The "Other" in Colonial-Imperialistic Literature: Looking at Conrad's Heart of Darkness & Forster's Passage to India

In Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness and E.M. Forrester's Passage to India, central characters experience deep, shattering encounters with something that refuses to be defined by European and Western philosophy, something that is beyond their capacity to understand, map, or codify. Both Kurtz in Darkness and Mrs. Moore in Passage encounter what many critics and post-colonial scholars refer to as the colonial 'other', a construct created by colonial writers in their attempts to deal with a specter of being that was foreign to them; Eastern, non-Western, alien, and therefore unknowable and unsettling.

According to this school of thought, as part of the 'Imperial Project', (the colonization of third world countries), European writers, (either knowingly or instinctually, being part of the 'Project' themselves), created binary conflicts within their novels consistently portraying the native 'other' as something that was inherently savage, threatening, and impinging upon the civilized world. Many novels have been placed within the canon of "colonial writings", or novels that push forward the idealology of the 'Imperial Project'; Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Dafoe; Kim, by Rudyard Kipling, and the aforementioned works Heart of Darkness and Passage to India, by Conrad and Forster, respectively.

However, while novels like Robinson Crusoe and Kim are whole-heartedly imperialistic in nature, even enthusiastically so, both Heart of Darkness and Passage to India are written on a more complex level, expressing not only discomfort with the colonial 'other' but also discomfort about the future relationship between colonized and colonizer. In Heart of Darkness, the 'other' that Kurtz and Marlow encounter is savage, wildly powerful, and ultimately threatening to the order, efficiency, and stability of colonizer and colonization.

The fear of "going native" is almost palpable in the downward-spiraling conversion of Kurtz. The novel expresses the fear and anxiety that this 'other' is something that has the strength to overwhelm and overpower, and that the force of colonialism is barely holding this wild, untamed native vitality in check with its order and forms and practices.

Its narrative does express concerns about the nature of colonialism and its atrocities; however, it is still an imperial narrative, told by one who, though obviously worried about the future of imperialism, cannot think far enough outside the paradigm of imperial and colonial thought to imagine a future without the necessity of colonialism. To Conrad, the "other" is wild and fearsome, inferior perhaps in civility and intellect but not necessarily in strength or will, and the only future he can conceive is a colonial one, though he expresses reservations, concerns, and worries about such a future in Heart of Darkness.

The India in Forster's Passage to India is a much more complex one than the India presented in Kipling's Kim. Throughout Kim, the relationships are once again fairly binary; Kim is awarded status among the Indians because of the white blood that flows through is veins, (though it is Irish blood and not English blood, and the discrepancy is noted within the narrative), and he finds purpose in governmental service as a secret spy, traversing and "mapping" India during his adventures. It is through his service that he grows to become a man, and he enjoys all of his advantages gained in the novel through the inheritance of his "non-Indianness" and his service to the colonizer.

The India in Passage to India is much more complex; and it at least attempts to look at the relationship between colonizers and colonized, its narrative expressing a concern about future relations between Indian and English. It asks the question of whether or not Indian and English can ever truly co-exist, but even for all its attempts, it is still written from an imperialistic perspective, from within the Imperial Project. In some respects, it goes farther than Heart of Darkness; Fielding is a much more open-minded and thoughtful examiner of the native relationship with the colonizer than Marlow, and his personal relationship with Dr. Aziz intertwines him with the Indian perspective more personally than Marlow and the natives in Darkness.

However, in the end, even Passage falls short of breaking free completely from its colonial constraints in several places; Aziz falling into a simple, binary, didactic personality by the end of the novel, and Fielding, though crafted as a sympathetic character who wishes to understand India, is too often used as a white and English character expressing the voice of reason and moderation; hence, it is only an open-minded "Englishman" who sees the truth of things. Perhaps, even given all of his intent and desire to understand the "muddle of India", E.M. Forster himself finds something utterly alien and undecipherable about the colonial "other", as portrayed through Mrs.

