Nostromo (Wordsworth Classics) (Wordsworth Collection)

Nostromo is one of Joseph Conrad's longer novels, and one in which he doesn't make use of his typical "undependable narrator." Instead, the tale is told by an omniscient narrator. That is, I think, a source of weakness. The narrator wants to tell too much, wants to analyze too much, describes too much. In other words, the book is too long and too diffuse. It has too many themes: notions of human behavior and motivation, insights into the nature of political brutality and corruption, counter-insights into the virtues of simple working people and their loyalties, a flaming love story, a burned-out love story, and a tale of the temptation and 'fall' of the everyman Nostromo. Conrad expounds the ideals of the "blancos" - the upper-class globalizing developers - who are the central characters of the novel with complete sympathy, and yet he also tosses in the rhetoric of the rebels, called 'liberals' although in normal economic terms the blancos are the liberals. The n-word is thrown at these peasants and poor folk rather freely, but underneath Conrad's commitment to the interests of his 'blanco' hero, one can detect a strong taint of revolutionary sympathy for the underdogs. I wish it were clear that Conrad was deliberately undercutting the 'victory' of the progressive classes by revealing the injustices and exploitations they commit to the working classes, but it's not so clear. One has to suspect Conrad of wanting to have it both ways, to "have his cake and eat it too." Nonetheless, I can't imagine NOT enjoying such a vivid, picturesque, risk-taking novel. It's full of lusty humor and sardonic wit. It has glorious descriptions of the tropical sights and sounds of the imaginary Latin American country where the story happens. It has a cast of powerful and believable characters. I can't conceive of giving any Conrad novels less than five stars when police thrillers and Avon romances get rave reviews. Nostromo is not close to Conrad's best novel, but even Conrad's weakest novels are rich concoctions of ideas and action. If you've read "Under Western Eyes" - Conrad's finest social/political novel - you might well want to read Nostromo in particular, in that it expands and complicates Conrad's perceptions of the abuse of authority.

Often regarded as Conrad's masterwork, Nostromo is also Conrad's darkest novel, filled with betrayals at all levels and offering little hope for man's redemption. A novel of huge scope and political intrigue, it is also a novel in which no character actually wins. All must accept the ironies which fate has dealt them. Setting the novel in the imaginary South American country of Costaguana, the story centers around a silver mine in the mountains outside of the capital, Sulaco, vividly depicting its allure and the price each character pays for its success. When Charles Gould, returns from England to claim and reopen the rich silver mine he has inherited from his father, he has good intentions-- to provide jobs for the peasants and contribute to the economy of the town at the same time that he also profits. Soon, however, he becomes obsessed with wealth and power, and as the political climate gets hotter, he must pay off government officials, bandits, the church, and various armed revolutionaries to be able to work. Each of these groups is vividly depicted as working for its own ends and not for the good of the people, and with their goals focused on the real world, these characters have no self-awareness, nor do they develop it during the novel. In contrast to these "unrealized" humans, Conrad presents several characters who develop some self-awareness through their experiences. Nostromo, a local legend, is a man of principle who has always kept his word. Martin Decoud, a newspaper man, is a nihilist who has editorialized against the revolution, though he has yet to test himself. Dr. Monygham, captured during a past revolution, broke under torture, and is now seeking absolution by fighting against this revolution. And the good and long-suffering wife of Charles Gould, Dona Emilia, spends her time helping others. When Nostromo agrees to protect a load of silver from revolutionaries by taking it out to sea, Conrad provides a bleak commentary on idealism and human nature. The conclusion, which includes a love story that feels tacked on, reveals Conrad's darkest self and offers little hope of change and even less hope for man's redemption. Rich in atmosphere, vibrant in description, filled with characters representing all walks of life and philosophy, and set in a country where revolution is a way of life, the novel is full of dark portents and bleak political outcomes. Mary Whipple

