Heart of Darkness

Heart of Darkness affected me deeply. Joseph Conrad's incredible writing style and ability coupled with his gloomy tale concerning the darker reaches of the human soul creates a powerfully engaging story. The events themselves are masterfully told, but it's the nuances of Conrad's writing that steal the imagination. (Though, this belief may be due to my use of this book for the "learning to write" annotation.)

Conrad employs dry wit sparingly, but effectively, throughout his story. "[The arrows] might have been poisoned, but they looked as though they wouldn't kill a cat." "What they wanted to keep that body hanging about for I can't guess. Embalm it, maybe." Conrad's story revolves around the black depths of human nature, and in a story so bleak and stark, some fitting humor greatly lightens the mood. At least for a time.

More of Conrad's genius shines in his repetition of words. It's rampant! Marlow often repeats words two, three, more times in succession! Sometimes it is for humorous purposes, to lighten the oppressive gloom of the story, as illustrated in Marlow's lengthy "rivet" rant. But the repetition elsewhere is far more grave. "So beastly, beastly dark," "very quiet—perfectly quiet, "A voice! a voice," "to swallow all the air, all the earth, all the men before him." Each word pierces the skull, driving into the brain, intensifying the dread and darkness of the tale. The echoes cast further weight and severity unto the events at hand, crafting some of Conrad's most striking scenes, as in a dying man's last words. "The horror! The horror!"

Most notable, though, is Conrad's use of Marlow as a narrator. Friendly, little "you know"s and "I suppose"s endear Marlow to the reader, lending the book the atmosphere of a night spent by the fireside chatting with friends. The dark and gloomy world painted for the reader holds this human element, the element of a companion, a friend, which causes the terrors of Conrad's invention to stay with you long after the book has been laid down.

Breaking out of the self-contained world of Marlow's journey, Conrad often appeals to the reader directly. Marlow is in fact addressing the other members on the boat, outside of the tale he is telling, but it does not feel this way. Marlow's questions to the listener, of what resides in the hearts of men, they do not ask of his comrades on that vessel; they ask of us. And that is why we, the readers, feel the need to answer the questions posed by this book—regardless of the truths we might uncover.

Heart of Darkness impresses—even to the last sentence.

"The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed sombre under an overcast sky—seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness."

The dark jungle does not solely house it. One need not witness the final condemnation of a soul stained black to find it. One only need stare off into the unending sea. And there, in that reflection, some will see the heart of darkness.