deadbeat tenant, even as Captain Giles tries to lead him to awareness (stressing that little should escape the attention of a captain). The young sailor found the conversation with Giles inane, “absurd and dreary.” “There was nothing original, nothing new, startling, informing, to expect from the world; no opportunities to find out something about oneself, no wisdom to acquire, no fun to enjoy. Everything was stupid and overrated, even as Captain Giles was.” Once he is all but forced by Giles to go get his command, the young sailor views the unfolding of events as “that day of miracles” even though the true miracles were getting him to realize what was happening and to take action.
Only after possessing the command does he realize this is what he was meant to do: “I discovered how much of a seaman I was, in heart, in mind, and, as it were, physically.” But his impatience shows through once again: “But I won’t feel really at peace till I have that ship of mine out in the Indian Ocean.” To this point, the young man has been contemptuous to his elders: Kent (his previous captain), Giles, and Ellis (the Harbor Master). He is in such a hurry to get to sea that he ironically decides to rely on the kindness of the harbor doctor instead of completing his tasks to insure the ship’s medicine cabinet is adequately stocked. And we are shown that age is not always an indicator of wisdom or maturity with a portrait of the previous ship’s captain. In addition, the previous captain’s description of wanting to “cut adrift from everything” shows what the young sailor’s life might have led to with his aimless drifting. The characters of the deadbeat Hamilton and the drunken tenant at the sailors’ house provides a clear example of where drifting could have led him. The young sailor even begins to piece together how maturity is obtained: “People have a great opinion of the advantages of experience. But in this connection experience means always something disagreeable as opposed to the charm and innocence of illusions.” As most children impatiently and wistfully envision adulthood, the young sailor views the sea as “pure, safe, and friendly,” not valuing the necessary preparation or the possible calamities that can ensue.
Once in the Gulf of Siam, the new captain wasn’t sure what to expect other than “that special intensity of existence which is the quintessence of youthful aspirations.” Instead, he “discovered that life could hold terrible moments.” His guilt at being ill prepared drives him to expiate his mistakes and shoulder the responsibly tp bring the crew home safely. Many of the themes I’ve mentioned in Heart of Darkness and Lord Jim are present in this Conrad work: isolation vs. the collective (hero vs. antihero), the interplay between responsibility and fate, interactions of youth and father figures, surface vs. reality, civilization and duty vs. what their absence, and the presence of a double or partner to the main character.
As to the doppelganger theme, the young sailor’s double or partner is Ransome, the ship’s steward and cook. Ransome is a competent sailor but must avoid physical strain due to a weak heart. Yet it is Ransome’s constant presence and physical courage that buoys the captain, helping him through his darker moments. It also highlights how the crew members band together, despite illness and limitations, to stay true to the captain and the ship. The Shadow-Line highlights masculinity, in the sense of what it means to be a mature man. The weight of responsibility can seem overbearing, stressing the limitations of being human. As Giles says in his last visit with the young sailor, “A man has got to learn everything—and that's what so many of them youngsters don't understand.”
The relationship of Captain Giles to the young sailor resonated with me, resembling the role of fatherhood. The patience and assistance Giles demonstrated was beyond the call of duty for him, an almost wasted generosity toward the youth. Regardless of how much preparation is provided, a young man still has to stand on his on, make his own mistakes in moving toward that shadowy line of maturity.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Lord Jim discussion: Chapters 25 – 45
This section covers the Patusan episode of Jim’s life. Reaching Patusan safely, Jim is imprisoned by one of the rival leaders. He leaps twice to safety and renown (as compared to his one leap to dishonor from the Patna), once over the blockade and once over the narrow river between settlements. Jim devises and carries out a plan to defeat Sherif Ali, a warlord recently established above Patusan. With victory, Jim is able to oversee an uneasy truce between Doramin and Rajah Allang while the natives put their trust in his leadership. As you are introduced to Cornelius and Gentleman Brown, you realize Jim is fated to an unhappy ending.
Jim is tormented by guilt, even after two successful years in Patusan. “I have not forgotten why I came here. Not yet!” At some point I wonder how disproportionate the feelings of guilt are to the crime. While the inquiry sentence was light, Jim stood trial and received judgment. But he imposes a sentence on himself that doesn’t allow him to progress until he is completely away from anything Western. Somewhat related is the role of fate—how much control does Jim have and exercise? Quite a bit (for better or worse), even when you look at the people that haphazardly enter his life: Marlow, Brierly, Jewel, and Stein on the good side; Cornelius, Gentleman Brown, and the entire crew of the Patna to the bad. And given how his guilt allowed Gentleman Brown to escape and commit his atrocity, I think it is easy to say that Jim would never transcend his guilt.
