Heart of Darkness — Summary

Char­lie Mar­low nar­rates his jour­ney up the Con­go Riv­er into Africa’s heart, reflect­ing a jour­ney into the human soul’s dark recess­es dur­ing the last days of Euro­pean colo­nial­ism. As cap­tain of a dilap­i­dat­ed steam­er for a Bel­gian com­pa­ny, he seeks Mr. Kurtz, a charis­mat­ic and suc­cess­ful ivory trad­er liv­ing far upriv­er. Mar­low’s encoun­ters with Kurtz and the harsh real­i­ties of colo­nial exploita­tion pro­found­ly impact him. Joseph Con­rad vivid­ly por­trays the wilder­ness and the bru­tal­i­ty of colo­nial­ism, jux­ta­pos­ing these against the sto­ry’s sym­bol­ic depth to expose the dark aspects of human nature and cri­tique Euro­pean domin­ion over Africa.

 

Take-Aways

• “Heart of Dark­ness,” an ear­ly 20th-cen­tu­ry mod­ernist nov­el, explores the African con­ti­nent and the human soul.
• Char­lie Mar­low’s quest up the Con­go Riv­er to find Kurtz, a trad­er who inflicts ter­ror on Africans, show­cas­es the trans­for­ma­tive pow­er of extreme con­di­tions on humans.
• Set dur­ing Bel­gian Con­go’s rule, the nov­el cri­tiques Euro­pean colo­nial­ism and has sparked debate over its por­tray­al of native Africans.
• Based on Con­rad’s near­ly 20 years at sea, includ­ing time in the Congo.
• Con­rad’s work was lat­er adapt­ed into the film “Apoc­a­lypse Now” by Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la, set dur­ing the Viet­nam War.

Summary: Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

Reflections and Revelations on the Thames

Aboard “The Nel­lie” by the Thames’ edge, just out­side Lon­don, a group of five sea­soned mariners finds repose, admir­ing the evening’s descent. Among them, Char­lie Mar­low posi­tions him­self slight­ly apart. The serene vista along the river­bank prompts the nar­ra­tor, whose name we do not learn, to reflect on the mar­itime his­to­ry of Britain. Mar­low breaks the peace­ful tran­quil­li­ty dur­ing this con­tem­pla­tion, remark­ing, “This land, too, was once unchart­ed dark­ness.” He elab­o­rates on this notion by recount­ing the Roman encounter with Britain, a land where Lon­don now thrives, which was once an untamed wilder­ness demand­ing con­quest and sub­se­quent sub­ju­ga­tion. Spurred by these reflec­tions, Mar­low is com­pelled to share a nar­ra­tive from his voy­ages. Rec­og­niz­ing the earnest­ness and the weight of Mar­low’s sto­ry, his com­pan­ions eager­ly gath­er to listen.

Quest for the Unknown

From a young age, maps cap­ti­vat­ed Mar­low, par­tic­u­lar­ly those areas marked by unchart­ed ter­ri­to­ries. This ear­ly curios­i­ty pro­pelled him to join a trad­ing com­pa­ny, where he even­tu­al­ly became the steam­boat’s cap­tain, nav­i­gat­ing the waters of the Far East for sev­er­al years. Upon his return to Lon­don, Mar­low sought a new ven­ture but found no imme­di­ate oppor­tu­ni­ty. Despite the once-blank spaces of Africa now being shad­ed with tales of dark­ness, his fas­ci­na­tion remained undi­min­ished. This allure moti­vat­ed Mar­low to seek employ­ment with a Bel­gian com­merce com­pa­ny along the Con­go Riv­er. With assis­tance from his aunt, he secured a posi­tion as cap­tain on a steam­boat des­tined to voy­age into the Con­go’s depths. This oppor­tu­ni­ty arose from the com­pa­ny’s press­ing need to replace their pre­vi­ous cap­tain, a Dan­ish man named Fresleven. Known for his mild man­ner, Fresleven’s life was trag­i­cal­ly cut short by the natives fol­low­ing an alter­ca­tion over a triv­ial mis­un­der­stand­ing involv­ing two hens, which esca­lat­ed when he assault­ed the vil­lage chief with a stick.