Moore. Like Kurtz, it can be argued that Mrs. Moore never recovers from her damaging encounter with the 'other' in the Marabar Caves, just as Kurtz is overwhelmed completely, falling into the dark seductive trap of "going native"; Mrs. Moore's grip on the world as she knows it, her faith, and her idealism is undercut by the growing realization that perhaps there is a looming 'nothingness' behind and beneath all she's ever believed and held true to her heart, negating it all.

While the two novels are similar in that both narratives feature disarming and disturbing encounters with a colonial "other"; the form the "other" takes in each novel is different. In Heart of Darkness, this "other" is seen as a vital, throbbing, savage force of primal nature; given an identity, a face, a personage in the wild, "black limbed" natives that Marlow sees dancing along the riverbed during their journey to retrieve Kurtz. It overwhelms the order and precision of colonialism in Kurtz and his encampment, and Kurtz becomes lost within this savage maelstrom, going "native" and setting himself up as a ruler in a wild land, even taking a new, native wife as part of his savage transformation.

In Passage to India, Mrs. Moore's alarming, disconcerting encounter with the colonial 'other' is almost the antithesis to the 'other' of Conrad's Africa; it is something elusive, seen-but-not-seen; there-but-not-there, a reflection of a 'nothingness' that flies in the face of the Western proclivity for definition and naming and constructions. India is presented as a "muddle"; a riddle with little or no answers, and what answers can be found are contradictory in and of themselves, creating a meaning with no meaning. Mrs. Moore is greatly troubled, her Christian perspectives vexed on a fundamental level by the haunting suggestion that after a lifetime lived under the perception that there is meaning and order to the ways of things, there really is no order, no meaning, no 'way', even; there is only a nothingness that utterly consumes and defies description, definition, or explanation.

Both representations of the "other", however, share a key element in their primeval, pre-existing natures in relation to the interloping colonizer. The "other" in both of these novels has been around for centuries, and is largely indifferent to them or their constructions of meaning. In Heart of Darkness, traveling down the river was like "traveling back to the beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted and the big trees were kings", (Conrad 55), and Marlow thinks of he and his companions as "wanderers on a prehistoric earth, on an earth that wore the aspect of an unknown planet.

We could have fancied ourselves the first of men taking possession of an accursed inheritance" (59). Stacked up against these walls of trees and primordial surroundings, Marlow likens the boat to a sluggish beetle crawling on the floor in their irrelevance to this primordial force; it was something that "made you feel very small, very lost…" (58). Marlow expects "the wilderness to burst into a prodigious peal of laughter" (82) at the idea that Kurtz owned everything; that in fact Africa's ivory was his ivory.

Likewise, Mrs. Moore in Passage is frightened by what she finds in the Marabar Caves; as she connects or experiences an "other" that is far older than she, pre-dating her Christian beliefs, deconstructive of anything she finds to be true, and indifferent to her in any case. She has found something in the caves that is "…very old and very small. Before time, it was before space also" (Forster 231). She finds her thoughts, perceptions, and ideals challenged by an indifferent India stretching back into antiquity, (Gallows 2), and all of her experience is dwarfed by something that is devoid of meaning or expression; a dark mirror that only reflects back the limitations of her own ideologies (2).

Unlike other novels that have been classified as colonial; such as Robinson Crusoe and Kim, the "other" as presented in Condrad's Heart of Darkness is alive, wild, and savagely triumphant. Though characters in other colonial novels, most notably Dafoe's Robinson Crusoe, express anxiety about the alien "otherness" of surroundings that are not English and therefore strange and different, the "other" depicted in Darkness is stronger and awarded a fiercer will, capable of bursting free from its colonial restraints at a moment's notice. In Robinson Crusoe, Crusoe experiences many moments of anxiety concerning this "otherness".

As soon as he recovers from his marooning, his "thoughts were now wholly employ'd about securing my self against either Savages, if any should appear, or wild Beasts" (Dafoe, 55); he desperately cuts notches into a wooden post to mark the passing of the days, out of his fear that he should lose his grip on the order and structure of civilized life if he were to "lose my Reckoning of Time….and should even forget the Sabbath Days from the working days" (58), he sets about ordering his world around him to something more familiar and less unordered, (63), dispelling the uncanny alienness of his surroundings, and he fortifies his encampment with a wall, for he "thought I should never be perfectly secure 'till this wall was finish'd" (71). His anxiety about his "out-of-place" condition is most vividly presented when he comes across the footprint in the sand; a haunting realization that he is not alone that sends him cowering into his encampment for days upon end.

