Book Review - Classic #5 - Heart of Darkness

I have a long list of things that I  wanted/needed to do today, and included on that list was to write something.  Either a blog post or a much backlogged book review.  I've got laundry sitting in both washer and dryer, peanut brittle to make, exercise to accomplish and a family home evening craft that needs parts gathered, not to mention getting four boys fed in the next thirty minutes.  I hate that all the other stuff seems more pressing.  I am bucking my sense of responsibility and writing instead.

While other as-yet unreviewed classics confounded me first, Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad is the latest completed novel on my list of twenty to help me feel inept as a reader.  At first glance, I actually thought this would be much appreciated lighter fare among some of my heftier choices.  With only ninety-eight pages from start to finish, it's probably more accurately labeled a short story.  Those ninety-eight pages, however, took me three weeks to finish.While it didn't actually take me a long time to read, this, as my evening companion, had me choosing almost anything else over reading.  TV?  Yes.  Shoveling snow?  Has to be done.  Bejewled Blitz on Facebook?  It's only a minute (the problem arises when one turns to sixty).

When I actually managed to read, the narrative was impressive.  Joseph Conrad was Polish and didn't learn English until he was twenty and working on a British merchant ship.  Not only did he learn English, he mastered it.  The vocabulary and description are both beautiful and complex.  There are also layers upon layers of metaphor.  Maybe too many layers.  Everything was darkness.  The water was dark.  The forest was dark.  The people, chains, moonless night, smoke, room etc. etc. were dark.  It felt  like a bit much.  Sure, he had a thesaurus and used words like murky, black, shady but you still knew - he was talking about darkness.   Got it.

Upon finishing, I felt a tad superior mocking all the obvious symbolism, as if all of his dark references were the point.  Then, I read a few reviews from people who clearly have had an English class or ten, and they were mentioning his hidden references to Greek mythology and other indirect allusions to more classics I have not read.  Like I always do when I'm frustrated, I complained to my mother who assured me all those nuances are what make it a classic.   She made me feel better about my classics 101 level of understanding and I'm more than happy to leave Heart of Darkness 403 for people with Greek minors. 

What made me like this book was the sense of accomplishment when the story was finished.  Conrad, with all of his darkness overkill, does not hand this story over on a platter.  The narration is tricky.  Marlow spends the bulk of the novel speaking in first person, but, occasionally, you realize there is another narrator.  It's the guy who is listening to Marlow and there's probably an important reason for that shift of responsibility.  That, however, is covered in Heart of Darkness 201.  I'm going to let it go.

What made me dislike this book was the sense of "what the heck?" when the story was finished.  Jay read this in high school (in high school, people!) and at one point asked me, "So, have you been introduced to Kurtz yet?"  He remembered Kurtz, who, I admit, is often mentioned throughout the book.  When he asked, I hadn't yet, but his and Marlow's awe while mentioning his name added to an overly-hyped sense of anticipation of Kurtz's contribution to Conrad's novel.

Kurtz is hardly in the book.  What he does, how he does it, where he does it all seem central to the book, but the details, those things that make sense of the rest of the plot, are never given.  I know it has something to do with oppression.  And racism.  And evil.  But, my naive little mind doesn't know how far to go.  He dies saying, "The horror!  The horror!"  So, it's probably pretty bad.  But I don't know!  It's just all so....dark.

In any case, I'm ready to move on.  I'm embarrassed that this apparent high school level reading so kicked my tail.  I may need to read some Nicholas Sparks or Stephanie Meyer to get some of my  mojo back.