TYPHOON BY JOSEPH CONRAD (BOOK REVIEW AND OUTFIT POST)

Hello dear readers and fellow bloggers! Happy start of the Summer!  In this post, I'll share a book review for novella by Joseph Condrad and two summer outfits. Speaking of Summer, how's life been treating you? I've been busy with tutoring and stuff, so I haven't really started my vacation yet. I might even have a working summer. The photographs I'm going to share where taken in Mostar (apart from one seaside painting and photograph collage I'm sure you'll recognize from this post). I felt like any Joseph Conrad book review needs at least one seaside photograph. Anyhow, back to the book review.

Published in 1902, Typhoon is a novella that, for all that we know, might have been based on a real-life experience. Joseph Conrad drew on his own personal seaman experiences in many of his works, so why should this novella be an exception? To what extent it's autobiographical, we don't know, but it's definitely based on his mariner expertise. At any rate, Typhoon can be classified as one of Conrad's a seaman's books. 

The novella itself focused on Captain MacWhirr's (notice the name) decision to sail through a typhoon as well the consequences of that decision. As in most (if not all) Conrad's stories, the dire circumstances serve as a tool to examine the psychological states of the characters. Conrad always digs deep and this novella is no exception. Captain MacWhirr makes for an interesting protagonist and the other characters are just as fascinating.  In the Author's Note, Conrad assures us as readers that Captain MacWhirr is absolutely authentic in that it is a product of himself and twenty years of a seafaring experience. 

 "Captain MacWhirr, of the steamer Nan-Shan, had a physiognomy that, in the order of material appearances, was the exact counterpart of his mind: it presented no marked characteristics of firmness or stupidity; it had no pronounced characteristics whatever; it was simply ordinary, irresponsive, and unruffled.

The only thing his aspect might have been said to suggest, at times, was bashfulness; because he would sit, in business offices ashore, sunburnt and smiling faintly, with downcast eyes. When he raised them, they were perceived to be direct in their glance and of blue colour. His hair was fair and extremely fine, clasping from temple to temple the bald dome of his skull in a clamp as of fluffy silk...."

THIS NOVELLA IS AVAILABLE ONLINE ON PROJECT GUTENBERG

TYPHOON

By Joseph Conrad

Far as the mariner on highest mast
Can see all around upon the calmed vast,
So wide was Neptune's hall . . . — KEATS

---

Contents

AUTHOR'S NOTE TYPHOON      I      II      III      IV      V      VI

AUTHOR'S NOTE

The main characteristic of this volume consists in this, that all the stories composing it belong not only to the same period but have been written one after another in the order in which they appear in the book.

The period is that which follows on my connection with Blackwood's Magazine. I had just finished writing “The End of the Tether” and was casting about for some subject which could be developed in a shorter form than the tales in the volume of “Youth” when the instance of a steamship full of returning coolies from Singapore to some port in northern China occurred to my recollection. Years before I had heard it being talked about in the East as a recent occurrence. It was for us merely one subject of conversation amongst many others of the kind. Men earning their bread in any very specialized occupation will talk shop, not only because it is the most vital interest of their lives but also because they have not much knowledge of other subjects. They have never had the time to get acquainted with them. Life, for most of us, is not so much a hard as an exacting taskmaster.

I never met anybody personally concerned in this affair, the interest of which for us was, of course, not the bad weather but the extraordinary complication brought into the ship's life at a moment of exceptional stress by the human element below her deck. Neither was the story itself ever enlarged upon in my hearing. In that company each of us could imagine easily what the whole thing was like. The financial difficulty of it, presenting also a human problem, was solved by a mind much too simple to be perplexed by anything in the world except men's idle talk for which it was not adapted.

From the first the mere anecdote, the mere statement I might say, that such a thing had happened on the high seas, appeared to me a sufficient subject for meditation. Yet it was but a bit of a sea yarn after all. I felt that to bring out its deeper significance which was quite apparent to me, something other, something more was required; a leading motive that would harmonize all these violent noises, and a point of view that would put all that elemental fury into its proper place.

