Joesph Conrad: The Outsider

Imagine, as a native English speaker, having a passable knowledge of French and German. Now, though, try to envisage being asked to write an article in Greek. Improbable? Inconceivable seems a more apposite adjective under the circumstances.

Writers, usually because of exile from their native land, have made such seismic shifts over the years. A recent example is the Czech Milan Kundera, many of whose marvellous works were written in French after several years of living in Paris.

One of the best examples of someone writing in English is Joseph Conrad, born in Ukraine to a Polish family. Growing up under the Tsarist autocracy, he was forced to learn Russian as a youngster, so those languages came well before English.

Conrad served on French merchant ships, so it is highly probable that he spoke some French as well. English, therefore, would have been (at least) a fourth language for him. Despite that, one can certainly count him as one of the finest novelists in the English language. He has left behind a hugely impressive body of work.

Heart of Darkness still causes debate. The great writer Chinua Achebe always deemed it racist. Far be it for someone of considerably less talent like me to argue, but I don’t agree. Yes, the work uses words we wouldn’t dream of using now, but so did Mark Twain, Harper Lee and many other authors of that era. I don’t regard them as racist. Any work is of its time and my view is that Conrad appears a great deal more sympathetic to Africans than the European colonialists about whom he is generally scathing.

Interestingly, I once lent the novel to an African colleague in Eritrea. He, with no prompting from me, said much the same as I have just remarked after he had read the novel and returned it to me.

It has always intrigued me that Conrad met Roger Casement in Africa. Both men had originally formed the opinion that colonialism would be a good thing in terms of the benefits that it would bring to the colonised.. Both soon took a very different view. It’s easy to believe that each exerted a certain influence on the other.

Casement would be knighted for his work in exposing the appalling conditions in the Belgian Congo. That knighthood would end, as did his life, when he became a convert to the cause of Irish liberation, no doubt affected powerfully by what he had seen and experienced of colonial oppression in action.

A personal footnote to this: as someone with a strong Irish background who went to school in England, I was not thrilled when Casement was casually dismissed as an English traitor. I suspect that I gave my history teacher something of a shock one day when, at the age of about fourteen, I put up my hand and said, “Not in Ireland he isn’t!”

Perhaps it’s that sense of being an outsider. Many of Conrad’s works revolve around such characters. In Heart of Darkness, all of the Europeans are, by necessity, outsiders. The sailor/narrator Marlow is an outsider and the mysterious Kurtz even more so.

The outsider is a character beloved of novelists. Virtually anyone who has written a book or even a story will have one lurking somewhere. Albert Camus even went so far as to give pride of place in a title to one. L’Etranger can, in its most simple translation, be interpreted as The Stranger, but a better translation is The Outsider. An outsider is more complex than a mere stranger; he or she has that air of mystery, the thing that sets them apart and very possibly a darker element. The Heart of Darkness does not necessarily refer to the continent of Africa.

For a sense of Conrad’s own sense of alienation and isolation, read one of his short stories, Amy Foster. A shipwrecked sailor from Eastern Europe, Yanko, finds himself alone and stranded in Kent. It is little coincidence that Conrad made his home in that county and it is hard to imagine that Yanko’s attempts to assimilate himself into a close-knit and suspicious community is other than a reflection of Conrad’s own struggles. Amy Foster is the simple, but kind-hearted girl whom Yanko will eventually marry, but even that relationship is marked by incomprehension and misunderstanding.

The Secret Agent, Lord Jim, Heart of Darkness and Nostromo rank among the greatest novels of all time, the latter widely regarded as his finest work. Any single one of these would be, quite rightly, regarded as a masterpiece by any author writing in the English language. To know that they are the output of a man who, born Josef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski, only acquired British nationality at the age of twenty-nine is something extraordinary.


There is nothing that Duck Holiday likes better than a classic novel (with the possible exception of a glass or two of very good quality beer). Eastern and Central Europe have produced their fair share of great writers and the time has come for a brief foray into the literary world.

These things are, of course, largely subjective. One person’s great novel is another’s unreadable bilge, but everyone has their own favourites and the following selection of works represent a mere handful of the preferences within the duck house.

