"I have a voice, too, and for good or evil mine is the speech that cannot be silenced." 
 A man named Marlow sets off on a steamship down the River Thames in search of a man named Kurtz. His quest takes him deep into the late 1800's Africa, and (assuming I grasp some of the symbolism) into the darkness of the human psyche. 
 Welcome to the jungle. You may want to keep the Cliff Notes and other illuminating materials handy--It's going to be a bumpy ride. 
 If this weren't such a classic, I'd be tempted to call it experimental fiction with a narrative non-fiction feel. The story is told in a sort of tangential continuum. There aren't really chapters, just a few vaguely dividing sections told in the main character's semi-rambling voice. While the size of the work is novella small, it's understandable if readers find the dense and unbroken blocks of text a bit daunting. Conrad is expressing a sort of disjointed poetical metaphor, and he does so with vivid imagery, entrancing prose, and sometimes perplexing structure choices. 
 I read this book with almost no sense of context, which was a mistake on my part. I thought I could just read it out of hand and figure things out as I went. Nope. Not until the end did I finally get a feel for what I was taking in. And even then, I couldn't decide how much of it was giving me literary indigestion. So allow me to spare you at least some of my enduring confusion... 
 Heart of Darkness is fictionalized account of Colonial Africa. It was written by the English Novelist and Master Mariner, Joseph Conrad, in 1899. (It now feels important to add that English was not the Polish-born author's first language.) Although it IS fiction, it also represents a reflective examination of Conrad's personal experiences. Hired to take a steamship into Africa, he'd seen firsthand the horrendousness of colonial rule--and clearly, had to come to terms with just how tenuous the hold of "civilized" behavior truly is. 
 "They were conquerors, and for that you want only brute force--nothing to boast of, when you have it, since your strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of others." 
 While I admit knowing this background ahead of time may have helped my initial comprehension, I don't think it would have particularly improved my level of enjoyment. This tale intentionally skirts the edge of lucidity and insanity. To that end, Conrad's style and execution is effective. Although it also comes off a bit stilted, muddled, and ambiguous in its conclusion. 
 If you appreciate a psychologically bleak look into the potential evils of humankind, this book will probably strike you better than it did me. I'm still not entirely clear on its ultimate point, but I don't discount that it carries some value. Even if that value is limited to the moral dissonance of man who witnessed things he couldn't reconcile with his conscience. 
 I think this quote perfectly sums up the literary taste this book left in my mind: 
 "Droll thing life is -- that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose. The most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself -- that comes too late -- a crop of inextinguishable regrets."