I have to admit that this is my first official blog ever. I feel that it's somewhat fitting, that we are talking about Conrad and modernism, with one of the adages of modernism coined by Ezra Pound being "make it new," and I am certainly doing a new thing blogging.
So. Heart of Darkness. Perhaps Conrad's greatest work, I had never read it properly, but had a passing literary familiarity with it and Conrad. The most profound thing that struck me was how much it reminded me in the diction of Lord of the Flies (which I taught a group of 10th graders last fall). I have to admit I wasn't really surprised by this, given the obsession of both novels with the imagery of the underworld. Heart of Darkness wants the reader to make no mistake where Marlow's boat is heading.
Having not read much Conrad before, I was surprised to notice some consistencies between Heart of Darkness and the other Conrad story I have read: The Secret Sharer. Both share a nautical theme, but there is a much more subtle resemblance in the narrator, with both being characters telling a story. The majority of Heart of Darkness is a re-telling by Marlow, who is recalling these events as he remembers them, and is speaking to an audience. Similarly, the narrator in The Secret Sharer is recalling the events of that tale from many years later, and re-telling these events to some unknown listener(s). The Secret Sharer is much more subtle in telling who is narrating--there are only a few indications that someone is telling this tale to another, whereas it is much more overt in Heart of Darkness. What makes this particularly interesting is the nature of memory. As Humans, we all know memory is not perfect. It is an interesting choice to tell a story through the memory of a character (though this seems relatively common around the time Conrad is writing), but it is even more interesting because Conrad apparently does this with some frequency. Because memory is not perfect, and because of the dubious circumstances of Marlow's trip, perhaps we have reason to question the validity of Marlow's tale. All of this leads to the question: Can we trust Marlow, and if so, when?
Yes, indeed. Memory is not perfect. When I read memoir--like Angelou's "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings," I know that it is based on fact--events in her life--but facts as she remembers and then there would me her desire to emphasize certain aspects and maybe embellish? Then there is the novel based on real life events--St. Aubyn's Patrick Melrose series. He says that the events in the novels are largely based on his life ("The New Yorker," 6/2/14, 43-55). These being novelizations of life events, the truth is then twice removed from reality. Marlow's narrative is similarly removed and, as you point out, there are the exaggerations to keep his audience entertained. So, who can you believe?
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