What was needed of course was Captain MacWhirr. Directly I perceived him I could see that he was the man for the situation. I don't mean to say that I ever saw Captain MacWhirr in the flesh, or had ever come in contact with his literal mind and his dauntless temperament. MacWhirr is not an acquaintance of a few hours, or a few weeks, or a few months. He is the product of twenty years of life. My own life. Conscious invention had little to do with him. If it is true that Captain MacWhirr never walked and breathed on this earth (which I find for my part extremely difficult to believe) I can also assure my readers that he is perfectly authentic. I may venture to assert the same of every aspect of the story, while I confess that the particular typhoon of the tale was not a typhoon of my actual experience.

At its first appearance “Typhoon,” the story, was classed by some critics as a deliberately intended storm-piece. Others picked out MacWhirr, in whom they perceived a definite symbolic intention. Neither was exclusively my intention. Both the typhoon and Captain MacWhirr presented themselves to me as the necessities of the deep conviction with which I approached the subject of the story. It was their opportunity. It was also my opportunity; and it would be vain to discourse about what I made of it in a handful of pages, since the pages themselves are here, between the covers of this volume, to speak for themselves.

This is a belated reflection. If it had occurred to me before it would have perhaps done away with the existence of this Author's Note; for, indeed, the same remark applies to every story in this volume. None of them are stories of experience in the absolute sense of the word. Experience in them is but the canvas of the attempted picture. Each of them has its more than one intention. With each the question is what the writer has done with his opportunity; and each answers the question for itself in words which, if I may say so without undue solemnity, were written with a conscientious regard for the truth of my own sensations. And each of those stories, to mean something, must justify itself in its own way to the conscience of each successive reader.

“Falk”—the second story in the volume—offended the delicacy of one critic at least by certain peculiarities of its subject. But what is the subject of “Falk”? I personally do not feel so very certain about it. He who reads must find out for himself. My intention in writing “Falk” was not to shock anybody. As in most of my writings I insist not on the events but on their effect upon the persons in the tale. But in everything I have written there is always one invariable intention, and that is to capture the reader's attention, by securing his interest and enlisting his sympathies for the matter in hand, whatever it may be, within the limits of the visible world and within the boundaries of human emotions.

I may safely say that Falk is absolutely true to my experience of certain straightforward characters combining a perfectly natural ruthlessness with a certain amount of moral delicacy. Falk obeys the law of self-preservation without the slightest misgivings as to his right, but at a crucial turn of that ruthlessly preserved life he will not condescend to dodge the truth. As he is presented as sensitive enough to be affected permanently by a certain unusual experience, that experience had to be set by me before the reader vividly; but it is not the subject of the tale. If we go by mere facts then the subject is Falk's attempt to get married; in which the narrator of the tale finds himself unexpectedly involved both on its ruthless and its delicate side.

“Falk” shares with one other of my stories (“The Return” in the “Tales of Unrest” volume) the distinction of never having been serialized. I think the copy was shown to the editor of some magazine who rejected it indignantly on the sole ground that “the girl never says anything.” This is perfectly true. From first to last Hermann's niece utters no word in the tale—and it is not because she is dumb, but for the simple reason that whenever she happens to come under the observation of the narrator she has either no occasion or is too profoundly moved to speak. The editor, who obviously had read the story, might have perceived that for himself. Apparently he did not, and I refrained from pointing out the impossibility to him because, since he did not venture to say that “the girl” did not live, I felt no concern at his indignation.

All the other stories were serialized. The “Typhoon” appeared in the early numbers of the Pall Mall Magazine, then under the direction of the late Mr. Halkett. It was on that occasion, too, that I saw for the first time my conceptions rendered by an artist in another medium. Mr. Maurice Grieffenhagen knew how to combine in his illustrations the effect of his own most distinguished personal vision with an absolute fidelity to the inspiration of the writer. “Amy Foster” was published in The Illustrated London News with a fine drawing of Amy on her day out giving tea to the children at her home, in a hat with a big feather. “To-morrow” appeared first in the Pall Mall Magazine. Of that story I will only say that it struck many people by its adaptability to the stage and that I was induced to dramatize it under the title of “One Day More”; up to the present my only effort in that direction. I may also add that each of the four stories on their appearance in book form was picked out on various grounds as the “best of the lot” by different critics, who reviewed the volume with a warmth of appreciation and understanding, a sympathetic insight and a friendliness of expression for which I cannot be sufficiently grateful.