Joseph Conrad is one of the most effortlessly cosmopolitan writers in the English language, and "Nostromo" finds him in a fictitious South American country called Costaguana whose mountains are a bountiful resource of silver. And Conrad is probably the only writer who can transform his novel's hero from an all-around tough guy to a heroic savior to a sneaky thief to a tragic victim of mistaken identity through plausible twists of fate without ever letting the story fall into disarray. The main action of the novel takes place towards the end of the nineteenth century in a town called Sulaco, which is the base of operations for the San Tome silver mine up in the nearby mountains. The administrator of the mine is an Englishman named Charles Gould, whose primary challenge is to find American and European speculators to invest money to keep the mine in business. The other problem he faces is a civil war between the present government and a faction of rebels led by a general named Montero. Gould's wife Emilia is a prominent figure in town, an elegant matron with a philanthropic attitude towards the downtrodden native mine workers and townspeople. The hero, Nostromo, is an Italian sailor who settled in Costaguana for more lucrative work and is now in charge of keeping the dockworkers -- the "cargadores" -- in line. When Montero's troops invade Sulaco, Nostromo and Martin Decoud, an aristocratic Frenchman who runs Sulaco's newspaper, escape on a boat with the town's silver treasury to protect it from the marauders. Their boat is sideswiped and damaged by a ship commanded by a rebel colonel named Sotillo, and they are forced to moor on a nearby island and bury the treasure there. This island is the future site of a lighthouse to be maintained by the Violas, an Italian family whose patriarch, Giorgio, once supported Garibaldi and still reveres the man like a deity. There is obviously much more to the plot, too much to reveal in this review, and there are many additional important characters, but these are best left for the potential reader to discover.Narratively, Conrad keeps the story moving with plenty of action and suspense combined with the typical excellence of his prose. Structurally, though, is how Conrad's novel intrigues its reader: He frequently shifts viewpoints, in both place and time, to give the effect of different perspectives of both the immediate events and the long-term history of Sulaco. Contemporary reviewers of the novel apparently saw this technique as an artistic flaw; in retrospect, it seems well ahead of its time.Thematically, the novel presents a debate about the benefits and problems of imperialism and colonization, using Costaguano as a model colony and the Gould Concession as model imperialists. When Sotillo accuses foreigners of robbing his country of its wealth, Gould suggests to him that a country's resources (i.e., Costaguana's silver) can be used as an asset only from the cooperation of the native workers

The crisis in Somalia, the genocide in Rwanda, why do so many well-intentioned development assistance efforts fail so miserably? As America has been drawn in yet another asymmetric conflict with a collapsed state and Western governments are already discussing ways to implement democracy in order to prevent the conflict from escalating Conrad's timeless tale of idealism and greed suggests that changing the world is an almost impossible task. Many articulate magazine articles or specialized books have attempted to explain how a series favorable trade, free markets and respect for human rights can result in long term positive change. Yet, despite the abundance of information we're still left wondering; logical arguments and historical accounts have proved insufficient in satisfying the need to understand why the development process is so complicated. Although written in 1904, Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard represents Conrad's ultimate opinion of the world. It's a long book, 465 pages in the Penguin Classic edition, but it's rich in observations on human nature as well as Conrad's typical lively landscape descriptions. In the former regard, Nostromo is superior to Conrad's more famous novel Heart of Darkness as he tells the story of very believable characters that are familiar to most readers.

For the first 150 or so pages of Nostromo, there were several times when I almost quit. The amount of detail about the political and social organization of Conrad's imaginary country was so dry and technical that I felt like I was reading an encyclopedia. But, the strangest thing happened on about page 151. . . I started to get into the book! Then, I couldn't stop. In retrospect, I believe that the exposition at the beginning of the novel could have been dispersed throughout the narrative, rather than shoving it down the reader's mouth at the beginning.Nevertheless, Nostromo is a stunning and extremely pessimistic examination of the "heart of darkness" within all humans. Virtually all the characters are driven by self-interest and greed, and even our "hero" (Nostromo), is at times bestial and self-involved. But, I still loved this book! Joseph Conrad is like the literary equivalent of Paul Verhoeven- an extremely bitter artist whose dark view of the world serves to shed light on the audience. I know it sounds strange, but I mean exactly what I say.