Jim isolates himself in Patusan, but ultimately ends up responsible for the villagers much like the skipper of a ship. Everyone on a ship and everyone in the village are part of a community with a role to play, and that includes the leaders. To some extent Jim exceeds the requirements of a leader by pledging his life for the safety of the villagers if Gentleman Brown is allowed to go free. Was he trying to expiate his guilt? Or simply that he put too much faith in Brown who obviously was not a man of his word? Probably more the latter, but since Brown played on Jim’s guilt the former is a factor. Jim clearly felt he owed something to the villagers, but ignores what he might possibly owe to Jewel or Stein. And he clearly fails to realize that by identifying with Brown, he does not understand the levels of evil loose in the world.
As I have mentioned, there are several father figures to Jim. His real father is mentioned several times and is one of the reasons he does not return home after the inquiry. Marlow constantly shepherds the younger man along, taking care of him almost in spite of Jim. Brierly offers to finance Jim’s escape (just like Cornelius offers to save Jim’s life at one point for $80). And Stein clearly sees Jim as an heir to “all this,” just as Stein was once befriended and enriched by an older patron. While the book is full of irony, Jim’s measurement in comparison to these father figures provides plenty. Jim has trouble communicating, while Marlow is loquacious and articulate. Jim’s dereliction of duty on the Patna would have caused many a sailor to do something drastic, yet it is one of his judges that commits suicide.
There are many symbols and motifs in the book as well. The “one of us” motif is constantly echoed, usually in conjunction with meaning a gentleman, or a sailor, or something similar. But it also echoes the biblical origins of the phrase, where a fallen Adam becomes like the other beings and can differentiate between good and evil. It is probably too much to say that Jim fell from a state of innocence, but he did get a very hard lesson in the way of the world with the events on the Patna. Unfortuantely he did not appear to make it to the same level of recognizing evil when he confronted it. Stein introduces some imagery that appears quite a bit in the Patusan episode, that of his collections of beetles and butterflies. Most of the descriptions are straightforward, but in one case Gentleman Brown malevolently invokes the image: “I’ve lived—and so did you, though you talk as if you were one of those people that should have wings so as to go about without touching the dirty earth. Well—it is dirty. I haven’t got any wings.” And with that, Brown puts his finger on the pulse of Jim’s guilt, using his own fears to probe Jim’s. Stein’s romanticism that I quoted in the previous post is how Jim lives in Patusan, “swimming” successfully in the “dangerous element” by not trying to rise out of it. There is one humorous image of Jim’s success (literally in this case of swimming in the dangerous element) upon his second leap for freedom—he lands on a muddy bank on the other side of the small river and almost buries himself alive by trying to climb out.
While there is some additional discussion on colonialism in the last section, it is usually much more open-ended or is presented with a counterpart. Gentleman Brown is probably the exception, with thoughts like “The land already seemed to be his to tear to pieces, squeeze, and throw away.” Yet even then his counterweight is Jim who runs the trading station fairly and equitably. Brown is someone that Jim could never comprehend nor know how to deal with. Jim's servant Tamb’ Itam has none of these problems when disposing of Cornelius. Evil is usually presented as having an advantage over pure innocence or inexperience. And by mistakenly identifying with Brown, Jim signs his death warrant.
At the end of the book, Marlow questions his judgment not just of Jim but of the meaning of (and reality of) Jim's existence:
Marlow can’t answer whether Jim was a romantic reality or illusion, and of course neither can the reader. Despite everything presented, even if Marlow is accurate in his assumptions as to what is beneath the surface, the quote I could hear at the end was Marlow’s reaction to the inquiry (and was echoed in many places in the book): “They wanted facts. Facts! They demanded facts from him, as if facts could explain anything!”
As much as I would love to read much more Conrad right now, I’ll limit myself to The Shadow Line and then move on to Ford Maddox’s Ford The Good Soldier next. I hope to have the 1965 movie version of Lord Jim, with Peter O’Toole as Jim, available later this week and will add a review of it.
Jim is tormented by guilt, even after two successful years in Patusan. “I have not forgotten why I came here. Not yet!” At some point I wonder how disproportionate the feelings of guilt are to the crime. While the inquiry sentence was light, Jim stood trial and received judgment. But he imposes a sentence on himself that doesn’t allow him to progress until he is completely away from anything Western. Somewhat related is the role of fate—how much control does Jim have and exercise? Quite a bit (for better or worse), even when you look at the people that haphazardly enter his life: Marlow, Brierly, Jewel, and Stein on the good side; Cornelius, Gentleman Brown, and the entire crew of the Patna to the bad. And given how his guilt allowed Gentleman Brown to escape and commit his atrocity, I think it is easy to say that Jim would never transcend his guilt.
Jim isolates himself in Patusan, but ultimately ends up responsible for the villagers much like the skipper of a ship. Everyone on a ship and everyone in the village are part of a community with a role to play, and that includes the leaders. To some extent Jim exceeds the requirements of a leader by pledging his life for the safety of the villagers if Gentleman Brown is allowed to go free. Was he trying to expiate his guilt? Or simply that he put too much faith in Brown who obviously was not a man of his word? Probably more the latter, but since Brown played on Jim’s guilt the former is a factor. Jim clearly felt he owed something to the villagers, but ignores what he might possibly owe to Jewel or Stein. And he clearly fails to realize that by identifying with Brown, he does not understand the levels of evil loose in the world.
