Conrad’s singular phrase from the turn-of-the-century novella, Heart of Darkness, says it all. So many have borrowed from it, the best known work being Apocalypse Now, which is set in Vietnam instead of the Congo. Most people find the book a challenging read, but with a few pointers up front, it’s worth the effort.
First, the organizational structure is a frame story. The narrator, Marlowe, is sitting on a boat on the Thames as he relates his experience of a trip up the Congo River. The point of view is that of Coleridge’s “sadder but wiser” man in recollection. Marlowe had been a model British navy man — a young, company man, somewhat naive. His assignment was to travel to the Congo and retrieve a “superior” man, Mr. Kurtz, who has been out of contact with authorities. Along the journey Marlowe constantly hears tales of Kurtz’s excellent spirit, original genius, and business acumen. He is a legend.
At various stopping places along the route into the jungle (”rain forests” did not exist,) Marlowe, in his pristine white uniform, becomes disillusioned as he encounters mistreatment of the natives by the British soldiers, the oppressive heat, and the general purposelessness of British occupation and of daily routine. “(Recall that the interior of the “dark continent” had not been penetrated by white men until Dr. Stanley Livingstone, who, of course, named Victoria Falls.) Far from home in the wild, Marlowe begins to slide into the same spirit of ennui and worse that had infected Kurtz.
After a number of dangers and strange acquaintances, Marlowe reaches Kurtz’s outpost, which is complete with human heads on the fortress’s walls. Kurtz, the excellent British specimen and “superior man” has set himself up as a god and keeps local natives in his service, including a black mistress. He profits obscenely from the ivory trade, butchered carcases everywhere. He has participated in and probably initiated what Conrad in 1899 will only call “unspeakable rites.” Cannibalism is intimated.
What Marlowe finds is a ruined, sick, small man. Kurtz is at the point of death as he is carried onto Marlowe’s boat to be rescued. But it’s too late. The dying man hasn’t been so free and excellent. He was, after all, a man, and in the geographical “heart of darkness,” he discovers and sees for the first time his own spiritual heart of darkness. He sank to depths of depravity and can’t handle it psychologically revealing himself to be not a paragon, but another weak man. He knows this and is so stricken by self awareness that his last words are a miserable “the horror, the horror.”
His end is that of the man of extreme giftedness and intelligence, of good reportage, who, in a place so far from home and the confines and boundaries of society (British culture,) oversteps, transgresses, suffers, and consequently dies a horrible death, though one of recognition in the end.
Interestingly, Marlowe must go and inform The Intended, Kurtz’s very English fiancee back home. He lies to her telling her that her beloved’s last words were her name. This symbolizes Marlowe’s return to society and its values and ways. His disillusionment is real, but he is able to go forward, but never the same. Everything is interpreted as a facade, whitewashed like so many European cities named in the book. But he survives and sits in the lotus position to tell the tale, like the Ancient Mariner, to others who may or may not profit.
With this background Conrad’s layered symbolism becomes accessible: the heat, the jungle, the river, the death, the darkness. It’s about the dark continent, then new and mysterious to the world, and it’s about the dark human heart, always the same.
If you are new to Conrad, persist through the stream-of-consciousness technique, general heaviness, and impressionistic imagery. A John Malkovich film version is available, but the Marlon Brando as Kurtz Apocalypse Now is better known. I don’t care for either.