However, in each instance Robinson overcomes his fears and anxieties by re-making the world around him, in "his own image", as the case may be. He conquers the land by raising crops, breeding livestock and expanding his encampment; he successful converts the savage Friday to a loyal subject ready to die at a whim, and the 'other' in Crusoe is something that is ultimately meant to be conquered and ordered; though it may provide moments of anxiety over its unfamiliarity along the way, its conquest by Crusoe/colonization an inevitable, forgone conclusion.

In Heart of Darkness, however, the depiction of the 'other' is much more vivid and encroaching. While Crusoe experiences moments of anxiety that are eventually triumphed over, Conrad presents us an image of something native, primeval, and powerful; a looming, tangible presence that quite literally stalks the reader and Marlow all throughout the narrative:

Going up the river was like traveling back into the earliest beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted on the earth and the big trees were kings. An empty stream, a great silence, an impenetrable forest. The air was warm, thick, heavy, sluggish. There was no joy in the brilliance of sunshine. The long stretches of the waterway ran on, deserted, into the gloom of overshadowed distances. On silvery sand-banks hippos and alligators sunned themselves side by side. The broadening waters flowed through a mob of wooded; you lost you way on that river as you would in a desert, and butted all day long against shoals, trying to find the channel, till you thought yourself bewitched and cut off for ever from everything you had known once - somewhere - far away - in another existence perhaps…..And this stillness of life did not in the least resemble a peace. It was the stillness of an implacable force brooding over an inscrutable intention. It looked at you with vengeful aspect. (Conrad 56)

The narrator in Darkness, Marlow, feels the eyes of the 'other' upon him all the time, even though he claims to have gotten used to it (56), because of having to pilot the boat down the channel and all the busy activity that such a thing entails. However, even in that, he senses a deeper, underlying truth to things that is luckily hidden (56), but even so, "I felt it all the same; I felt often its mysterious stillness watching me at my monkey tricks…" (56). For Marlow, the 'other' is "a burst of yells, a whirl of black limbs, a mass of hands clapping, of feet stamping, of bodies swaying, of eyes rolling" (59), their little, threatened steamer chugging away on the edge of a "black and incomprehensible frenzy" (59).

Most startling for Marlow, perhaps, is not necessarily the inhumanity of their surroundings, but the implied suggestion that through a shared history of humanity, and their potential kinship with something so inhuman (59). In pondering upon this connection, Marlow thinks with perhaps a creeping, crawling sensation along the spine:

It was unearthly, and the men were - No, they were not inhuman. Well, you know, that was the worst of it - this suspicion of their (savages) not being inhuman. It would come slowly to one. They howled and leaped, and spun, and made horrid faces; but what thrilled you was just the thought of their humanity - like yours - the thought of your remote kinship with this wild and passionate uproar. Ugly. (59)

When Marlow finally reaches Kurtz's camp…ergo, the heart of the darkness of the Congo….the sensation in the narrative that there is something else out there; something much greater than Crusoe's man Friday or the savages in Crusoe intensifies. Marlow awakes in the darkness at Kurtz's encampment, decides to look around, and his presented with an image of the 'other' in this novel. Though a colonial presence is there in the guards who watch the stockpile of ivory, just beyond them:

..deep within the forest, red gleams that wavered, that seemed to sink and rise from the ground amongst confused columnar shapes of intense blackness…the monotonous beating of a big drum filled the air with muffled shocks and a lingering vibration. A steady droning sound of many men chanting to himself some weird incantation came out from the black, flat wall of woods as the humming of bees comes out of a hive, and had a strange narcotic effect upon my half-awake senses. (108)

Even at the end of the novel, after Marlow has returned to England and given a message to Kurtz's Intended, the "other" of the Congo has followed him there, making the visitor now visited by the specter of his experiences in Africa. After he ceases in his tale at the end of the narrative, the listeners look out at the sky and see "The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed sombre under an overcast sky - seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness" (132).