As I have mentioned, there are several father figures to Jim. His real father is mentioned several times and is one of the reasons he does not return home after the inquiry. Marlow constantly shepherds the younger man along, taking care of him almost in spite of Jim. Brierly offers to finance Jim’s escape (just like Cornelius offers to save Jim’s life at one point for $80). And Stein clearly sees Jim as an heir to “all this,” just as Stein was once befriended and enriched by an older patron. While the book is full of irony, Jim’s measurement in comparison to these father figures provides plenty. Jim has trouble communicating, while Marlow is loquacious and articulate. Jim’s dereliction of duty on the Patna would have caused many a sailor to do something drastic, yet it is one of his judges that commits suicide.
There are many symbols and motifs in the book as well. The “one of us” motif is constantly echoed, usually in conjunction with meaning a gentleman, or a sailor, or something similar. But it also echoes the biblical origins of the phrase, where a fallen Adam becomes like the other beings and can differentiate between good and evil. It is probably too much to say that Jim fell from a state of innocence, but he did get a very hard lesson in the way of the world with the events on the Patna. Unfortuantely he did not appear to make it to the same level of recognizing evil when he confronted it. Stein introduces some imagery that appears quite a bit in the Patusan episode, that of his collections of beetles and butterflies. Most of the descriptions are straightforward, but in one case Gentleman Brown malevolently invokes the image: “I’ve lived—and so did you, though you talk as if you were one of those people that should have wings so as to go about without touching the dirty earth. Well—it is dirty. I haven’t got any wings.” And with that, Brown puts his finger on the pulse of Jim’s guilt, using his own fears to probe Jim’s. Stein’s romanticism that I quoted in the previous post is how Jim lives in Patusan, “swimming” successfully in the “dangerous element” by not trying to rise out of it. There is one humorous image of Jim’s success (literally in this case of swimming in the dangerous element) upon his second leap for freedom—he lands on a muddy bank on the other side of the small river and almost buries himself alive by trying to climb out.
While there is some additional discussion on colonialism in the last section, it is usually much more open-ended or is presented with a counterpart. Gentleman Brown is probably the exception, with thoughts like “The land already seemed to be his to tear to pieces, squeeze, and throw away.” Yet even then his counterweight is Jim who runs the trading station fairly and equitably. Brown is someone that Jim could never comprehend nor know how to deal with. Jim's servant Tamb’ Itam has none of these problems when disposing of Cornelius. Evil is usually presented as having an advantage over pure innocence or inexperience. And by mistakenly identifying with Brown, Jim signs his death warrant.
At the end of the book, Marlow questions his judgment not just of Jim but of the meaning of (and reality of) Jim's existence:
There are days when the reality of his existence comes to me with an immense, with an overwhelming force; and yet upon my honour there are moments, too when he passes from my eyes like a disembodied spirit astray amongst the passions of this earth, ready to surrender himself faithfully to the claim of his own world of shades.
Marlow can’t answer whether Jim was a romantic reality or illusion, and of course neither can the reader. Despite everything presented, even if Marlow is accurate in his assumptions as to what is beneath the surface, the quote I could hear at the end was Marlow’s reaction to the inquiry (and was echoed in many places in the book): “They wanted facts. Facts! They demanded facts from him, as if facts could explain anything!”
As much as I would love to read much more Conrad right now, I’ll limit myself to The Shadow Line and then move on to Ford Maddox’s Ford The Good Soldier next. I hope to have the 1965 movie version of Lord Jim, with Peter O’Toole as Jim, available later this week and will add a review of it.
Lord Jim discussion: Chapters 14 – 24
This section covers from the outcome of the court inquiry through Jim reaching Patusan. The verdict was relatively mild, requiring the sailing certificates of the Patna crew cancelled (although you got the feeling it would have little impact for most of the crew). As Marlow put it, “The real significance of crime is in its being a breach of faith with the community of mankind…” which correlates with his view of a sailors' duty. The verdict was light given the potential outcome of their abandonment. It isn't clear if the verdict was lenient because of the positive outcome of the Patna, because Jim was the only one that actually stood trial, or because the judges understood what Jim faced. Or maybe they simply wanted to put this out of the public eye as fast as possible.
Jim comes to grips with the verdict and his future in Marlow’s hotel room and the anguish and frustration reflected within Jim is enormous. As with the wreck itself and Jim telling Marlow his tale, there is something ominous and dangerous lurking beneath the surface. There is the constant description of dangerous clouds or mist (or an opaqueness), as well as Jim standing “on the brink of a vast obscurity.” The torrential downpour symbolizes washing Jim's past away as Marlow recommends him for a position with a friend. What is certain is that if Marlow had recommended Jim for Chester’s guano island project, it would have been a death sentence. Relegating Jim to Patusan was far from a guaranteed safe position.