Joseph Conrad – Heart of Darkness

Joseph Conrad was born in 1857, in a Russian-occupied part of Poland. His Polish nationalist parents were persecuted by the Russians and died while their son was still a child. He left his native land when he was 17 and lived in France before joining the British merchant navy four years later. He was to spend some 20 years as a sailor.

Conrad, then, was a man who understood fully the concepts of colonialism and alienation. Not surprisingly, these facets loomed large in many of his novels and short stories (a wonderful example is to be found in his story Amy Foster, a deeply moving tale of the isolation of an Eastern European sailor stranded in England).

Nowhere better are the themes explored than in Heart of Darkness, published in 1899. Some modern critics have suggested that the novel is racist, but surely its message is the precise opposite. Conrad experienced first-hand the grasping brutality of colonialism – Belgian, in this case – during his own visit to the Congo in 1890. He was no imperialist; his own early experiences were to shape his outlook.

Conrad is a sardonic observer, all too aware that the so-called civilizing Europeans in Africa were little more than rapacious profiteers. Modern-day readers should bear in mind when the novel was written and place it in its proper historical context. Yes, there are words used that are completely unacceptable nowadays, but one should remember that they were current usage at the time. It is a grave mistake to apply 21st-century thinking to 19th-century literature (or, indeed, any other form of art).

With that in mind, Conrad’s work should be seen as radical, a work that challenges imperialism rather than reinforcing it. Nor should it be overlooked that Conrad was writing in a language that was not his first (nor second or third, for that matter). Heart of Darkness deserves its place among the classic works of 19th-century literature.

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Franz Kafka – The Castle

It is only a select few writers whose names leave an adjective behind – Kafkaesque in the case of Franz Kafka – and this fact alone tends to demonstrate the uniqueness and importance of such writers.

Kafka’s characters, like Josef K in The Trial, find themselves in situations they cannot comprehend and which are beyond their control. Likewise, in The Castle, the character known only as K (that letter again!) is left bewildered, caught in a labyrinth from which he cannot escape. He cannot gain admittance of the mysterious castle at which he is supposed to be employed, nor can he go home. His world is populated by bureaucrats and administrators whose sole purpose appears to be to make his life difficult. When we finally see inside the castle, we witness people moving documents from one place to another, only to move them back to their original position. Those of us who have passed some of our years as civil servants can only smile wryly.

Franz Kafka was born in Prague in 1883 and died from tuberculosis in 1924. We are fortunate that his works still exist. Shortly before his death, he asked his friend, Max Brod, to ensure that all his writings be destroyed. Fortunately, Brod felt unable to carry out this request and The Castle, along with The Trial and several other works, was published posthumously.

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Fyodor Dostoevsky – The Possessed

In 2001, The Guardian published a list of the 100 Greatest Works of Fiction of all time. A number of writers, such as Gabriel Garcia Marquez, were represented twice. William Shakespeare had three entries. The only four-timer, however, was Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Though born in Moscow, Dostoevsky spent much of his life in St Petersburg and his writing is irrevocably linked with that city. He also spent ten years in prison, a fate suffered by not a few Russian writers. He was, in fact, sentenced to death by firing squad, but this was commuted to penal servitude in Siberia. It is extraordinary to think that had the original punishment been carried out, there would have been no Crime and Punishment, no The Idiot, no The Possessed and no The Brothers Karamazov.

The first of these is undoubtedly the best-known work, but The Possessed is a dark and powerful novel, one based on the true story of a young revolutionary murdered by his comrades. Dostoevsky was in a good position to understand the circumstances; it was because of his youthful revolutionary ideals that he was imprisoned in the first place.

Though Dostoevsky writes from the more conservative standpoint he adopted later in life, The Possessed should not be viewed as reactionary. It provides a chilling preview of 20th-century totalitarianism and anyone who has ever belonged to a small political party will recognise the factionalism and in-fighting that seems almost inevitable in such a grouping.

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Nikolay Gogol – Dead Souls

A rather gentler dispute between Russian and Ukraine than the current conflict concerns the writer Nikolay Gogol. Gogol was born in Poltava Province, now part of Ukraine, but in Russia when Gogol was born in 1809. Being of Ukrainian and Polish ancestry, Gogol could not be described as a truly ‘Russian’ writer and indeed spent much of his short life in Western Europe.

