Showing posts with label Conrad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Conrad. Show all posts

Monday, August 14, 2023

Proust as creator

 


PROUST AS CREATOR
By Joseph Conrad

. . . . .

AS to Marcel Proust, créateur, I don’t think he has been written about much in English, and what I have seen of it was rather superficial. I have seen him praised for his “wonderful” pictures of Paris life and provincial life. But that has been done admirably before, for us, either in love, or in hatred, or in mere irony. One critic goes so far as to say that Proust’s great art reaches the universal, and that in depicting his own past he reproduces for us the general experience of mankind. But I doubt it. I admire him rather for disclosing a past like nobody else’s, for enlarging, as it were, the general experience of mankind by bringing to it something that has not been recorded before. However, all that is not of much importance. The important thing is that whereas before we had analysis allied to creative art, great in poetic conception, in observation, or in style, his is a creative art absolutely based on analysis. It is really more than that. He is a writer who has pushed analysis to the point when it becomes creative. All that crowd of personages in their-127- infinite variety through all the gradations of the social scale are rendered visible to us by the force of analysis alone. I don’t say Proust has no gift of description or characterisation; but, to take an example from each end of the scale: Françoise, the devoted servant, and the Baron de Charlus, a consummate portrait—how many descriptive lines have they got to themselves in the whole body of that immense work? Perhaps, counting the lines, half a page each. And yet no intelligent person can doubt for a moment their plastic and coloured existence. One would think that this method (and Proust has no other, because his method is the expression of his temperament) may be carried too far, but as a matter of fact it is never wearisome. There may be here and there amongst those thousands of pages a paragraph that one might think over-subtle, a bit of analysis pushed so far as to vanish into nothingness. But those are very few, and all minor instances. The intellectual pleasure never flags, because one has the feeling that the last word is being said upon a subject much studied, much written about, and of human interest—the last word of its time. Those that have found beauty in Proust’s work are perfectly right. It is there. What amazes one is its inexplicable character. In that prose so full of life there is no reverie, no emotion, no marked irony, no warmth of conviction, not even a marked rhythm to charm our ear. It appeals to our sense of wonder and gains our-128- homage by its veiled greatness. I don’t think there ever has been in the whole of literature such an example of the power of analysis, and I feel pretty safe in saying that there will never be another.


 AN ENGLISH TRIBUTE





Monday, December 5, 2022

Robert McCrum / All Time Top 10

 

Joseph Conrad

All Time Top 10

Robert McCrum
Sunday 16 August 2015 09.00 BST

Finally, we are left with the classics, often by dead white males, those books to which English language readers worldwide return again and again. Say what you like about my list (and thousands have merrily done so these past two years), the Anglo-American literary tradition, a source of some sublime and imperishable masterpieces, deserves to be celebrated for some astonishing achievements. Here, to provoke Observer readers just one last time, is my All Time Top 10 (chosen from this series, in chronological order):




007 Emma by Jane Austen (1816)
Jane Austen’s Emma is her masterpiece, mixing the sparkle of her early books with a deep sensibility.




Emily Brontë’s windswept masterpiece is notable not just for its wild beauty but for its daring reinvention of the novel form itself.




Wise, funny and gripping, Melville’s epic work continues to cast a long shadow over American literature.


This cathedral of words stands today as perhaps the greatest of the great Victorian fictions.


Mark Twain’s tale of a rebel boy and a runaway slave seeking liberation upon the waters of the Mississippi remains a defining classic of American literature.




Joseph Conrad’s masterpiece about a life-changing journey in search of Mr Kurtz has the simplicity of great myth.


The Rainbow is perhaps DH Lawrence’s finest work, showing him for the radical, protean, thoroughly modern writer he was.


This portrait of a day in the lives of three Dubliners remains a towering work, in its word play surpassing even Shakespeare.



Woolf’s great novel makes a day of party preparations the canvas for themes of lost love, life choices and mental illness.