In the interim, Jim knocked about between jobs, leaving one as soon as his past catches up with him. Jim previously spoke of missing out on his chances, not standing up to them with heroic actions in addition to showing his resolve to stand up to anyone judging him. Yet he shirks his duties and the kindness shown him when hints of his involvement with the Patna surfaces and he runs yet again. In comparison, while working as a ship-chandler he displayed such courage that his bosses would declare that “it seemed as though he [Jim] wouldn’t mind going a hundred miles out to sea in an old shoe to nab a ship for the firm.” The priorities demonstrated by those that knew his secret demonstrate a moral perversion: they were more upset over his breaking a billiard cue than his abandoning 800 people to certain death.
The introduction of Stein raises hopes for Jim’s constant vulnerability for several reasons. Stein gives Jim a job in Patusan, where word of his shame would never reach those around him. Stein example of having lived two separate lives offers hope for Jim as well--experiencing deep loss and still being successful afterwards. Stein’s story about lost chances in capturing a rare butterfly, only to succeed when least expecting it, coincides with this hope for Jim. Finally, Stein offers a different type of romanticism counter to Jim:
Two more points that come into focus by this point in the book: Marlow’s reliability as a narrator and Conrad’s comments on empire. It was noticeable early on that Marlow is a narrator intimately involved within the narrative. During his recounting I kept noticing that Marlow was giving his impressions on what he thought was going through Jim’s mind and explaining Jim’s emotions. Marlow’s sensations on watching and listening to Jim are accurate, but the accuracy of the truth behind those impressions can not be known. Combine that with Marlow becoming more or less a father figure to Jim and you have a narrator you might not can trust. In this section, additional doubts creep in as Marlow admits that he can’t vouch for the accuracy of particular things said and done.
Regarding Conrad’s view of empire or colonialism, things are much more subtle in Lord Jim than in Heart of Darkness but comments do creep in. Early on in the book (Chapter 2), Conrad has this delicious passage revealing how the ease of colonial life corrupts many men:
Conrad drops a few similar comments on the impact empire has on both the natives and colonists, all of which are devastating in their understatement.
Jim comes to grips with the verdict and his future in Marlow’s hotel room and the anguish and frustration reflected within Jim is enormous. As with the wreck itself and Jim telling Marlow his tale, there is something ominous and dangerous lurking beneath the surface. There is the constant description of dangerous clouds or mist (or an opaqueness), as well as Jim standing “on the brink of a vast obscurity.” The torrential downpour symbolizes washing Jim's past away as Marlow recommends him for a position with a friend. What is certain is that if Marlow had recommended Jim for Chester’s guano island project, it would have been a death sentence. Relegating Jim to Patusan was far from a guaranteed safe position.
In the interim, Jim knocked about between jobs, leaving one as soon as his past catches up with him. Jim previously spoke of missing out on his chances, not standing up to them with heroic actions in addition to showing his resolve to stand up to anyone judging him. Yet he shirks his duties and the kindness shown him when hints of his involvement with the Patna surfaces and he runs yet again. In comparison, while working as a ship-chandler he displayed such courage that his bosses would declare that “it seemed as though he [Jim] wouldn’t mind going a hundred miles out to sea in an old shoe to nab a ship for the firm.” The priorities demonstrated by those that knew his secret demonstrate a moral perversion: they were more upset over his breaking a billiard cue than his abandoning 800 people to certain death.
The introduction of Stein raises hopes for Jim’s constant vulnerability for several reasons. Stein gives Jim a job in Patusan, where word of his shame would never reach those around him. Stein example of having lived two separate lives offers hope for Jim as well--experiencing deep loss and still being successful afterwards. Stein’s story about lost chances in capturing a rare butterfly, only to succeed when least expecting it, coincides with this hope for Jim. Finally, Stein offers a different type of romanticism counter to Jim:
”Yes! Very funny this terrible thing is. A man that is born falls into a dream like a man who falls into the sea. If he tries to climb out into the air as inexperienced people endeavour to do, he drowns—nicht wahr? … No! I tell you! The way is to the destructive element submit yourself, and with the exertions of your hands and feet in the water make the deep, deep sea keep you up”
Two more points that come into focus by this point in the book: Marlow’s reliability as a narrator and Conrad’s comments on empire. It was noticeable early on that Marlow is a narrator intimately involved within the narrative. During his recounting I kept noticing that Marlow was giving his impressions on what he thought was going through Jim’s mind and explaining Jim’s emotions. Marlow’s sensations on watching and listening to Jim are accurate, but the accuracy of the truth behind those impressions can not be known. Combine that with Marlow becoming more or less a father figure to Jim and you have a narrator you might not can trust. In this section, additional doubts creep in as Marlow admits that he can’t vouch for the accuracy of particular things said and done.
