1.
modernizm'in önemli temsilcilerinden polon asıllı ingiliz yazar joseph conrad tarafından yazılmış olan roman. xix. yüzyılın ikinci yarısında, fransa'nın en ünlü liman kentlerinden biri olan marsilya'da geçer ana hikaye. la terza guerra carlista döneminde madrid dükü carlo maria di borbone-spagna'yı destekleyen karakter etrafında dönen ana hikaye, olayların da merkezinde olan gizemli ve belirsiz bir anlatıcı tarafından aktarılır. conrad'ın pek çok hikaye, öykü ve romanında -emperyalizm'e eleştiriler sunduğu heart of darkness, pişmanlığın insan üzerine etkisini muhteşem bir betimleme ile aktardığı lord jim, yarı-otobiyografik bir öykü olan ve marlow'un adının ilk kez resmi olarak geçtiği youth ve flora de barral gibi muhteşem bir karaktere sahip olan chance- olan okuyucunun karşısına çıkardığı yinelenen bir karakter olan denizci charles marlow, the arrow of gold'un belirsiz anlatıcısı olmaya çok uygun olsa da -ki düşünce biçimleri çok benzerdir- kesinliği çok belirsiz. bana kalırsa conrad yalnızca eski karakterlerine alışıldık bir bağlılık gösterdiğinden ötürü istemsizce bu belirsiz anlatıcı marlow'un izlerini taşıyordu ama marlow değildi. conrad'ın kendine has karmaşık bir sadeliğin* ürünü olan üslubu, bazen olaydan koparacak kadar abartılı olan betimlemeleri ile -ki bu yine de conrad'a özgü bir güzelliktir- gerçek anlamda okunması gerekenler listesinden başı çeken conrad eserlerinden biri. conrad'ın isimsiz lord için i. arbelaiz kontu tirso de olazábal'dan esinlenildiği de söylenmekte.
"it was a kind of deaf-and-dumb house. the black-and-white hall was empty and everything was perfectly still. blunt himself had no doubt gone away with his mother in the brougham, but as to the others, the dancing girls, therese, or anybody else that its walls may have contained, they might have been all murdering each other in perfect assurance that the house would not betray them by indulging in any unseemly murmurs. i emitted a low whistle which didn’t seem to travel in that peculiar atmosphere more than two feet away from my lips, but all the same rose came tripping down the stairs at once. with just a nod to my whisper: “take a fiacre,” she glided out and i shut the door noiselessly behind her." p.139
"i felt suddenly extremely exhausted, absolutely overcome with fatigue since i had moved; as if to sit on that pompeiian chair had been a task almost beyond human strength, a sort of labour that must end in collapse. i fought against it for a moment and then my resistance gave way. not all at once but as if yielding to an irresistible pressure (for i was not conscious of any irresistible attraction) i found myself with my head resting, with a weight i felt must be crushing, on doña rita’s shoulder which yet did not give way, did not flinch at all. a faint scent of violets filled the tragic emptiness of my head and it seemed impossible to me that i should not cry from sheer weakness. but i remained dry-eyed. i only felt myself slipping lower and lower and i caught her round the waist clinging to her not from any intention but purely by instinct. all that time she hadn’t stirred. there was only the slight movement of her breathing that showed her to be alive; and with closed eyes i imagined her to be lost in thought, removed by an incredible meditation while i clung to her, to an immense distance from the earth. the distance must have been immense because the silence was so perfect, the feeling as if of eternal stillness. i had a distinct impression of being in contact with an infinity that had the slightest possible rise and fall, was pervaded by a warm, delicate scent of violets and through which came a hand from somewhere to rest lightly on my head. presently my ear caught the faint and regular pulsation of her heart, firm and quick, infinitely touching in its persistent mystery, disclosing itself into my very ear—and my felicity became complete. ıt was a dreamlike state combined with a dreamlike sense of insecurity." p.156
"it was a kind of deaf-and-dumb house. the black-and-white hall was empty and everything was perfectly still. blunt himself had no doubt gone away with his mother in the brougham, but as to the others, the dancing girls, therese, or anybody else that its walls may have contained, they might have been all murdering each other in perfect assurance that the house would not betray them by indulging in any unseemly murmurs. i emitted a low whistle which didn’t seem to travel in that peculiar atmosphere more than two feet away from my lips, but all the same rose came tripping down the stairs at once. with just a nod to my whisper: “take a fiacre,” she glided out and i shut the door noiselessly behind her." p.139
"i felt suddenly extremely exhausted, absolutely overcome with fatigue since i had moved; as if to sit on that pompeiian chair had been a task almost beyond human strength, a sort of labour that must end in collapse. i fought against it for a moment and then my resistance gave way. not all at once but as if yielding to an irresistible pressure (for i was not conscious of any irresistible attraction) i found myself with my head resting, with a weight i felt must be crushing, on doña rita’s shoulder which yet did not give way, did not flinch at all. a faint scent of violets filled the tragic emptiness of my head and it seemed impossible to me that i should not cry from sheer weakness. but i remained dry-eyed. i only felt myself slipping lower and lower and i caught her round the waist clinging to her not from any intention but purely by instinct. all that time she hadn’t stirred. there was only the slight movement of her breathing that showed her to be alive; and with closed eyes i imagined her to be lost in thought, removed by an incredible meditation while i clung to her, to an immense distance from the earth. the distance must have been immense because the silence was so perfect, the feeling as if of eternal stillness. i had a distinct impression of being in contact with an infinity that had the slightest possible rise and fall, was pervaded by a warm, delicate scent of violets and through which came a hand from somewhere to rest lightly on my head. presently my ear caught the faint and regular pulsation of her heart, firm and quick, infinitely touching in its persistent mystery, disclosing itself into my very ear—and my felicity became complete. ıt was a dreamlike state combined with a dreamlike sense of insecurity." p.156
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