I have had Conrad’s Lord Jim in mind as one of my favourite novels since I first read it, close to twenty years ago. I remember it as the perfect mix of excitement, exoticism, storytelling, and idea. It was a perfect book to me. It was what I wanted to do, as a writer. I was convinced it was the greatest novel. I recommended it to everyone, I loved to talk about it.
Now,these many moons later, I have no idea, really, if this is remotely right. I haven’t really looked at it since then. I don’t remember what it’s about, except that its in India, or Thailand, or someplace hot and east. I remember the set-up for Jim. I remember the shell story, or the storyteller, at least (Marlowe? The same storyteller as Heart of Darkness, I think).
I don’t remember the story.
So, I’m reading it again.