Regarding Conrad’s view of empire or colonialism, things are much more subtle in Lord Jim than in Heart of Darkness but comments do creep in. Early on in the book (Chapter 2), Conrad has this delicious passage revealing how the ease of colonial life corrupts many men:
They had now a horror of the home service, with its harder conditions, severer view of duty, and the hazard of stormy oceans. They were attuned to the eternal peace of Eastern sky and sea. They loved short passages, good deck-chairs, large native crews, and the distinction of being white. They shuddered at the thought of hard work, and led precariously easy lives, always on the verge of dismissal, always on the verge of engagement, serving Chinamen, Arabs, half-castes--would have served the devil himself had he made it easy enough. They talked everlastingly of turns of luck: how So-and-so got charge of a boat on the coast of China--a soft thing; how this one had an easy billet in Japan somewhere, and that one was doing well in the Siamese navy; and in all they said--in their actions, in their looks, in their persons--could be detected the soft spot, the place of decay, the determination to lounge safely through existence.
Conrad drops a few similar comments on the impact empire has on both the natives and colonists, all of which are devastating in their understatement.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Lord Jim discussion: Chapters 1 – 13
The text for Lord Jim can be found for free at Project Gutenberg. There are also audio versions there and at LibriVox. The breaks for discussion for Lord Jim are totally arbitrary but I hope they will be at natural points.
Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim was written around the same time as Heart of Darkness, between 1898 and 1900. Chapters 1 through 13 follow Jim’s education and introduction to the sea. “A simple and sensitive character,” Jim takes a job as first mate on the ship Patna. He has always been a daydreamer of sorts, reading romantic fiction and imagining all the heroic things he would achieve when tested. However when the Patna hits something in the water and threatens to sink, Jim abandons the ship along with the rest of the crew, leaving 800 pilgrims to Mecca to their fate on the leaking boat.
Chapters 1 through 4 has an omniscient narrator relaying the basic facts up to the inquiry of the Patna, while Conrad’s masterful creation Marlow takes over the telling of the tale in Chapter 5.
Jim’s detachment is one consistent trait--first losing himself in valorous dreams, then disengaging from the inquiry’s proceedings. Marlow clearly likes Jim from the start, watching Jim in court and then following up with dinner and conversation. Their meeting is just one of many ironies: after seeing Jim’s lack of courage on the Patna in court, Jim stands up to Marlow after mistakenly believing he was called a “wretched cur.” Then in detailing what happened aboard the ship, we find out things were a lot more complex than a simple case of desertion.
There is constant deception in the unveiling of the story as you are first led to believe certain things, then find out something different happened. For example, you first hear from the chief engineer on the boat that the Patna sank, only to find out it didn’t. (As to the non-sinking, there are several mentions to “how tough old iron can be” to hammer home the things a man can tolerate or take.) Or the apparent boredom of a member of the inquiry panel, Captain Brierly, who never had a weak moment shown in his command. Later it is revealed that he commits suicide shortly after the case. In addition to the deceptions there is abundant irony. One poignant example is the crew member who, while struggling to get clear of the ship, has a heart attack and dies—if he had been calm and stayed with the ship he would have survived.
The atmosphere of the sea is constantly changing, regardless if the weather does. One moment the stillness of the sea is described as serene, everlasting secure, with unbounded peace and safety. The next, the calm sea “appeared formidably insecure in their immobility, as if poised on the brow of yawning destruction.” The stillness is increasingly painted as threatening, with potential danger lurking just below the surface: “Above these faint sounds there was that awful stillness preceding a catastrophe, that trying silence of the moment before the crash.”
Despite the horror of what the crew of the Patna had done, Conrad infuses humor in the moment. The image of the crew members struggling to free a boat for their survival is laughable despite the revulsion of the act itself. You realize how inept the crew is at the start: from the fat German skipper bossing everyone around to the sniveling engineer. Once free of the Patna, the crew began shouting up at the boat: “Eight hundred living people, and they were yelling after the one dead man to come down and be saved. ‘Jump, George! Jump! Oh jump!’”
Having just read Heart of Darkness (HoD) it is difficult not to do some comparisons and see the similarities with Lord Jim (LJ). There is a constant theme of something lurking beneath the surface or the surface disguising what is truly underneath, whether it be the sea, the jungle, Jim, Captain Brierly, etc. Misplaced trust appears in both stories as well, not only for those in charge (Kurtz and entirely up the line in HoD, Jim and crew in LJ) but also in Marlow’s first description of Jim. Another consistency is older people helping out younger characters, whether Marlow’s aunt providing him with effusive letters vouching for his character (HoD) or with Brierly and Marlow offering to help Jim avoid sentencing in the inquiry. And while HoD is one long tale of a chance missed by the world in allowing King Leopold to oversee the Congo as well as Kurtz's turn to a dark side, there are several discrete moments in LJ highlighting chances that were missed to avoid dishonor and shame. The metaphor of Marlow and civilization floundering in HoD is given a physical example in LJ, both from the crew of the Patna and in Jim himself. One last note on similarities is the difficulty in telling the tale itself. Marlow had difficulty in HoD, as if still coming to grips with what he had seen. Jim, while detailing what happened on board the Patna constantly breaks off the conversation, becoming agitated and flustered. Words and facts are not enough to convey some experiences.