Fitzgerald’s jazz age masterpiece has become a tantalising metaphor for the eternal mystery of art.
You pays yer money, and you takes yer choice.

Monday, November 28, 2022

Book Reviw 032 / Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad





Heart of Darkness 

by Joseph Conrad

1899 

[A Review]



From humble beginnings, Joseph Conrad’s novella, Heart of Darkness, rose to become a classroom staple for much of the twentieth century. Its themes of racism and colonial exploitation within an evocative and enigmatic story, showcasing techniques that would influence later masters, ensured a prominent place for analysis. Whether it still retains its relevance is an open question. Despite whatever the novel’s shortcomings may be, and however confident we may be in our own moral superiority to the past, it is surely always a mistake to not examine and appreciate the past for what it was.

Monday, December 14, 2020

The top 10 classic spy novels



The top 10 classic spy novels

From Joseph Conrad to John le Carré, intelligence historian Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones picks the fiction that best reveals the secrets of espionage

Rhodri Jeffreys-Jones
Wed 26 June 2013

In 1972, a friend gave me a tip about the then-unknown Somerset Maugham papers in Yale University Library. "You're interested in labour spies," he said, "so why don't you take a look at this novelist guy who spied for the UK and USA at the time of the Russian Revolution?" I took his advice, and turned to the study of foreign intelligence.

So my selection of novels reflects the interests of a historian, and draws on both domestic and foreign espionage. They are "classics" in being of some antiquity, and because, in addition to being of literary merit, they tell us something of their era.

1. The Spy; or, A Tale of the Neutral Ground by James Fenimore Cooper (1821)
A factually-based account of the exploits of Harvey Birch, a secret agent in the American War of Independence. The impecunious spy "belonged to a condition in life which rendered him the least reluctant to appear in so equivocal a character". Birch's case officer, the future president George Washington, hears complaints after the war that the retired spy might prove to be loose-tongued – the new United States had no hold on him, as it had never paid him a salary. Birch inverted that logic in his explanation of why they could rely on his silence: "Tell them I would not take the gold!"

2. The Riddle of the Sands: A Record of Secret Service Recently Achieved by Erskine Childers (1903)
If you enjoyed Swallows and Amazons, check this out. Negotiating the Frisian coast in his yacht Dulcibella, Arthur Davies is accompanied by his Foreign Office chum Carruthers. They obtain evidence to prove that Germany is planning an invasion of England. Childers debunkers pointed out that Frisian waters were too shallow for warships and the hinterland had no warehousing facilities to serve the needs of an invasion. A footnote: on the eve of the war, the Anglo-Irish Childers used his own yacht to smuggle German arms to Ireland to help the cause of independence. In 1922 he suffered death by firing squad in the course of the Irish civil war, telling his American-born wife on the eve of his execution that he still loved England.

3. The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale by Joseph Conrad (1907)
Mr Verloc, the protagonist of his novel, is an avowed anarchist, but also an agent provocateur for the thinly-disguised Russian embassy in London. His controller, Mr Vladimir, tasks him with blowing up the Greenwich Observatory. The cast includes the Professor, a specialist in infernal machines who at all times carries a bomb in readiness for a suicide attack. Verloc was a precursor to the anti-hero of the modern novel.

4. The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan (1915)
The John Buchan Way is a lovely undulating walk alongside the Tweed Valley. Don't let it fool you. The action in this most Scottish of thrillers takes place further west, in the remote heatherlands of Galloway. Richard Hannay pursues the Black Stone spy ring even as he is being hunted down by German spies and misguided policemen. "The Presbyterian Cavalier" to his biographer Andrew Lownie, Buchan is a little too hot in his pursuit of sinners. His account was at odds with MI5's contemporary claim that it had mopped up all German spies at the start of the war. But why let history get in the way of a good read?