Interview in Brussels

Upon arriv­ing at the impos­ing head­quar­ters of the Bel­gian trad­ing com­pa­ny in Brus­sels, Mar­low is greet­ed in the wait­ing room by two women engrossed in their knit­ting, cast­ing eval­u­a­tive glances at new­com­ers with a blend of detach­ment and know­ing antic­i­pa­tion. Reflect­ing on his expe­ri­ences, Mar­low would lat­er regard these women as sym­bol­ic sen­tinels at the thresh­old of an impend­ing dark­ness. A white-haired sec­re­tary beck­ons Mar­low into the office to meet the com­pa­ny direc­tor, who shakes Mar­low’s hand and sends him on his way with just a few mum­bled words. A sub­se­quent med­ical eval­u­a­tion by the com­pa­ny’s doc­tor includes an unusu­al request to mea­sure Mar­low’s head, pur­port­ed­ly to fur­ther a study on the psy­cho­log­i­cal effects of colo­nial trade on agents.

In a final farewell, Mar­low’s aunt reveals her roman­ti­cized per­cep­tion of his upcom­ing role, laud­ing him as a bear­er of enlight­en­ment to the unac­quaint­ed, effec­tive­ly over­look­ing his cau­tious hints about the com­pa­ny’s true prof­it-dri­ven motives. This inter­ac­tion under­lines a stark con­trast between naive ide­al­ism and the harsh real­i­ties of colo­nial exploita­tion that Mar­low is about to confront.

The Way to the Station

Mar­low embarks on a poignant voy­age to Africa aboard a French steam­er, a jour­ney marked by a pro­found dis­il­lu­sion­ment and the oppres­sive aura of the untamed wilder­ness that flanks the coast­line. This dual sense of allure and revul­sion grips Mar­low as he observes the dense jun­gle. Dur­ing the pas­sage, the death of a fel­low pas­sen­ger goes almost unno­ticed, under­scor­ing the jour­ney’s grim real­i­ty. The crew engages in a seem­ing­ly futile exchange with a French war­ship blind­ly bom­bard­ing the jun­gle, hint­ing at the des­per­a­tion and dis­ease plagu­ing those within.

A month lat­er, upon reach­ing the Con­go Riv­er delta, Mar­low begins his ascent of the riv­er on a small­er ves­sel, head­ed for a remote sta­tion of the Bel­gian trad­ing firm. The des­o­la­tion he encoun­ters there invokes in him a vision of infer­no: he wit­ness­es African labor­ers, shack­led and bro­ken, con­struct­ing rail­way tracks amidst decay­ing indus­tri­al debris, a sight that hor­ri­fies him. Mar­low reflects on the colo­nial enter­prise’s bru­tal core, stripped of its veneer of civ­i­liza­tion­al progress.

“The con­quest of the Earth, which most­ly means tak­ing it away from those who have a dif­fer­ent com­plex­ion or slight­ly flat­ter noses than our­selves, is not a pret­ty thing when you look into it too much.”

His arrival at the sta­tion is met with a jar­ring con­trast: the sta­tion’s chief accoun­tant, metic­u­lous­ly dressed, main­tains a facade of civil­i­ty amid chaos, impress­ing Mar­low. It is through the accoun­tant that Mar­low first learns of Mr. Kurtz, an agent of unpar­al­leled suc­cess in the ivory trade sta­tioned deep with­in the jun­gle. Dri­ven by a new­found curios­i­ty, Mar­low sets off on a demand­ing trek towards the cen­tral sta­tion, accom­pa­nied by a car­a­van of six­ty porters. Under the swel­ter­ing heat through desert­ed vil­lages, the harsh jour­ney tests the lim­its of Mar­low and his com­pan­ions, par­tic­u­lar­ly a prof­it-seek­ing, ill-suit­ed com­pan­ion who fre­quent­ly col­laps­es from exhaus­tion. After an ardu­ous two-week jour­ney, they final­ly reach their des­ti­na­tion, the Cen­tral Sta­tion, bring­ing Mar­low one step clos­er to the elu­sive Mr. Kurtz.