A troubled man who suffered both mental and physical problems, Gogol died at the age of 42, but left behind one of the great 19th-century works in the shape of Dead Souls. The souls in question are those of dead serfs, still current on census rolls, whose names are steadily bought up by the mysterious Chichikov. The idea is that the owners of the serfs will not have to pay tax on them and that Chichikov can present a long list of ‘his’ serfs to the authorities so that he can re-invent himself as a gentleman landowner.

If the plot sounds absurd, that is because it is. The cast of characters is no less absurd, full of chancers, conmen, windbags, fantasists and liars. The novel mixes down to earth reality alongside utter surrealism. Imagine Sterne’s Tristram Shandy being relocated to Russia and given a few further odd twists.

Gogol does not have the status of Dostoevsky, nor does he leave such a substantial body of work, but one can see the influence of Gogol on his younger contemporary in his scathing satire as well of his use of location.

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Robert Musil – The Man Without Qualities

Try to imagine Ulysses being transferred to Vienna, but spread over several months rather than a single day, take away a few of the bars, shift the characters up a few social notches and you might begin to form a picture of Robert Musil’s gargantuan work.

Born in Klagenfurt in 1880, Musil studied science and philosophy before embarking on a short-lived military career and pursuing a life in writing after the publication of his first novel in 1906. It is, then, no coincidence that the central character of The Man Without Qualities, Ulrich, is (you’ve guessed it) a former soldier, scientist and philosopher.

After serving in the First World War, Musil devoted much of his life to his masterwork and indeed the book remained unfinished. Quite how far he would have taken it is difficult to imagine. The action – though there is not a great deal of ‘action’ – is set in 1913, with the great, good and not so good of Viennese high society trying to devise ways of celebrating the 70th jubilee of the Emperor Franz Josef.

In the midst of it all, but somehow aloof, stands the hero/antihero Ulrich. The novel veers between satire, social observation, stream of consciousness and philosophical debate as ‘the man without qualities’ watches the intrigues, plots and one-upmanship revolving around him.

The book, not surprisingly, was banned by the Nazis and Musil managed to escape to Switzerland in 1938, living there until his death four years later.

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Milan Kundera – Ignorance

While this is not Kundera’s best-known work – The Book of Laughter and Forgetting and The Unbearable Lightness of Being would vie for the title – it is a book that has special significance for this writer. The novel was a central part of a dissertation in which the student was required to choose one work of fiction and one non-fictional work to compare and contrast literary styles. Kundera’s beautiful prose made the assignment much easier for this particular student.

Remarkable, then, that the original was written in French, Kundera’s second language. He was born in Brno, then in Czechoslovakia and now in the Czech Republic, but has spent much of his adult life in France. Thus there is something of an autobiographical feel to Ignorance, whereby Irena, a Czech émigré resident in France, returns to her homeland after the end of the Communist era. The result is a moving novel full of nostalgia, memories – both real and imagined – and, indeed, a certain amount of laughter and forgetting.

Like Joseph Conrad, Kundera knows only too well the pain of exile and like Conrad, is able to express all its attendant emotions in a language not his own.

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A historian once pointed out, quite correctly, that it was necessary to understand the past in order to understand the present. This is a phrase that springs all too readily to mind for a visitor to Auschwitz, a place that one feels must be included on a trip to Krakow.

It is, of course, not quite so easy to understand the minds of those that created places like Auschwitz. It is also understandable why some people may not wish to visit. It is not a place that makes for comfortable viewing, but travel is not always about seeing the beautiful and aesthetically pleasing things. Travel is, or should, be about understanding and learning as well as hedonistic pleasure.

If one were to be driven inside the grounds of Auschwitz without seeing anything, and thus missing the infamous gates, little might seem amiss. The site of an old army barracks, you might think and this would be correct, as the camp served precisely this purpose until 1940. Only then did its ghastly history begin.