1919. J. C.

TYPHOON, A NOVELLA BY JOSEPH CONRAD 5/5

What kind of novella is it? I would describe Typhoon as another extraordinary novella from the pen of a man who wrote about the sea like no other. Beautiful writing combined with an intense and exciting story is more than enough to satisfy me as a reader, but Conrad doesn't stop at that. 

As I indicated in the opening paragraph of my book review, Typhoon is more than a novella about how men react under stress (even if it is a central theme). It is more that a story about human bravery. Conrad knows how to complex even in shorter literary forms. Conrad's craftsmanship when it comes to creating memorable literary character is always exceptional.

The way he paints captain MacWhirr is so effortless. Conrad introduces the captain's personal history early on, describing how the captain abandoned his parents (despite being an only child) at an early age, to run away to the sea simply because he felt that- he could do the job. 

Having just enough imagination to carry him through each successive day, and no more, he was tranquilly sure of himself; and from the very same cause he was not in the least conceited. It is your imaginative superior who is touchy, overbearing, and difficult to please; but every ship Captain MacWhirr commanded was the floating abode of harmony and peace. It was, in truth, as impossible for him to take a flight of fancy as it would be for a watchmaker to put together a chronometer with nothing except a two-pound hammer and a whip-saw in the way of tools. Yet the uninteresting lives of men so entirely given to the actuality of the bare existence have their mysterious side. It was impossible in Captain MacWhirr's case, for instance, to understand what under heaven could have induced that perfectly satisfactory son of a petty grocer in Belfast to run away to sea. And yet he had done that very thing at the age of fifteen. It was enough, when you thought it over, to give you the idea of an immense, potent, and invisible hand thrust into the ant-heap of the earth, laying hold of shoulders, knocking heads together, and setting the unconscious faces of the multitude towards inconceivable goals and in undreamt-of directions.

 
In fact, what always amazes me about this writer, what continues to impress me,  is the incredibly detailed psychological portrayal of all Conrad's literary characters. Conrad is one of those writers who can paint a soul of man with a few clever hints. Conrad is a master when it comes to revealing the soul of his characters. This is probably the main reason why I can't get enough of his writing. Moreover, Conrad's writing, his novels, novellas and short stories  never feel repetitive, even when he explores similar themes.  Likewise, the characters Conrad's creates always feel unique and one of a kind. 

Thus wrote Mr. Jukes to his chum in the Western ocean trade, out of the fulness of his heart and the liveliness of his fancy.

He had expressed his honest opinion. It was not worthwhile trying to impress a man of that sort. If the world had been full of such men, life would have probably appeared to Jukes an unentertaining and unprofitable business. He was not alone in his opinion. The sea itself, as if sharing Mr. Jukes' good-natured forbearance, had never put itself out to startle the silent man, who seldom looked up, and wandered innocently over the waters with the only visible purpose of getting food, raiment, and house-room for three people ashore. Dirty weather he had known, of course. He had been made wet, uncomfortable, tired in the usual way, felt at the time and presently forgotten. So that upon the whole he had been justified in reporting fine weather at home. But he had never been given a glimpse of immeasurable strength and of immoderate wrath, the wrath that passes exhausted but never appeased—the wrath and fury of the passionate sea. He knew it existed, as we know that crime and abominations exist; he had heard of it as a peaceable citizen in a town hears of battles, famines, and floods, and yet knows nothing of what these things mean—though, indeed, he may have been mixed up in a street row, have gone without his dinner once, or been soaked to the skin in a shower."

 
Perhaps another thing worth mentioning when it comes to Typhoon is there is a good amount of humour in this one. Perhaps you wouldn't expect it in a story about a bunch of man caught in dire circumstances, but humour is very present here. Naturally, it's a darker kind of humour. Conrad can be quite funny actually. Sometimes it is easy to miss, because he can be subtle about it, but Conrad does knows how to deliver a clever remark or an ironical observation. If you want to see how this writer does subtle irony and humour, this book is as good choice as any.

When Jukes turned, his eyes fell upon the rounded back and the big red ears of Captain MacWhirr, who had come across. He did not look at his chief officer, but said at once, “That's a very violent man, that second engineer.”