At the Central Station

Upon arriv­ing at the Cen­tral Sta­tion, Mar­low dis­cov­ers his steam­er sub­merged. The sta­tion’s man­ag­er, a mer­chant who incites unease rather than admi­ra­tion or respect in Mar­low, shares trou­bling rumors of Kurtz’s out­post fac­ing dan­ger. Despite their attempts to nav­i­gate upriv­er in Mar­low’s ves­sel, it runs aground three hours into the expe­di­tion. Faced with the need for repairs, Mar­low real­izes the absence of essen­tial mate­ri­als. Over his three-month stay, Mar­low befriends an ambi­tious aris­to­crat who is con­vinced that Mar­low’s Euro­pean con­nec­tions could bol­ster his aspi­ra­tions. In the aris­to­crat’s quar­ters, Mar­low encoun­ters a strik­ing oil paint­ing by Kurtz, depict­ing a veiled woman with a torch, a piece Kurtz cre­at­ed dur­ing his wait at the sta­tion. The aris­to­crat por­trays Kurtz as a gift­ed indi­vid­ual with a deep-seat­ed eth­i­cal pur­pose in Africa, a per­cep­tion that seem­ing­ly intim­i­dates both him and the man­ag­er. The man­ager’s uncle lat­er arrives lead­ing a car­a­van mock­ing­ly named the “Eldo­ra­do Explor­ing Expe­di­tion,” reveal­ing their exploita­tive motives akin to those of the sta­tion’s oth­er agents.

“They were all wait­ing – all the six­teen or twen­ty pil­grims of them – for some­thing, and upon my word, it did not seem an uncon­ge­nial occu­pa­tion, from the way they took it, though the only thing that ever came to them was dis­ease – as far as I could see.”

While aboard his par­tial­ly sub­merged steam­er, Mar­low eaves­drops on a con­ver­sa­tion between the man­ag­er and his uncle about Kurtz. The pair are dis­turbed by Kurtz’s prin­ci­pled stand and sig­nif­i­cant ivory con­tri­bu­tions. With no direct com­mu­ni­ca­tion from Kurtz in nine months and only whis­pers of his dete­ri­o­rat­ing health cir­cu­lat­ing, the man­ag­er and his uncle silent­ly hope the harsh envi­ron­ment might final­ly dimin­ish Kurtz’s influence.

Upriver

Upriv­er, Mar­low com­pletes the steam­er’s repairs and embarks on the final leg to Kurtz’s sta­tion, accom­pa­nied by the man­ag­er, sev­er­al agents, and a crew of can­ni­bals from deep with­in the inte­ri­or. Despite their numer­i­cal advan­tage, these natives do not pose a threat to Mar­low and his crew. Nav­i­gat­ing the slug­gish riv­er is fraught with per­il, leav­ing Mar­low in con­stant appre­hen­sion about poten­tial mechan­i­cal fail­ures. The adja­cent jun­gle exudes an omi­nous silence, height­en­ing their sense of unease. Occa­sion­al­ly, they observe indige­nous peo­ple along the shore, prompt­ing Mar­low to con­tem­plate the con­trast and par­al­lels between them and the self-pro­claimed “supe­ri­or” white men.

Their jour­ney leads them to a desert­ed hut, where they dis­cov­er a metic­u­lous­ly arranged stack of fire­wood and a sign read­ing: “Wood for you. Hur­ry up. Approach cau­tious­ly.” Inside, Mar­low finds a sea­man­ship man­u­al, its pages well-thumbed and anno­tat­ed in what appears to be code. He decides to take the book. Approach­ing the Inner Sta­tion, a dense fog ren­ders nav­i­ga­tion impossible.

“The liv­ing trees, lashed togeth­er by the creep­ers and every liv­ing bush of the under­growth, might have been changed into stone, even to the slen­der­est twig, to the light­est leaf. It was not sleep – it seemed unnat­ur­al, like a trance state.”

A sud­den cry dis­rupts the silence, prompt­ing the crew to pre­pare for an assault. After a tense two-hour wait, the fog lifts, and they pro­ceed. Enter­ing a nar­row chan­nel to the sta­tion, Mar­low wit­ness­es two sailors abrupt­ly cease their duties. Short­ly after, an ambush ensues, silent­ly ini­ti­at­ed by pro­jec­tiles that pierce the air. The con­flict results in the fatal spear­ing of the black helms­man. Mar­low’s use of the steam whis­tle ulti­mate­ly repels the attack­ers. By dis­card­ing his helms­man­’s body into the riv­er, Mar­low faces shocked reac­tions from both his crew and the can­ni­bals. With cau­tious nav­i­ga­tion, he push­es for­ward, anx­ious about the pos­si­bil­i­ty of arriv­ing too late to encounter Kurtz.