As post-colonial studies has come to the forefront of literary thought and discipline, the racist and imperialistic tendencies of Darkness has garnered much attention over the intervening years…perhaps too much, as suggested by Said in Culture & Imperialism, outweighing some of the strengths of the novel itself, especially when considered in relation to its context both politically, culturally, and geographically. Nonetheless, depending on who is listening, mentioning Heart of Darkness and Conrad is bound to draw detractions about racism and colonial, imperialistic thinking. African critics, such as Chinua Achebe, have pointed out that "the story can be read as a racist or colonial parable in which Africans are depicted as inanely irrational and violent, and in which Africa itself is reduced to a metaphor for white Europeans fear for themselves…that Africa is a 'heart of darkness', where whites 'go native', releasing the 'savages' within themselves (Brians 1).
Achebe claims Heart of Darkness projects Africa as "the other world"; a place that in the novel was the anti-thesis of Europe/civilization, where "man's vaunted intelligence and refinement are finally mocked by triumphant beastiality" (Achiebe 2). It is not the binary comparison between Africa and the rest of the "civilized" world that Achebe finds so alarming but the fact that Conrad portrays Marlow's real anxiety: the fact that there might be some shared kinship with this wildness, long ago. Achebe points to Marlow's reference to the Imperial Project as it was under Rome, early in the book, when the "Romans first came here, nineteen hundred years ago - the other day - Light came out of this river since….we live in the flicker (of the light) - may it last as long as the old earth keeps rolling! But darkness was here yesterday" (Conrad 7), as a binary contrast, "we were once dark like that too, until some other greater power brought us to the light". Achebe stresses that this makes the meaning of Heart of Darkness; the horrid fascination that Africa holds over the Western Mind. - "What thrilled you was just the thought of their humanity - like yours - the thought of your remote kinship with this wild and passionate uproar. Ugly" (59).

Achebe also asserts that while Conrad, as expressed by Marlow, may experience qualms or distaste over the treatment of native Africans, Conrad writes nothing and Marlow does nothing out of the ordinary colonial mindset. There is ample foundation for this assertion within the narrative; when Marlow contends early on in his story that…

The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look at it too much. What redeems it is the idea only. An idea at the back of it; not a sentimental pretence but an idea; and an unselfish belief in the idea - something you can set up to, and bow down before, and offer sacrifice to… (9)

Especially telling in that quote that lends Achebe's argument strength is the claim that colonialism is not such "a pretty thing when you look at it too much" (9); ergo, thought about it and its necessary consequences too much. Also telling is Marlow's…perhaps speaking for Conrad….belief in the idea of colonialism itself; something that "you can set up to, and bow down before, and offer sacrifice to" (9), and that perhaps the distaste he expresses or feels for the treatment of the natives he encounters along the way is only his distaste of the way its being carried out in this case, and not colonialism itself.

Marlow's expression that the cannibals were "fine fellows - in their place", especially because they "did not eat each other before my face", seems an indication of the racist flavor of the novel as well. He sees "proper" colonialism as an improvement on some of the savages, especially the one who works the vertical boiler on the boat. One cannot help to feel tugged towards Achebe's indictment of the novel when reading the following description of this "improved specimen":

He was an improved specimen; he could fire up a vertical boiler. He was there below me, and, upon my word, to look at him was as edifying as seeing a dog in a parody of breeches and a feather hat, walking on his hind-legs. A few months of training had done for that really fine chap……He ought to have been clapping his hands and stamping his feet on the bank, instead of which he was hard at work, a thrall to strange witchcraft (the boiler), full of improving knowledge. He was useful because he had been instructed…. (61)

However, the novel is not simply as clear cut racist and imperialistic as Achebe would have us believe. According to David Schwartz, author of Rereading Conrad, it is important to understand that the narrator Marlow's viewpoints are not necessarily Conrad's, especially given the narrative structure; an outside narrator observing the present and perhaps more educated, (albeit woefully so), Marlow narrating his tale when he was less seasoned, more idealistic and naïve about imperialism and all of its necessary brutalities (22) Because of this narrator-within a narrator structure, much of the narrative is a dramatization of a perspective that Conrad uses ironically (22). Also, it's helpful to place Darkness in the proper cultural context; the story speaks of a breakdown in moral compass, "slipism"; all turn-of-the-century concerns (23).

