Heart of Darkness
I just finished Heart of Darkness after two days of reading, which considering its mere 100 page length ought to tell you something about just how dense a novella it is. In fact, among those who've seen me reading it in the hallways the past couple days, the density of the book is the one thing most remembered. I'd say the other really striking thing is just how serious a book it is, and how seriously it takes itself. I do not think many would question what an important and brilliant novel David Copperfield is, but read it side-by-side with Conrad and the comic overtones that Dickens employs stand out all the more starkly. Heart of Darkness is, appropriately, almost entirely devoid of humor. Combine that with its density and it is little wonder that high school students have cursed the name of Joseph Conrad for generations.
As I said yesterday, it is the recent unpleasantness in Haiti, combined with our efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan, which finally inspired me to re-read Conrad's novella. I'm not sure I found exactly what I was looking for, but I think the light/darkness motif has at least a couple potential interpretations which would be of some relevance.
The first intepretation of light/darkness I see would be as a contrast of civilized versus savage, at least in the eyes of Marlow and his European contemporaries. One line early in the text stood out, and strikes me as the lynchpin not only to understanding this aspect of the book, but in some ways understanding the relationship Americans (and Europeans before us) have with what we consider the dark and troubled parts of the world:
And this also has been one of the dark places of the earth.
With that line, Marlow interrupts the unnamed narrator's account of the great adventures and conquests that have been launched from London and the Thames, and conjures images of the Romans landing at Britain and finding savage barbarism wholly inferior to their Roman lifestyles.
It seems there are two ways to read this line. Either as a warning to imperialists who rest their claims on inherent superiority, or as encouragement to those who can find hope in the fact that even the great civilizations of today started somewhere. In other words, who can tell what greatness will arise from the less modern parts of the contemporary world. I think it fair to say that Conrad's novel is primarily, and rightly, considered to harbor strong anti-colonial sentiment. But I think there is a touch of hope in that line about dark places, suggesting that even from the darkness, light can emerge.
The second interpretation of light/darkness I see is a contrast between good and evil. And here, the two important questions seem to be: 1) Is there really a darkness, or is it just the condescending perspective of the white Europeans that sees such a darkness?; 2) If there is a darkness, how can we be so sure we didn't just bring it with us? I think this latter question is particularly important for current American forays into foreign lands. Our goals and conduct in those pursuits tell us at least as much about ourselves as they do about the objects of our behavior. If we see a darkness in these places, perhaps it is a darkness revealed in ourselves, carried into foreign lands and exposed under fire.