The Inner Station

As the par­ty approach­es the sta­tion, they are met by a young Russ­ian man in har­le­quin-like attire, who reveals him­self as a fer­vent admir­er of Kurtz. He stum­bled upon Kurtz’s sta­tion by acci­dent and has since devot­ed him­self to assist­ing Kurtz, even nurs­ing him through two seri­ous ill­ness­es. Despite the com­plex­i­ty of their rela­tion­ship, marked ini­tial­ly by Kurtz’s threat­en­ing demand for ivory, the Rus­sians chose to remain, deeply influ­enced by Kurtz’s expan­sive talks on var­i­ous subjects.

“ ‘Don’t you talk with Mr. Kurtz?’ I said. ‘You don’t talk with that man – you lis­ten to him,’ he exclaimed with severe exaltation.”

From the Russ­ian, Mar­low dis­cov­ers that Kurtz has used intim­i­da­tion and force to make the natives fear him. They see him as a god-like fig­ure. As he gets clos­er to the sta­tion, Mar­low real­izes that what he ini­tial­ly took for wood­en orna­ments on the fence poles around the build­ing are human skulls. A group of natives comes toward the shore, car­ry­ing Kurtz on a stretch­er. He is a tall man, but his ill­ness has left him piti­ful and weak. How­ev­er, when natives try to pre­vent him from being car­ried on board the steam­er, the sound of his voice is enough to stop them.

The Horror

Kurtz and the Russ­ian embark on the steam­er while the natives, includ­ing a beau­ti­ful­ly adorned woman, gath­er at the shore. This woman, a sig­nif­i­cant fig­ure in Kurtz’s life, watch­es as they depart. The Russ­ian shares with Mar­low that Kurtz orches­trat­ed the steam­er’s attack, fear­ing his removal from his domain. Opt­ing to leave due to poten­tial reper­cus­sions for his involve­ment, the Russ­ian implores Mar­low to pro­tect Kurtz’s lega­cy by with­hold­ing the true nature of these events.

In the mid­dle of the night, Mar­low dis­cov­ers that Kurtz has dis­ap­peared. He fol­lows Kurtz’s trail in the high grass by crawl­ing on all fours and finds him a short dis­tance from the natives’ camp. Kurtz tells Mar­low that he wants to return to fin­ish his “immense plans”. Mar­low con­vinces him to come back to the steam­er. When the ship sets to leave the next day, the natives gath­er at the shore. The beau­ti­ful woman appears again and shouts, and the oth­er natives join in. Kurtz, who clear­ly under­stands what they are say­ing, lies on his bed, express­ing long­ing and hate. Mar­low blows the steam whis­tle a few times, and the natives scat­ter in fear – all except the woman, who remains unflinch­ing at the shore. On the return jour­ney, Kurtz spends hours recount­ing his achieve­ments and plans for rich­es to Mar­low. Real­iz­ing that he is dying, Kurtz gives Mar­low a pack­et of papers and a pho­to­graph for safe­keep­ing. His last words are, “The hor­ror! The horror!”

“He cried in a whis­per at some image, at some vision – he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath – ‘The hor­ror! The horror!’ ”

Mar­low returns to Europe. There, an employ­ee of the trad­ing com­pa­ny demands that he hand over the papers from Kurtz. Mar­low refus­es but even­tu­al­ly hands him a report on the civ­i­liza­tion of the natives that Kurtz had writ­ten for the Inter­na­tion­al Soci­ety for the Sup­pres­sion of Sav­age Cus­toms. It proves of no inter­est to the com­pa­ny. Mar­low then vis­its Kurtz, intend­ing to give her the let­ters Kurtz entrust­ed to him. She is mourn­ing, and her admi­ra­tion and love for Kurtz over­whelm Mar­low, who strug­gles not to shat­ter her illu­sions about the man. When she asks Mar­low about Kurtz’s last words, he finds he can­not tell her the truth. Instead, he lies, telling her, “The last word he pro­nounced was – your name.”