Likewise, Marlow as a character, while expressing ideas reflected in the above passage that are racist and strongly pro-imperialistic, also seems intensely at odd with the ramifications of what must be done to keep the colonial "other" in check. He does not present the treatment of African natives in an idealized view; these are not "my man Fridays" who are eminently grateful for being saved from their godless savagery and made useful, ready to die at their masters whims. He describes in haunting and grim fashion a work-detail chained together by leg irons, (24), and expresses rather cynical views concerning the ivory trade as he presents the wildness and "other" as "patiently waiting for the passing away of this fantastic invasion" (37).

Most vivid is the passage when Marlow first lands in Africa, on the outskirts, before he travels down the river to find Kurtz. The passage seems at odds with the ideals that Achebe points to as being racist - other than the fact that one could read it as natives being too inferior to mount any kind of useful, meaningful resistance - because it hardly seems to be the glorified, "useful savage" promotion of imperialism. Marlow has in mind to stroll, looking for shade to rest in, when he happens to find himself stepping into what he calls "the gloomy circle of some Inferno" (26). A play on words alluding to Dante's Inferno, perhaps?

Black shapes crouched, lay, sat between the trees leaning against the trunks, clinging to the earth, half coming out, half effaced within the dim light, in all the attitudes of pain, abandonment, and despair….The work was going on. The work! And this was he place where some of the helpers had withdrawn to die. They were dying slowly - it was very clear. They were not enemies, they were not criminals, they were nothing earthly now - nothing but black shadows of disease and starvation, lying confusedly in the greenish gloom. Brought from all the recesses of the coast in all the legality of time contracts, lost in uncongenial surroundings, fed on unfamiliar food, they sickened, became inefficient, and were then allowed to crawl away and rest. (26)

Near the same tree two more bundles of acute angles sat with their legs drawn up. One, with his chin propped on his knees, stared at nothing, in an intolerable and appalling manner: his brother phantom rested its forehead, as if overcome with a great weariness; and all about the others were scattered in every pose of contorted collapse, as in some picture of a massacre or a pestilence. While I stood horror-struck, one of these creatures rose to his hands and knees, and went off on all fours to the river to drink. (27)

Though Achebe would most likely resent the image of Africa and Africans as a "black shadows of disease and starvation", this presents an author and narrator who is at conflict with what he sees, and even though the narrative never quite breaks free of its imperialistic roots, as Edward Said mentions in Culture and Imperialism, Conrad/Marlow is not a wholly racist and imperialistic figure; they trouble themselves over the idealology and state of imperialism and are conflicted by it (29).

Without absolving the novel of its representation of imperial mastery; the mastery of white Europeans over black Africans and their ivory; the mastery of civilization over the primitive dark continent, (Said 29), Said asserts that the Marlow, Kurtz, and inevitably Conrad's perspectives are different than that of other colonial narratives in that they are extremely self-conscious about their position as colonizers, as seen through Marlow's eyes (23). Said argues that Heart of Darkness must be looked at in context of the times; it was a white-ruled world. Freedom was for whites; lesser non-whites and non-
Europeans were meant to be subjugated, and all science, learning, history, and enlightenment flowed from the west, so Said posits that Conrad simply could not have used Marlow in any other way (24). The best that he could do was present Marlow as someone like himself, (a Polish expatriate), an outsider; someone not part of the machine but because of their observer status able to comprehend and study the machine from his distant vantage point.

This is a tragic limitation, because though Conrad could, on one level, see Imperialism for what it was, he couldn't imagine anything past the idea of colonialism; Africa and nations like it are still destined to be colonized and ruled (30). He was able to critique the system that had enslaved the natives; he was able to show the violence and the misery that necessarily accompanied colonialism, and he is also able to show that there is something in the native that is laudable; that is worthy, especially given that he makes much ado about the natives "admirable restraint" concerning their cannibalism, while they portray Kurtz as a man who has no restraint or has lost his restraint (Johnson 37). "…Mr. Kurtz lacked restraint in the gratification of his various lusts, that there was something wanting in him" (Conrad 96). However, Conrad, a man of his times, simply could not quite see to set them free in his novel.