The notorious gate

The notorious gate

There are a few hints in the grounds of some of the camp’s unpleasant secrets. The watchtowers and barbed wire suggest a more sinister purpose. The visitor might not immediately realise it, but a basic brick building was used as a gas chamber. Nearby, there is a gallows. Here, Rudolf Höss, the Commandant of Auschwitz, was hanged after being convicted of the murder of three and a half million human beings.



It is, though, inside the buildings that the horror of the place begins to hit home. It is, of course, impossible to imagine what things were really like, but the stark displays leave a feeling of emptiness and despair, none more so than the cabinets filled with human hair. The vast piles of tattered shoes are also heart-rending.



However awful Auschwitz feels, a trip to the nearby Birkenau camp feels even more desperate. The latter was built by prisoners, largely Russian prisoners of war, as an addendum to the Auschwitz camp, as Auschwitz was simply not big enough. Birkenau is vast, bare, bleak and open. The railway line running into it gives a sense of a one-way journey into Hell. The sparse wooden huts and the basic latrines made it a Hell that was freezing in winter and burning in summer.



View of Birkenau camp

View of Birkenau camp

Huts at Birkenau

Huts at Birkenau

This is history at its most uncomfortable. It is also history at its most necessary.

Wieliczka Salt Mine

The small town of Wieliczka is about eight miles south east of Krakow and is known almost exclusively for the salt mine beneath it. Salt deposits were first discovered in the 13th century and the mine continued in commercial operation until the end of the 20th century. The site was placed on the very first UNESCO list of World Heritage Sites in 1978.

The first task for the visitor is, naturally enough, to descend. There are around 350 steps down, though it can seem like more as the spiral staircases just keep coming. An inevitable thought as you disappear further into the earth is that you hope you don’t have to come back the same way. Thankfully not – there are lifts to take you back to the surface.

Going underground

Going underground

Although some of the more recent sculptures in the mine were created by modern artists, most of the work was done by miners. Unsurprisingly, in a devoutly Catholic country, many of the pieces are of a religious nature. The effect is rather like entering an underground cathedral. It’s possible, should you be so inclined, to hold your wedding ceremony in the mine, though presumably the event would cost a fair amount. There are even occasional concerts held in some of the larger chambers, the acoustics being exceptional.

(Under street) sculpture

(Under street) sculpture

One of the sobering thoughts, as you wander around the passages and caverns of the mine, is that the visitor only sees a tiny portion of the whole place. A visitor will walk around two kilometres of the total of 200 or so kilometres of the total. The walking tour takes around two hours.

The mine is almost an underground city in salt, with its chapels, chambers and rooms. The ‘city’ has its own lakes and small rivers, so intensely saline as to make the Dead Sea look like a freshwater lake. The administrator of the mine had his own ‘house’ within the mine, the Gothic architecture befitting its subterranean location.

The most spectacular of the mine’s three chapels is the Kinga Chapel, dedicated to the mine’s patron saint. It is the largest chapel and is delightfully ornate, containing many sculptures and intricate chandeliers, all lovingly carved from rock salt.

Salt chandalier

Salt chandalier

Poland thrives on myths and legends. Not surprisingly, one of these legends is attached to the mine and its patron saint. Kinga was a Hungarian princess who was to be married to the King of Krakow. As a gift for her husband, she asked for a salt mine, salt being scarce in Poland. Her father duly provided one. She threw her ring into the depths of one of her father’s salt mines before leaving for Poland. On arriving there, she asked the people to dig a deep pit. The people found salt and wrapped around a salt crystal was the princess’s ring.

Salt stalagtites

Salt stalagtites

The original miners had their own canteens, but the modern-day visitor can have a meal in the restaurant, 125 metres below ground. Diners are unlikely to make requests for extra salt.

Krakow – Inside the Horseshoe

It is almost certain that a trip to Krakow will, at least for a first-time visitor, involve visits to the Wieliczka Salt Mine and to Auschwitz-Birkenau. These places merit a full examination of their own and cannot be crammed into a small piece about the city itself. This article will concentrate purely on Krakow.

Weather for duck holidayers

Weather for duck holidayers

Krakow may be synonymous with the above sites, but there is plenty to see in the city. The centre is enclosed by the horseshoe-shaped Planty Park, which makes it very easy to navigate. A river always helps, both in terms of adding something to the scenic aspects as well as for finding one’s way, and the mighty Wisła runs through Krakow to the south of the city.

