Heart of Darkness - The Original Classic Edition

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Dark allegory describes the narrators journey up the Congo River and his meeting with, and fascination by, Mr. Kurtz, a mysterious personage who dominates the unruly inhabitants of the region. Masterly blend of adventure, character development, psychological penetration. Considered by many Conrads finest, most enigmatic story. This is a high quality book of the original classic edition. This is a freshly published edition of this culturally important work, which is now, at last, again available to you. Enjoy this classic work. These few paragraphs distill the contents and give you a quick look inside: We looked on, waiting patiently?there was nothing else to do till the end of the flood, but it was only after a long silence, when he said, in a hesitating voice, I suppose you fellows remember I did once turn fresh-water sailor for a bit, that we knew we were fated, before the ebb began to run, to hear about one of Marlows inconclusive experiences. I dont want to bother you much with what happened to me personally, he began, showing in this remark the weakness of many tellers of tales who seem so often unaware of what their audience would best like to hear, yet to understand the effect of it on me you ought to know how I got out there, what I saw, how I went up that river to the place where I first met the poor chap. ...At that time there were many blank spaces on the earth, and when I saw one that looked particularly inviting on a map (but they all look that) I would put my finger on it and say, When I grow up I will go there. ...In the course of these confidences it became quite plain to me I had been represented to the wife of the high dignitary, and goodness knows to how many more people besides, as an exceptional and gifted creature?a piece of good fortune for the Company?a man you dont get hold of every day. ...We called at some more places with farcical names, where the merry dance of death and trade goes on in a still and earthy atmosphere as of an overheated catacomb, all along the formless coast bordered by dangerous surf, as if Nature herself had tried to ward off intruders, in and out of rivers, streams of death in life, whose banks were rotting into mud, whose waters, thickened into slime, invaded the contorted mangroves, that seemed to writhe at us in the extremity of an impotent despair.