“Jolly good second, anyhow,” grunted Jukes. “They can't keep up steam,” he added, rapidly, and made a grab at the rail against the coming lurch.

Captain MacWhirr, unprepared, took a run and brought himself up with a jerk by an awning stanchion.

“A profane man,” he said, obstinately. “If this goes on, I'll have to get rid of him the first chance.”

“It's the heat,” said Jukes. “The weather's awful. It would make a saint swear. Even up here I feel exactly as if I had my head tied up in a woollen blanket.”

Captain MacWhirr looked up. “D'ye mean to say, Mr. Jukes, you ever had your head tied up in a blanket? What was that for?”

“It's a manner of speaking, sir,” said Jukes, stolidly.

5 MORE WAYS TO STYLE THIS DRESS

 
I won't talk much of the plot to avoid spoilers but I will say that this novella isn't only about the typhoon. It happens and in a way it's what plot revolves around, but on the other hand, it's also about the captain and the migrant workmen from China who are travelling on the ship during the typhoon. 

Captain MacWhirr wiped his eyes. The sea that had nearly taken him overboard had, to his great annoyance, washed his sou'-wester hat off his bald head. The fluffy, fair hair, soaked and darkened, resembled a mean skein of cotton threads festooned round his bare skull. His face, glistening with sea-water, had been made crimson with the wind, with the sting of sprays. He looked as though he had come off sweating from before a furnace.

“You here?” he muttered, heavily.

The second mate had found his way into the wheelhouse some time before. He had fixed himself in a corner with his knees up, a fist pressed against each temple; and this attitude suggested rage, sorrow, resignation, surrender, with a sort of concentrated unforgiveness. He said mournfully and defiantly, “Well, it's my watch below now: ain't it?”

The steam gear clattered, stopped, clattered again; and the helmsman's eyeballs seemed to project out of a hungry face as if the compass card behind the binnacle glass had been meat. God knows how long he had been left there to steer, as if forgotten by all his shipmates. The bells had not been struck; there had been no reliefs; the ship's routine had gone down wind; but he was trying to keep her head north-north-east. The rudder might have been gone for all he knew, the fires out, the engines broken down, the ship ready to roll over like a corpse. He was anxious not to get muddled and lose control of her head, because the compass-card swung far both ways, wriggling on the pivot, and sometimes seemed to whirl right round. He suffered from mental stress. He was horribly afraid, also, of the wheelhouse going. Mountains of water kept on tumbling against it. When the ship took one of her desperate dives the corners of his lips twitched.

Captain MacWhirr looked up at the wheelhouse clock. Screwed to the bulk-head, it had a white face on which the black hands appeared to stand quite still. It was half-past one in the morning.

“Another day,” he muttered to himself.

The second mate heard him, and lifting his head as one grieving amongst ruins, “You won't see it break,” he exclaimed. His wrists and his knees could be seen to shake violently. “No, by God! You won't. . . .”

He took his face again between his fists.

The body of the helmsman had moved slightly, but his head didn't budge on his neck,—like a stone head fixed to look one way from a column. During a roll that all but took his booted legs from under him, and in the very stagger to save himself, Captain MacWhirr said austerely, “Don't you pay any attention to what that man says.” And then, with an indefinable change of tone, very grave, he added, “He isn't on duty.”

The sailor said nothing.

The hurricane boomed, shaking the little place, which seemed air-tight; and the light of the binnacle flickered all the time.

“You haven't been relieved,” Captain MacWhirr went on, looking down. “I want you to stick to the helm, though, as long as you can. You've got the hang of her. Another man coming here might make a mess of it. Wouldn't do. No child's play. And the hands are probably busy with a job down below. . . . Think you can?”

The descriptions in this novella are extremely descriptive and engaging. You find yourself really caught up in the story. Moreover, the ending was brilliantly written. The whole novel was well paced, yet the ending seemed especially so. Moreover, the ending  made me reflect about the 'invisible wall' that divided the wives and the husbands of the old. 

Here we have loyal husbands who write long letters to wives they love. The wives in question seem to be perfectly alright with the fact they hardly ever see their husbands. One gets a feeling the wives don't even need their husbands for any purpose but that of a financial support. Perhaps we are creatures of habits? 

