Upon first arriving in the Congo, Marlow, the narrator of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, discovers that the steamship meant to be his mode of travel is disabled. After obtaining the necessary tools and repair ing it, he sets off on his journey to retrieve Kurtz. Marlow finds the climate oppressive: “Going up that river . . . The air was warm, thick, heavy, sluggish. There was no joy in the brilliance of sunshine.” 1 As the steamship nears Kurtz’s camp, Marlow is advised by the manager to set anchor for one last night before proceeding up the final part of the river. The crew spends the night onboard and awakens at dawn, a scene which Marlow describes in a short passage rife with climatic imagery: When the sun rose there was a white fog, very warm and clammy, and more blinding than the night. It did not shift or drive; it was just there, standing all round you like something solid. At eight or nine, perhaps, it lifted as a shutter lifts. We had a glimpse of the towering multitude of trees, of the immense matted jungle, with the blazing little ball of the sun hanging over it—all perfectly still—and then the white shutter came down again, smoothly, as if gliding into greased grooves. (67-68) In Conrad in the Nineteenth Century, Ian Watt links the “persistent image” of “mist or haze” in Conrad’s work to his impressionistic writing style. As evidence, Watt cites Conrad’s warning that “Marlow’s tale will be not centered on, but surrounded by, its meaning; and this meaning will be only as fitfully and tenuously visible as a hitherto unnoticed presence of dust particles and water vapour.” 2 Watt also argues that Conrad presents the world around his narrators filtered
Read full abstract