Author Archives: Steve

Joseph Conrad

I don’t know how long this has been up but a hyper-concordance to Joseph Conrad and many other writers can be found here. If you’re unfamiliar with such a thing, the concordance is a searchable text. I typed in the word “unreal” in the query field for Heart of Darkness to nice results. Type in “Kurtz” or “hollow” and see what happens.

More on Unity

In the Winter 2004 Explicator, Tenrence Bowers writes

Similarly, Heart of Darkness invites us to contemplate the moral
structure of the world created by European imperialism. First, we
quickly perceive that world to be a moral sham. European imperialism is
supposed to bring technology, the rule of law, enlightened forms of
government, and other fruits of Western civilization to Africa, but as
the products of Western know-how that Marlow finds in Africa
indicate–the “vast artificial hole” that has no purpose, the “broken”
drainage–pipes, the overturned railway-truck without a railway, the
sunken steamboat-the imperial project has simply created a junkyard
while robbing Africa of its riches. As Marlow says in reference to
Roman imperialism, but which, we learn, also applies to European
imperialism, “it was just robbery […] on a great scale […]” (9).

Unification

How deep does the concept of unity go in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness? Since Marlow tells a story of crossing, of penetration, then he also tells a story of bordered spatial conditions as movement from place to place, distinct space to distinct space, time to time. Even the text has borders

The land is made to speak. To whisper, to entice. Is this the sublime? “‘This one,’” Marlow says, “‘was almost featureless, as if still in the making, with an aspect of monotonous grimness.’” All maps have borders, as does experience, edges that give contour to perceived space. But borders also have to be crossed, the expansive space they mark off penetrated. Recall that earlier the narrator has already indicated that Marlow’s stories are “inconclusive” (1961), their edges difficult to determine.

The spaces, of course, can be conceived as concepts: light and dark, old and new, youth and age, forest and city.

Marlow maps his experiences into the heart of darkness and with Kurtz with story, inviting these unified images as aspects of passage. But can light and dark also be seen in terms of a continuum, like time or duration or change, in the story? One, in other words, doesn’t work well without the other in Heart of Darkness. Light is dependent on darkness, just as change is required to mark the passage of time.

If I saw the world as the same always, as a seamless set of experiences (which is impossible), then could I learn anything or grow as a human being, that is acquire a sense of personal history and future projection: Blake’s bard? This may be too much of a rhetorical question. But the notion recalls what was brought up in class: a multidimensional space whose x axis describes the present geographical moment, the y axis telling the story of change over time. A z axis would simply result from tilting the space such that any time or any cooresponding point on the graph could be presented either as time or as space or both: i.e., spime. Rather than present the past as a circle, the present as another, each overlapping, the axis graph allows for links to specific events in time and compared with others.

Somewhere lower on the y axis live the ancient Romans who rode the Thames just as modern sailors do. The new Romans can be pointed to a little higher, space intersecting with time. With a slight tilt, one replaces the space of the other. Historical unification.

Girls and Boys

S, my 4 1/2 year old son, pretends to be a 16 year old girl. And I’m often cast as her brother, Franck.

“Is Franck still at work?” he’ll ask my wife.

“Yes,” she says.

This girl is tough, good at counting, and is fearless, willing to leap through windy tunnels to solve problems, do the right thing, and risk her health for a good cause.

I ask S, “Would you like to go to Mars some day?”

“Kya would,” my son responds.

“She would like to live on Mars?”

“It’s just pretend, Franck,” my son tells me.

Otto and Passion

Susan Gibb has a passion for Otto

Lord knows I stand in my shop at the worktable for long periods of time
so it shouldn’t have bothered me, but this afternoon working at a paper
cutter for two hours I was near crying with the pain.  I even tried to
stand (as I do while washing dishes) in the crane position which
usually helps (I am swaybacked) but it was impossible since the
repetitive back and forth movement of the picking up, sliding in,
slicing, sticking together and boxing undid my knotted stance within
the first moments, and I almost fell on my ass.

Characters

This weekend S and I caught the features DVD of HBO’s production of Deadwood, which we’ve been enjoying via Netflix. The conversation between creator and writer David Milch and Kieth Carradine was particularly fresh and insightful: two very smart guys talking about order, history, writing, character, and the creative process.

Milch and Carradine 1) are passionate in their work 2) know what they’re talking about 3) have a sense of humor 4) are sensitive to and seriously smart about a wide range of subjects: Victorian literature, psychology, history, politics, linguistics, religion, and image making. Deadwood’s excellence comes from Milch’s concentration and devotion to developing characters, which you can feel in the experience of the drama, hear in the crack dialogue, and react to as tensions unfold organically.

It was simply nice to see “smart,” textured, and uncontrived for a change. This is a marked difference between the podcasts of the writers of Battlestar Galactica, whose concentration has now become all about slavery to format and character and story incoherence.BG’s first year was tight, sometimes brilliant, and spellbinding. In the second season, the characters forgot who they were and are now experiencing things they should not be doing or thinking.

Character is core, whatever the format, film or hypertext.