Once again I feel like I can’t do justice to what I’m covering in such a short post, so I’ll quote the section where I fell in love with the book and with Conrad. From the start of Chapter 7:
Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim was written around the same time as Heart of Darkness, between 1898 and 1900. Chapters 1 through 13 follow Jim’s education and introduction to the sea. “A simple and sensitive character,” Jim takes a job as first mate on the ship Patna. He has always been a daydreamer of sorts, reading romantic fiction and imagining all the heroic things he would achieve when tested. However when the Patna hits something in the water and threatens to sink, Jim abandons the ship along with the rest of the crew, leaving 800 pilgrims to Mecca to their fate on the leaking boat.
Chapters 1 through 4 has an omniscient narrator relaying the basic facts up to the inquiry of the Patna, while Conrad’s masterful creation Marlow takes over the telling of the tale in Chapter 5.
Jim’s detachment is one consistent trait--first losing himself in valorous dreams, then disengaging from the inquiry’s proceedings. Marlow clearly likes Jim from the start, watching Jim in court and then following up with dinner and conversation. Their meeting is just one of many ironies: after seeing Jim’s lack of courage on the Patna in court, Jim stands up to Marlow after mistakenly believing he was called a “wretched cur.” Then in detailing what happened aboard the ship, we find out things were a lot more complex than a simple case of desertion.
There is constant deception in the unveiling of the story as you are first led to believe certain things, then find out something different happened. For example, you first hear from the chief engineer on the boat that the Patna sank, only to find out it didn’t. (As to the non-sinking, there are several mentions to “how tough old iron can be” to hammer home the things a man can tolerate or take.) Or the apparent boredom of a member of the inquiry panel, Captain Brierly, who never had a weak moment shown in his command. Later it is revealed that he commits suicide shortly after the case. In addition to the deceptions there is abundant irony. One poignant example is the crew member who, while struggling to get clear of the ship, has a heart attack and dies—if he had been calm and stayed with the ship he would have survived.
The atmosphere of the sea is constantly changing, regardless if the weather does. One moment the stillness of the sea is described as serene, everlasting secure, with unbounded peace and safety. The next, the calm sea “appeared formidably insecure in their immobility, as if poised on the brow of yawning destruction.” The stillness is increasingly painted as threatening, with potential danger lurking just below the surface: “Above these faint sounds there was that awful stillness preceding a catastrophe, that trying silence of the moment before the crash.”
Despite the horror of what the crew of the Patna had done, Conrad infuses humor in the moment. The image of the crew members struggling to free a boat for their survival is laughable despite the revulsion of the act itself. You realize how inept the crew is at the start: from the fat German skipper bossing everyone around to the sniveling engineer. Once free of the Patna, the crew began shouting up at the boat: “Eight hundred living people, and they were yelling after the one dead man to come down and be saved. ‘Jump, George! Jump! Oh jump!’”
Having just read Heart of Darkness (HoD) it is difficult not to do some comparisons and see the similarities with Lord Jim (LJ). There is a constant theme of something lurking beneath the surface or the surface disguising what is truly underneath, whether it be the sea, the jungle, Jim, Captain Brierly, etc. Misplaced trust appears in both stories as well, not only for those in charge (Kurtz and entirely up the line in HoD, Jim and crew in LJ) but also in Marlow’s first description of Jim. Another consistency is older people helping out younger characters, whether Marlow’s aunt providing him with effusive letters vouching for his character (HoD) or with Brierly and Marlow offering to help Jim avoid sentencing in the inquiry. And while HoD is one long tale of a chance missed by the world in allowing King Leopold to oversee the Congo as well as Kurtz's turn to a dark side, there are several discrete moments in LJ highlighting chances that were missed to avoid dishonor and shame. The metaphor of Marlow and civilization floundering in HoD is given a physical example in LJ, both from the crew of the Patna and in Jim himself. One last note on similarities is the difficulty in telling the tale itself. Marlow had difficulty in HoD, as if still coming to grips with what he had seen. Jim, while detailing what happened on board the Patna constantly breaks off the conversation, becoming agitated and flustered. Words and facts are not enough to convey some experiences.
Once again I feel like I can’t do justice to what I’m covering in such a short post, so I’ll quote the section where I fell in love with the book and with Conrad. From the start of Chapter 7:
An outward-bound mail-boat had come in that afternoon, and the big dining-room of the hotel was more than half full of people with a-hundred-pounds-round-the-world tickets in their pockets. There were married couples looking domesticated and bored with each other in the midst of their travels; there were small parties and large parties, and lone individuals dining solemnly or feasting boisterously, but all thinking, conversing, joking, or scowling as was their wont at home; and just as intelligently receptive of new impressions as their trunks upstairs. Henceforth they would be labelled as having passed through this and that place, and so would be their luggage. They would cherish this distinction of their persons, and preserve the gummed tickets on their portmanteaus as documentary evidence, as the only permanent trace of their improving enterprise.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Heart of Darkness
I’m sure that almost everything that can be said about Heart of Darkness has already been said (except for someone writing a dissertation on some of the minutiae). But I’ll throw a few things together anyway.