5. Ashenden: Or the British Agent by W Somerset Maugham (1928)
Maugham was already an established novelist when a senior intelligence figure dropped in at his Long Island residence. Would he care for a little patriotic adventure? Maugham signed up to serve in Switzerland then revolutionary Russia, where he narrowly escaped extermination by the Bolsheviks. With mind-boggling audacity, he decided that the best cover for his spying would be that he was writing a series of short stories about spies. Maugham becomes Ashenden in the rather authentic published work. Ashenden rebukes his uncouth controller, "In my youth I was always taught that you should take a woman by the waist and a bottle by the neck".

6. The Informer by Liam O'Flaherty (1925)
O'Flaherty declares in this novel: "Informer! A horror to be understood fully only by an Irish mind". The book reminds us that espionage is not limited to international intrigue. Gypo Nolan, O'Flaherty's protagonist, informs on a left-wing friend in the Irish civil war for the paltry sum of £20. An unintelligent man, he is pitilessly hunted down by the intellectual Commandant Dan Gallagher. The Informer occupies a position of iconic significance in Irish literature.

7. Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett (1929)
"We had another drink". One has escaped in a single bound the Wee Free manse that spawned John Buchan. One enters instead the amoral realm of a master of the short sentence not to mention short words like "moll". Hammett was the pioneer of the "hardboiled" detective novel. Earlier, until he left in disgust at their labour espionage work and became a communist, he worked for the Pinkerton detective agency. Red Harvest is a spy's repentance. Hammett's Continental Op (a thinly disguised Pinkerton operative) arrives in Personville, aka Poisonville, a town in the American West. Mining capitalist Elihu Wilsson owns it in every respect until his revolutionary workers go on strike. Wilsson introduces professional strikebreakers and one murder follows another, 20 of them committed by the Op himself.

8. Wanderer by Sterling Hayden (1963)
At least in being so well written, this is a novel masquerading as autobiography. Hayden served with the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the US wartime intelligence agency. Postwar he was a movie actor, with roles in The Ashphalt Jungle and Dr Strangelove. In his Hollywood years he flirted with communism when it was in vogue; then betrayed his comrades under McCarthyism; then denounced McCarthyism when the sheep turned in that direction. It's all in his account, and he's honest about his weakness. And about others' frailties. In Cairo where the Americans wanted to ape the British, OSS headquarters was "a bastard version of the Taj Mahal". But the Brits guarded their patch: "a secretary entered with tea – which made it quite clear that this was a British Theatre of War".



9. The Quiet American by Graham Greene (1955)
Greene dismissed his own spy fiction as "entertainment". He wanted us to admire The Power and the Glory not The Quiet American. Be that as it may, The Quiet American had insight into the frailties of the early 1950s CIA and the untenability of US intervention in Vietnam. Alden Pyle, its protagonist, is a recognisable prototype of the Ivy League "best and brightest" who got America stuck in a Southeast Asian quagmire. Pyle jousts with his worldly and tolerant British counterpart over the delectable Phuong. Enter the US economic attaché "who keeps his friends because he uses the right deodorants".




10. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy by John le Carré (1974)
The former CIA Inspector General, Fred Hitz, sees Tinker as underscoring "the underlying distaste, widely felt in the SIS [MI6], for the American role in intelligence-gathering" in the early Cold War. In that sense, Le Carré had his finger on the dying pulse of the special intelligence relationship. Tinker is my least original selection as most readers or moviegoers will know about George Smiley's struggle with Moscow's presiding intelligence genius Karla. "Treason is very much a matter of habit, Smiley decided".

THE GUARDIAN

Thursday, August 2, 2018

The 10 best… closing lines of books


James Joyce

The 10 best… closing lines of books

The most memorable literary payoffs, from the chilling to the poetic

Robert McCrum
Sunday 29 July 2012




The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

Fitzgerald hypnotises successive generations of readers with this tale. Nick Carraway's signing off after the death of Gatsby is my favourite last line in the Anglo-American tradition – resonant, memorable and profound. It hovers between poetry and the vernacular and is the magnificent chord, in a minor key, which brings this 20th-century masterpiece to a close. Somehow, it sums up the novel completely, in tone as much as meaning, while giving the reader a way out into the drabber, duller world of everyday reality.