Maybe women were forced to adapt to this kind of lives, getting used to living without their 'seaman' husbands. Nevertheless, the wives (even the children) don't seem to be eager to see the mariners at all. The mariner husbands clearly idolize their wives and children who in turn care little for them. It was an interesting contrast between the sentiments of the two. It made me feel sorry for the seaman, I tell you. The wife of the captain is neither interested in him coming home nor worried about his safety. The Mrs. MacWhirr is annoyed her husband is even thinking of returning when he has such a good salary and skims over his letter rather impatiently. 

The hammering and banging of the needful repairs did not disturb Captain MacWhirr. The steward found in the letter he wrote, in a tidy chart-room, passages of such absorbing interest that twice he was nearly caught in the act. But Mrs. MacWhirr, in the drawing-room of the forty-pound house, stifled a yawn—perhaps out of self-respect—for she was alone.

She reclined in a plush-bottomed and gilt hammock-chair near a tiled fireplace, with Japanese fans on the mantel and a glow of coals in the grate. Lifting her hands, she glanced wearily here and there into the many pages. It was not her fault they were so prosy, so completely uninteresting—from “My darling wife” at the beginning, to “Your loving husband” at the end. She couldn't be really expected to understand all these ship affairs. She was glad, of course, to hear from him, but she had never asked herself why, precisely.

“. . . They are called typhoons . . . The mate did not seem to like it . . . Not in books . . . Couldn't think of letting it go on. . . .”

The paper rustled sharply. “. . . . A calm that lasted more than twenty minutes,” she read perfunctorily; and the next words her thoughtless eyes caught, on the top of another page, were: “see you and the children again. . . .” She had a movement of impatience. He was always thinking of coming home. He had never had such a good salary before. What was the matter now?

 
It makes you wonder, doesn't it? We're taught that before feminism women used to be perceived as lesser beings but maybe it is also true that in those times women were also often idolized, seen as perfectly innocent creatures- and put first. It is clear in the way the seaman characters in this novella think of their wives and family. They never question their loyalty, even when their families show them little love. It was completely normal to expect from a man to risk his life and work hard for his family even when he would get nothing in return. You never see these men asking the question- What about me? It is understood that they must do whatever they can do support their families.

I found it really heart-breaking how the wife simply skimmed over the letter and completely missed the part where the captain was worried and almost certain that he will never see his wife and kids again. 

It did not occur to her to turn back overleaf to look. She would have found it recorded there that between 4 and 6 A. M. on December 25th, Captain MacWhirr did actually think that his ship could not possibly live another hour in such a sea, and that he would never see his wife and children again. Nobody was to know this (his letters got mislaid so quickly)—nobody whatever but the steward, who had been greatly impressed by that disclosure....

Mrs. MacWhirr glanced farther, on the alert. “. . . Do what's fair. . . Miserable objects . . . . Only three, with a broken leg each, and one . . . Thought had better keep the matter quiet . . . hope to have done the fair thing. . . .”

She let fall her hands. No: there was nothing more about coming home. Must have been merely expressing a pious wish. Mrs. MacWhirr's mind was set at ease, and a black marble clock, priced by the local jeweller at 3L. 18s. 6d., had a discreet stealthy tick.

After skimming through the letter, Mrs. Whirr was relieved that her husband wasn't coming home yet and seemed only happy to go shopping with her children (and it's even implied she is proud that her daughter is as indifferent to her husband's whereabouts as the mother). 

The door flew open, and a girl in the long-legged, short-frocked period of existence, flung into the room.

A lot of colourless, rather lanky hair was scattered over her shoulders. Seeing her mother, she stood still, and directed her pale prying eyes upon the letter.

“From father,” murmured Mrs. MacWhirr. “What have you done with your ribbon?”

The girl put her hands up to her head and pouted.

“He's well,” continued Mrs. MacWhirr languidly. “At least I think so. He never says.” She had a little laugh. The girl's face expressed a wandering indifference, and Mrs. MacWhirr surveyed her with fond pride.

“Go and get your hat,” she said after a while. “I am going out to do some shopping. There is a sale at Linom's.”

“Oh, how jolly!” uttered the child, impressively, in unexpectedly grave vibrating tones, and bounded out of the room.