About the Text

“Heart of Dark­ness” com­mences with a fram­ing nar­ra­tive where an unnamed nar­ra­tor recounts the con­ver­gence of five men on a yawl moored on the Thames. Among them is Char­lie Mar­low, who assumes the role of the pri­ma­ry sto­ry­teller, shar­ing tales of his adven­tures in Africa with his fel­low sea­men. These reflec­tions on Britain’s his­to­ry as a Roman colony serve as a pre­lude to the cen­tral nar­ra­tive of his African expe­di­tion. This tech­nique estab­lish­es the nov­el as a lay­ered nar­ra­tive, where Mar­low occa­sion­al­ly breaks the fourth wall to engage direct­ly with his audi­ence, sub­tly remind­ing read­ers of the sto­ry’s con­struct­ed nature.

The nar­ra­tive voice in Heart of Dark­ness empha­sizes impres­sions, feel­ings and the phys­i­cal qual­i­ty of the loca­tions Mar­low vis­it­ed on his jour­ney. Con­rad describes the Con­go Riv­er and the African jun­gle in dense, poet­ic prose as places of ter­ror. Heart of Dark­ness fol­lows the ancient myth­i­cal form of an odyssey, in which a hero sets off toward unknown lands and under­goes inter­nal change, faced with life-threat­en­ing dangers.

 Interpretation

• “Heart of Dark­ness” serves as a potent cri­tique of colo­nial­ism, illus­trat­ing the dire and des­o­late sit­u­a­tions Mar­low faces in colo­nial Africa are so ter­ri­ble and hope­less that they con­jure up visions of hell.
• On a pro­found lev­el, the nov­el reflects on the human exis­ten­tial ordeal, exam­in­ing how indi­vid­u­als either tri­umph or fal­ter in test­ing circumstances.
• The nov­el explores the nature of good and evil. The skep­ti­cal and human­i­tar­i­an Mar­low meets two types of Euro­peans on his jour­ney: the bru­tal and greedy (those work­ing for the trad­ing com­pa­ny) and the crazy (the Russ­ian). Mar­low’s expec­ta­tions of find­ing in Kurtz some­one who has man­aged to hold on to his ideals and allow cir­cum­stances to cor­rupt him are dis­ap­point­ing. Kurtz is depict­ed as the incar­na­tion of evil.
• The impen­e­tra­ble, threat­en­ing qual­i­ty of the African jun­gle and the oppres­sive heat define Mar­low’s view of the Con­go. The natives belong to this ancient and hos­tile envi­ron­ment. This por­tray­al of the natives has led to peo­ple crit­i­ciz­ing Con­rad’s nov­el as being racist.
• Con­rad employs con­trasts such as dark­ness ver­sus light and civ­i­liza­tion against the wilder­ness, chal­leng­ing these bina­ries through­out the nar­ra­tive. Notably, he uses the image of white fog to obscure vision and describes Kurtz metaphor­i­cal­ly “carved out of ivory,” sur­round­ed by indi­vid­u­als “of dark and glit­ter­ing bronze,” thus sub­vert­ing con­ven­tion­al asso­ci­a­tions with these colours.

Historical Context

European Colonialism

In the late 19th cen­tu­ry, he marked the onset of Euro­pean nations extend­ing their colo­nial ambi­tions into Africa’s inte­ri­or, dri­ven by the con­ti­nen­t’s vast­ness, chal­leng­ing ter­rain, and cli­mate. Hen­ry M. Stan­ley emerged as a key fig­ure in African colo­nial efforts, notably in the Con­go, which he offered to the Eng­lish and Bel­gians after explor­ing its rich delta.

King Leopold II of Bel­gium, seiz­ing the Con­go, exploit­ed its resources and peo­ple in one of his­to­ry’s most oppres­sive colo­nial endeav­ors under the guise of mis­sion­ary work and civ­i­liza­tion efforts—a nar­ra­tive that was large­ly unchal­lenged in Europe due to effec­tive pro­pa­gan­da. Joseph Con­rad’s “Heart of Dark­ness” reflects this through the naïve beliefs of Mar­low’s aunt and Kurtz’s fiancée. The expo­sure of Leopold’s atroc­i­ties, part­ly through the efforts of jour­nal­ist Edmund Dene Morel and his pio­neer­ing human rights cam­paign, began to shift Euro­pean perceptions.