Ulysses by James Joyce

"I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another… then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes."

Joyce is the master of the closing line and this is his most famous and most suggestive. Compare it with the end of The Dead, his short story that concludes Dubliners: "His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."


Middlemarch by George Eliot

"But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."

Middlemarch is many readers' favourite Eliot novel, with so many quotable passages. This passage is almost a credo – a lovely, valedictory celebration of Dorothea's quiet life, after she has renounced Casaubon's fortune and confessed her love for Ladislaw.



Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

"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."

Conrad's merciless short novel (fewer than 40,000 words) opens on the Thames and ends there, too. The last line of Marlowe's astounding confession is an admission of his complicity in the terrible events he has just described as a reluctant witness. It also executes a highly effective narrative diminuendo in an extraordinary fictional nightmare. Compare George Orwell's chilling return to the status quo in another nightmare, Nineteen Eighty Four: "He loved Big Brother."



The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

"But I reckon I got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally she's going to adopt me and sivilize me and I can't stand it. I been there before." 

This is a heartbreaker. Twain rounds off his masterpiece by saying that Huck Finn is fated, like all Americans, to an incessant quest for the challenge of the frontier. For sheer teenage disaffection, it's matched by the last line ofCatcher in the Rye: "Don't tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody." And also from the US, let's not forget Margaret Mitchell's ending to Gone With the Wind: "After all, tomorrow is another day." Pure hokum, like the novel.


To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

"Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigue, I have had my vision." 

And she has. Lily's closing words complete the circle of consciousness.Virginia Woolf was good at last lines and was always a decisive closer. Mrs Dalloway, whose first line famously has Woolf's protagonist buying the flowers herself, ends with: "It is Clarissa, he said. For there she was." That's the perfect conclusion, to a nervy climax, nailed in nine words.


Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

"The knife came down, missing him by inches, and he took off." 

The spirit of Bugs Bunny inspires the finale of Yossarian's adventures with 256th Squadron. It's the moment in which Yossarian, who has been in thrall to Catch-22 throughout, finally breaks away. Yossarian has come to realise that Catch-22 does not actually exist, but because the powers that be claim it does, and the world believes it does, it nevertheless has potent effects. Indeed, because it does not exist, there is no way it can be repealed, undone, overthrown, or denounced. But here, finally, he can become free.


Speak Memory by Vladimir Nabokov

"There, in front of us, where a broken row of houses stood between us and the harbour, and where the eye encountered all sorts of stratagems, such as pale-blue and pink underwear cakewalking on a clothesline, or a lady's bicycle and a striped cat oddly sharing a rudimentary balcony of cast iron, it was most satisfying to make out among the jumbled angles of roofs and walls, a splendid ship's funnel, showing from behind the clothesline as something in a scrambled picture – Find What the Sailor Has

A brilliant, and moving, mixture of perception and reality. Contrast the incoherent end of William Burroughs's Naked Lunch, "No got … C'lom Fliday."



Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

"I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath, and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth."

Brontë's masterpiece is often cited for its gothic morbidity and intoxicating romantic darkness, but here – stepping back from the tragedy of Heathcliff and Catherine – the novel displays an acute evocation of Yorkshire combined with memorable poetic grandeur. This note of redemption promises a better future in the union of Cathy and Hareton.



The Tale of Samuel Whiskers by Beatrix Potter

"But Tom Kitten has always been afraid of a rat; he never durst face anything bigger than – A Mouse."

Children's books should not be overlooked. Potter earns her slot with this chilling, but playful, ending to a spine-tingler by a writer who loved to explore the world of juvenile suspense. Perhaps in honour of the late Maurice Sendak we should also mention "And it was still warm", the payoff to Where the Wild Things Are. And JK Rowling has a well-earned closer toHarry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: "The scar had not pained Harry for 19 years. All was well."