Naturally, Typhoon is not a story about domestic relations, but it does talk about them, perhaps even questions them, hence I felt like it is something worth mentioning. That last chapter really left a lasting impression on me. 

Mrs. MacWhirr talked rapidly.

“Thank you very much. He's not coming home yet. Of course it's very sad to have him away, but it's such a comfort to know he keeps so well.” Mrs. MacWhirr drew breath. “The climate there agrees with him,” she added, beamingly, as if poor MacWhirr had been away touring in China for the sake of his health.

 
 
I'm of the opinion that Typhoon is a classic that has stood the test of time quite well. It's so well written, easy to read and it's not very long. To conclude, I would recommend this wonderful novella to everyone, especially to  lovers of sea stories, fans of Joseph Conrad or those who would like to read more of him. If you want to read an exciting story not only about how seamen reaction under pressure, but about their lives at home as well, all completed with clever social remarks and observations, this novella is a great choice. I do recommend it!

SUSTAINABLE FASHION FILES 

You know that I like to be sustainable with my fashion clothes. That's why I try to wear my clothing items as much as possible and buy less. When I do buy clothes, I try to opt for second hand, vintage or local designer shops. I avoid fast fashion. 

HOW I WORE THESE CLOTHING ITEMS BEFORE?

OUTFIT NUMBER ONE- BOHEMIAN SUMMER VIBES

I feel like this outfit has some bohemian vibes. Maybe it's the dress and the bag. How do you like it? 

BROWN PLATFORM SANDALS- I wore this pair more than a hundred times! Back in 2021, I posted about 53 ways to wear them, but since then I wore these sandals again and again. They are a purchase that really paid off!

53 WAYS TO WEAR A PAIR OF BROWN SANDALS

A BROWN BAG WITH FRINGES- I bought this one years ago (in a local store chain Borsa) and even bought one extra as a gift for my sister-in-law but I cannot find any recorder wears on my blog. I'm positive I have worn this bag before. Maybe I just didn't get a photograph with it. I will link it up if I manage to find my previous bag.

BLUE MIXED PRINT DRESS WITH LACE DETAILS- I got so much more wear out of this dress then I expected when I bought it. I wore it most recently here. Before that I wore it 

 here, HERE AND HERE!

OUTFIT NUMBER TWO- A CLASSICAL BLACK AND BEIGE COMBO

This second styling is a classical one. They say you cannot go wrong with a little black dress, don't they? I wore black shorts under this LBD because it's a little short. It was always a little bit short on me, but now that I have gained so much weight, it's even shorter so shorts under are really a must. But you know what? I think I'll start wearing shorts under dresses all the time. It's so practical in the sense that it keeps you at ease. 

THE MINI BLACK DRESS WITH RUFFLES- I've had this dress for more than a decade. I don't remember where I bought it, but it was a purchase that definitely paid off. How I styled it before? In this post, I accessorized this ruffled mini dress with a scarf in different ways. In 2013 (eleven years ago!), I colour coordinated this dress with my German Sheppard dog that was tragically poisoned that same year. 

THE BEIGE VINTAGE SCARF WORN AS A BELT- I'm not sure have I showed this scarf on my blog before, but it's vintage and I bought it in a second hand shop in Split. 

THE BEIGE BAG- I wear it all the time, last worn with a white cherry print dress ( one of the outfits shown in my last post). Also featured in the post preceding that last one and the one before that and also HERE.

THE BEIGE HEELS- I bought this last year, you can see how I styled them in 3 different ways here.

“Captain MacWhirr had sailed over the surface of the oceans as
some men go skimming over the years of existence to sink gently into
a placid grave, ignorant of life to the last, without ever having been
made to see all it may contain of perfidy, of violence, and of terror.

There are on sea and land such men thus fortunate--or thus disdained by
destiny or by the sea.”
Joseph Conrad, Typhoon

5 MORE RECENT READING RECOMMENDATIONS !

THE SECRET AGENT BY JOSEPH CONRAD

ANNA KARENINA BY LEO TOLSTOY

THE TIME OF INDIFFERENCE BY ALBERTO MORAVIA 

A WIZARD OF EARTHSEA BY URSULA K. LE GUIN

GREAT ESSAYS IN SCIENCE BY MARTIN GARDNER

Thank you for reading. Take care!