First, the text can be found on Project Gutenberg.
A free audio reading of it can be found on LibriVox.
The Mercury Theatre (the drama company founded by Orson Welles) did a radio version of the novella, which can be found at the Mercury Theatre on the Air summary website. The Heart of Darkness portion of the broadcast is only about 35 minutes long, and relatively true to the book despite some liberties. The sound quality leaves a lot to be desired, but it is also part of the appeal.
Also, see the previous post for more resources on Joseph Conrad.
I had to read Heart of Darkness in high school and I remember liking it quite a bit, even with a few reservations. I would say this current reading made me like and appreciate it much more, but I probably have more reservations about it. As I’m sure many have pointed out, Conrad makes the atmosphere of the story palpable—you feel almost everything he paints. He clearly achieves what he outines in the preface to another book: “My task which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word to make you hear, to make you feel—it is, before all, to make you see.” It is difficult not to hear, feel, or see this story when reading it.
The interplay between his concrete descriptions and their symbolism is fascinating to watch. One example is his visit to the company’s offices and the women there—he describes them so well I can see them, while their symbolic role as the Fates doesn’t feel forced. Multiple allusions for the same thing don't seem contradictory. The trip itself is alluded to as a descent into hell while at the same time the comparison to traveling back to a primeval earth is also apt.
The absurdities shown within Heart of Darkness are as laughable as they are pitiful. They pile up page after page: the French man-of-war shelling supposed enemies in the jungle canopy, the pointless blasting to build a railroad when all the equipment is rusted or broken, paying the cannibals with brass wire, the inability to get rivets to fix the boat while the previous station has rivets everywhere, the death of the previous captain over a disagreement about two hens, and on and on and on. However, the atrocities offset the humor that the absurdities offer. While there are many atrocities in the book, there seem to be many more hinted at yet never quite shown. The most moving for me had to be the “grove of death,” which Marlow accidentally stumbled through. Marlow uses several ghostly and ethereal descriptions of the forested section where natives crawled off to die, invoking one of many times that the experience feels like a nightmare. Together, the absurdities and atrocities highlight the disconnect between the stated mission in the Congo and the reality. Marlow sees partway through it before even getting there, informing his aunt that “the Company was run for profit.” At this point in the book, he can dismiss her gullibility since she is a woman.
What he can’t dismiss later on is the self-reflection and realization of the depths of human darkness. The parts about Kurtz had left me a little cold the first time I read Heart of Darkness. I didn’t understand the appeal of Kurtz for Marlow, why he felt driven to see him or to hear him talk. Part of me still didn’t quite get it in this reading either, but I see the changes within Marlow after he reaches Africa and can better understand the need to meet someone that is described as being above the absurdities and atrocities he is constantly encountering. Of course, after he reaches Kurtz, Marlow realizes the logical and nightmarish extension of everything he’s seen.
There is so much within the story that could be commented on: the thin veneer of civilization and what happens when that is stripped away from ‘hollow’ people is reiterated many times within the story, for example. The comparisons and contrasts are as forceful as I’ve read anywhere else, although sometimes a little heavy-handed. For example, the restraint shown by the starving cannibal boat crew in comparison to the rapacious behavior by almost all the Europeans almost overdoes things, yet it still drives the point home.
The last point I’ll focus on was my realization that the book is primarily about Marlow. Part of the frustration in reading through the book in high school was the delay in moving the narration along. But that is what made Marlow so effective in telling the story—he is still coming to grips with what happened and struggling to find the right language to convey what he experienced. For all the detailed images in the book, there are a lot of oblique descriptors: unspeakable, impossible, unfathomable, or inconceivable for example. Things are hinted at but not detailed by Marlow, either unable or unwilling to spell things out as he did the rest of his tale. A master storyteller, his frustration at certain points causes him to pause, lose himself in thought, seemingly interrupt or contradict himself, or even lash out at his listeners. The impact made on the writer, as relayed through his narrator, shows the power that lingers on even after escaping the darkness.
Next up in reading more Conrad will be Lord Jim, with a quick review of Mark Twain’s pamphlet King Leopold’s Soliloquy.
First, the text can be found on Project Gutenberg.
A free audio reading of it can be found on LibriVox.
The Mercury Theatre (the drama company founded by Orson Welles) did a radio version of the novella, which can be found at the Mercury Theatre on the Air summary website. The Heart of Darkness portion of the broadcast is only about 35 minutes long, and relatively true to the book despite some liberties. The sound quality leaves a lot to be desired, but it is also part of the appeal.
Also, see the previous post for more resources on Joseph Conrad.
I had to read Heart of Darkness in high school and I remember liking it quite a bit, even with a few reservations. I would say this current reading made me like and appreciate it much more, but I probably have more reservations about it. As I’m sure many have pointed out, Conrad makes the atmosphere of the story palpable—you feel almost everything he paints. He clearly achieves what he outines in the preface to another book: “My task which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word to make you hear, to make you feel—it is, before all, to make you see.” It is difficult not to hear, feel, or see this story when reading it.