The Market Square is the city’s heart, full of people and pigeons whatever the time of year or day. The centrepiece is the lovely Renaissance building, the Cloth Hall, still in use as a market, but mainly selling souvenirs these days. Overlooking the square is the giant Gothic brickwork that is St Mary’s Basilica. On the hour mark, look and listen out for the trumpeter at the top of the taller of the two towers. Legend has it that the curtailed call is in memory of the 13th-century trumpeter who was cut short in mid performance by a Tatar arrow as he sounded the alarm.

St Mary's Basilica

St Mary’s Basilica

The upper floor of the Cloth Hall houses the Sukiennice Museum, comprising four grandiose rooms of 19th-century Polish art. The museum is part of the National Museum, which in reality is a collection of museums and galleries. The Historical Museum is similarly scattered and includes the splendid Florian Gate, a typically Krakow-style mixture of the Gothic and Baroque rolled into one structure.

Cloth Hall

Cloth Hall

On the hill at the southern end of Planty Park stands Wawel Castle, which is another collection of buildings that have a slightly patchwork appearance after much destruction and rebuilding through the centuries. The 14th-century Gothic cathedral – itself something of a composite affair – stands out and is the burial place for Polish kings and heroes, including Poland’s greatest poet, Adam Mickiewicz, who is also honoured with a bronze statue in the Market Square.

The Royal Chambers features a number of beautifully decorated rooms and halls. Keep an eye on the ceilings, particularly in the ‘Room of the Heads’, where 30 (there used to be a lot more) sculpted and painted faces peer down to keep an eye on proceedings to make sure the royals don’t get above themselves. The ‘Room of the Birds’ is another hall with remarkable decorations, chiefly in the shape of the Renaissance frieze featuring the aforementioned birds.

To the south east of the castle lies Kazimierz, the old Jewish Quarter. This area has undergone a major revival in recent years. Much of the Steven Spielberg film, Schindler’s List, was filmed here and a little row of shops created for the set has been preserved in tribute. Now, though, there are synagogues, museums, bars, cafés and restaurants of all kinds, including a very decent Indian.

Krakow does not lack for bars and restaurants and vegetarians are well catered for. It’s worth noting that food portions tend to be rather large and that Polish beer is pretty strong, so unless you have an extraordinary constitution, ordering the smallest option on the menu and the lightest beer is the sensible option. A ‘small cheese pie’, for example, is roughly the size of a medium-sized bungalow and may come with enough vegetables to satisfy one’s five-a-day ration in one go. Even Monty Python’s Mr Creosote might be slightly intimidated by the larger versions. For those who can’t manage between meals, there are legions of bagel sellers dotted around the town.

A glass of Polish porter is something well worth trying and for the truly adventurous, two glasses. Żywiec Porter is as black as the Ace of Spades and is so thick that you can almost chew it. At 9.5% ABV, it is a beer to sip slowly and has a kick like a mule wearing reinforced Doc Martens. It is, in fact, quite a pleasant drink with dark roasted notes and a hint of chocolate, but it is not a session beer.

Poles will argue the vodka is a Polish, rather than Russian, invention and don’t be surprised to find yourself offered a chance to sample some in a restaurant. The vodka may be pure or come in unusual flavours, and it is, of course, impolite to refuse the offering. If you’re visiting in winter, a small glass puts a rapid injection of warmth into the body.

One unusual Krakow feature is the corvid commuter run. Early in the morning, vast quantities of rooks fly in from the neighbouring countryside, accompanied by quite a few jackdaw outriders. In the evening, they all head off again. It’s a spectacular sight and while you see plenty of these birds in the parks and gardens, you wonder how the city accommodates such enormous numbers and where they all go.

1,670 kilometres from home

1,670 kilometres from home

Unfortunately, Krakow seems to have become something of a magnet for stag weekends, so a visit during the week is not a bad move. Still, nobody with any interest in culture (or indeed decent pubs) should find themselves on too much of a collision course. Life is too short to spend hours sitting in a faux-English pub drinking bad beer.