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A review by olupoginol
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
5.0
I had tried to read this book several times before, always feeling out of sync with it—but this December, I finally finished it.
The novel builds its tension around the enigmatic Mr. Kurtz, a figure whose presence is both ubiquitous and, paradoxically, hollow. By the time Kurtz finally appears, he is a fragment of the man we were led to anticipate—his voice, his thoughts, his power all dissipated. And yet, Marlow truly does come to know Kurtz“as well as it is possible for one man to know another”. This knowledge coming from their humanity and mortality. This anti-climactic unraveling serves as the novel’s profound statement: the truths we seek are often empty, and what remains is the bareness of human existence, experience and darkness.
Marlow’s fascination with Kurtz is not born of blind admiration but of a subtle recognition that Kurtz understands the moral abyss of his own actions. He respects Kurtz not for his power or “promise” or “vision”, but only because from the beginning he senses that Kurtz, however fleetingly, understands the “horror” of what he has done and become.
The portrayal of African characters is deeply unsettling by design. They are shown through the eyes of the colonizers—silent, savage, dehumanized. Yet, in this depiction, Conrad exposes the inhumanity of that perspective. The novel does not soften or sanitize Marlow’s perspective—it could not, without falsifying history.
The genius of the book is so simple: Conrad never explicitly says that the bad things are bad and the good things are good; it presumes “the horror” of it all to be self-evident.
The novel builds its tension around the enigmatic Mr. Kurtz, a figure whose presence is both ubiquitous and, paradoxically, hollow. By the time Kurtz finally appears, he is a fragment of the man we were led to anticipate—his voice, his thoughts, his power all dissipated. And yet, Marlow truly does come to know Kurtz“as well as it is possible for one man to know another”. This knowledge coming from their humanity and mortality. This anti-climactic unraveling serves as the novel’s profound statement: the truths we seek are often empty, and what remains is the bareness of human existence, experience and darkness.
Marlow’s fascination with Kurtz is not born of blind admiration but of a subtle recognition that Kurtz understands the moral abyss of his own actions. He respects Kurtz not for his power or “promise” or “vision”, but only because from the beginning he senses that Kurtz, however fleetingly, understands the “horror” of what he has done and become.
The portrayal of African characters is deeply unsettling by design. They are shown through the eyes of the colonizers—silent, savage, dehumanized. Yet, in this depiction, Conrad exposes the inhumanity of that perspective. The novel does not soften or sanitize Marlow’s perspective—it could not, without falsifying history.
The genius of the book is so simple: Conrad never explicitly says that the bad things are bad and the good things are good; it presumes “the horror” of it all to be self-evident.