Development Through Personal Experience

“Heart of Dark­ness” is deeply inter­twined with Con­rad’s expe­ri­ences, blend­ing bio­graph­i­cal ele­ments with a sur­re­al nar­ra­tive style. After near­ly two decades at sea, Con­rad ven­tured to the Con­go under the Bel­gian com­mis­sion, an expe­ri­ence that pro­found­ly impact­ed him, lead­ing to severe health issues and a life­long cri­tique of colo­nial­ism. This per­son­al voy­age mir­rors Mar­low’s jour­ney in the nov­el, high­light­ing Con­rad’s dis­il­lu­sion­ment with Euro­pean colo­nial practices.

Enduring Influence and Legacy

Despite ini­tial pub­lic indif­fer­ence, “Heart of Dark­ness,” along­side “Lord Jim,” remains Con­rad’s most cel­e­brat­ed work, earn­ing acclaim for explor­ing human nature and moral­i­ty under duress. Con­rad’s inno­v­a­tive nar­ra­tive tech­niques, focus­ing on psy­cho­log­i­cal depth, have influ­enced gen­er­a­tions of writ­ers world­wide, includ­ing notable fig­ures like Vir­ginia Woolf, T.S. Eliot, and George Orwell. His depic­tion of Africa and cri­tique of colo­nial­ism have paved the way for oth­er sig­nif­i­cant lit­er­ary works, as seen in V.S. Naipaul’s “A Bend in the River.”

Fur­ther­more, “Heart of Dark­ness” inspired Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la’s “Apoc­a­lypse Now,” a film that trans­pos­es Con­rad’s themes into the con­text of the Viet­nam War, fur­ther cement­ing the nov­el­’s impact on con­tem­po­rary cul­ture and discourse.

About the Author

Joseph Con­rad, orig­i­nal­ly Józef Teodor Kon­rad Korzeniows­ki, was born to Pol­ish par­ents in Berdy­czew, Ukraine, on Decem­ber 3, 1857. Dur­ing this peri­od, Poland was sub­ject­ed to czarist autoc­ra­cy, a regime against which Con­rad’s father active­ly cam­paigned. This polit­i­cal activism result­ed in the fam­i­ly’s exile to Rus­sia, a harsh relo­ca­tion that led to Con­rad’s moth­er’s untime­ly death. After his father passed away in 1869, Con­rad was tak­en in by his uncle, who ini­tial­ly opposed Con­rad’s desire to embark on a nau­ti­cal life but even­tu­al­ly relented.

In 1874, Con­rad com­menced his mar­itime career in the French mer­chant navy and lat­er became entan­gled in smug­gling, a mis­ad­ven­ture that left him pen­ni­less. Fol­low­ing a dis­mal peri­od marked by a sui­cide attempt, Con­rad joined the British mer­chant navy, embark­ing on a new chap­ter that led him to become a British cit­i­zen in 1886 and earn his Mas­ter’s certificate.

Con­rad’s lit­er­ary jour­ney began in 1889, when he wrote “Almay­er’s Fol­ly” in Eng­lish, his third lan­guage, draw­ing from his pro­found and often har­row­ing sea­far­ing expe­ri­ences. A piv­otal expe­di­tion to the Con­go deeply impact­ed him, expos­ing the bru­tal real­i­ties of colo­nial exploita­tion and sig­nif­i­cant­ly affect­ing his health, prompt­ing an ear­ly return to Eng­land. Pub­lished in 1894 as Joseph Con­rad, “Almay­er’s Fol­ly” gar­nered crit­i­cal acclaim, encour­ag­ing him to pur­sue writ­ing full-time and set­tle in Kent with his wife, Jessie George.

“Heart of Dark­ness” (1899), one of Con­rad’s sem­i­nal works, reflects his Con­go expe­ri­ences, depict­ing the grim real­i­ties of colo­nial­ism. Con­rad’s sto­ry­telling tran­scend­ed tra­di­tion­al nar­ra­tives, explor­ing the com­plex­i­ties of human con­scious­ness and moral dilem­mas. His influ­ence res­onat­ed with sub­se­quent gen­er­a­tions of writ­ers, includ­ing Vir­ginia Woolf, T.S. Eliot, and George Orwell. Con­rad’s lega­cy also extend­ed into film, inspir­ing Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la’s “Apoc­a­lypse Now” (1979). Con­rad passed away from heart fail­ure on August 3, 1924, leav­ing a lega­cy of lit­er­ary inno­va­tion and a crit­i­cal per­spec­tive on the human condition.