The interplay between his concrete descriptions and their symbolism is fascinating to watch. One example is his visit to the company’s offices and the women there—he describes them so well I can see them, while their symbolic role as the Fates doesn’t feel forced. Multiple allusions for the same thing don't seem contradictory. The trip itself is alluded to as a descent into hell while at the same time the comparison to traveling back to a primeval earth is also apt.
The absurdities shown within Heart of Darkness are as laughable as they are pitiful. They pile up page after page: the French man-of-war shelling supposed enemies in the jungle canopy, the pointless blasting to build a railroad when all the equipment is rusted or broken, paying the cannibals with brass wire, the inability to get rivets to fix the boat while the previous station has rivets everywhere, the death of the previous captain over a disagreement about two hens, and on and on and on. However, the atrocities offset the humor that the absurdities offer. While there are many atrocities in the book, there seem to be many more hinted at yet never quite shown. The most moving for me had to be the “grove of death,” which Marlow accidentally stumbled through. Marlow uses several ghostly and ethereal descriptions of the forested section where natives crawled off to die, invoking one of many times that the experience feels like a nightmare. Together, the absurdities and atrocities highlight the disconnect between the stated mission in the Congo and the reality. Marlow sees partway through it before even getting there, informing his aunt that “the Company was run for profit.” At this point in the book, he can dismiss her gullibility since she is a woman.
What he can’t dismiss later on is the self-reflection and realization of the depths of human darkness. The parts about Kurtz had left me a little cold the first time I read Heart of Darkness. I didn’t understand the appeal of Kurtz for Marlow, why he felt driven to see him or to hear him talk. Part of me still didn’t quite get it in this reading either, but I see the changes within Marlow after he reaches Africa and can better understand the need to meet someone that is described as being above the absurdities and atrocities he is constantly encountering. Of course, after he reaches Kurtz, Marlow realizes the logical and nightmarish extension of everything he’s seen.
There is so much within the story that could be commented on: the thin veneer of civilization and what happens when that is stripped away from ‘hollow’ people is reiterated many times within the story, for example. The comparisons and contrasts are as forceful as I’ve read anywhere else, although sometimes a little heavy-handed. For example, the restraint shown by the starving cannibal boat crew in comparison to the rapacious behavior by almost all the Europeans almost overdoes things, yet it still drives the point home.
The last point I’ll focus on was my realization that the book is primarily about Marlow. Part of the frustration in reading through the book in high school was the delay in moving the narration along. But that is what made Marlow so effective in telling the story—he is still coming to grips with what happened and struggling to find the right language to convey what he experienced. For all the detailed images in the book, there are a lot of oblique descriptors: unspeakable, impossible, unfathomable, or inconceivable for example. Things are hinted at but not detailed by Marlow, either unable or unwilling to spell things out as he did the rest of his tale. A master storyteller, his frustration at certain points causes him to pause, lose himself in thought, seemingly interrupt or contradict himself, or even lash out at his listeners. The impact made on the writer, as relayed through his narrator, shows the power that lingers on even after escaping the darkness.
Next up in reading more Conrad will be Lord Jim, with a quick review of Mark Twain’s pamphlet King Leopold’s Soliloquy.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Joseph Conrad online resources
There is a lot available online about Joseph Conrad and his work. This doesn't pretend to be a comprehensive list, but the links (to date) I've found helpful:
Joseph Conrad's Wikipedia entry. While I already knew some about him, his personal life is as interesting as his works.
Conrad's online texts at Project Gutenberg
Free audiobook of Heart of Darkness
Other Conrad audiobooks at Librivox
Conrad’s complete works at eBooks@Adelaide
I found this rather nice: Conrad First is a digital archive of every newspaper and magazine in which the work of Joseph Conrad appeared between 1896 and 1935.
The Joseph Conrad Society (UK)
Joseph Conrad links offers many hyperlinks to other specialized Conrad sites.
The Joseph Conrad Foundation
Update: Giles Foden has a nice recap of Conrad's life and works in The Guardian in honor of the 150th anniversary of his birth--The moral agent
Joseph Conrad's Wikipedia entry. While I already knew some about him, his personal life is as interesting as his works.
Conrad's online texts at Project Gutenberg
Free audiobook of Heart of Darkness
Other Conrad audiobooks at Librivox
Conrad’s complete works at eBooks@Adelaide
I found this rather nice: Conrad First is a digital archive of every newspaper and magazine in which the work of Joseph Conrad appeared between 1896 and 1935.
The Joseph Conrad Society (UK)
Joseph Conrad links offers many hyperlinks to other specialized Conrad sites.
The Joseph Conrad Foundation
Update: Giles Foden has a nice recap of Conrad's life and works in The Guardian in honor of the 150th anniversary of his birth--The moral agent
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