However, even given Said's interpretation, there is ample evidence in the text to still lend weight to Achebe's argument that for all of Conrad's masterful narrative, the reader is left with an ultimately corrupting Africa that pries and claws at the minds of rational, white European men, eventually driving them mad with their primeval, primitive force. Though one can make much of the comparison of the restraint of the native's cannibalistic tastes versus Kurtz's loss of restraint, the wilderness of the Congo is clearly portrayed as what has caused him to lose his way, ergo we are back to the idea that there is the racist tenor to the book, claiming that Africa and all things non-European, though full of powerful, resilient primordial energy, are inherently corrupting and base. There is an insidious undertone in Marlow stating that "powers of darkness" - the darkness being that of Africa - "claimed them for their own" (82). Also, Kurtz has taken a "high seat amongst the devils of the land" (82) - the devils being the natives, or perhaps even the 'other' of Africa?

Most telling is the following passage Marlow relates upon finding Kurtz:

But the wilderness found him out early, and had taken on him a terrible vengeance for the fantastic invasion. I think it had whispered to him things about himself which he did not know, things of which he had no conception till he took the counsel with this great solitude - and the whisper had proved irresistible fascinating. It echoed loudly within him because he was hollow at the core…. (98).

Again, we are presented with a Kurtz that is hollow, devoid of a strong set of his own values, and this is why Africa pushes him free from his moorings; but it is Africa doing the pushing; doing the whispering, enticing with its fantastic, primordial knowledge that inherently unlooses and unhinges.

Perhaps the best way to look at Conrad's intentions is to imagine that he was writing about imperialism in the best way he knew how; that he was deeply concerned on a fundamental level about the implications of colonialism and the necessary, god-like barbarism that came with it, (Johnson 70), and that Conrad considered colonialism, like Marlow considered Kurtz, an "insoluble problem":

He was an insoluble problem. It was inconceivable how he had existed, how he had succeeded in getting so far, how he had managed to remain - why he did not instantly disappear. (Conrad 92)

Passage to India presents India in much the same way as Conrad's Africa; too large, too incomprehensible to ever be understood (Said 201). Forster states in the narrative of Passage that "nothing in India is identifiable; the mere asking of question causes it to disappear or to merge in something else" (201). Even though Fielding is a much more sympathetic and perhaps intuitive character than Marlow, he is unfortunately defeated in this novel by India's largeness and incomprehensibility. He tries to understand Aziz; tries to understand India, but is in the end rejected, and while even though Mrs. Moore penetrates into something of the 'other' of India, she is very clearly traumatized by the experience, perhaps irrevocably so (202-203).

Forster, like Conrad, is writing about imperialism as best he can. Both Godbole and Aziz are acknowledged as showing resistance to Empire, (201), and even though Fielding comes off as a white European who of course knows better, Forster writes him with a much stronger sense of opposition than the somewhat voyeuristic, touristy observer Marlow. Forster portrays that perhaps growth is possible with the recantation of Adela's accusations and the eventual healing between Fielding and Aziz at the end of the novel, but in many ways the novel is helpless; it doesn't go far enough in either direction. Mrs. Moore has a deep, deep experience with India's 'other', but she cannot recover and is left empty and drifting, and though Fielding wants to understand, he does so only superficially, and never encounters the 'other' as Mrs. Moore does (203). The novel waffles in the middle; it neither condemns nor defends British colonialism; it doesn't condemn or defend Indian nationalism (203 - 204).

Forster focuses most on the aspect of cultural misunderstandings as being the cause for stereotypes and boundaries, (Galloway, 1), and it is in this that the novel at least accomplishes more in the way of dealing with colonialism than other colonial novels like Kim or Robinson Crusoe, or even Heart of Darkness, for that matter. Forster presents misunderstandings on many levels; differing ideas concerning cultural expectations about hospitality, social properties, and the role of religion in daily life (1).

The Marabar Caves are central to novel; for it is there, like the Africa's Congo in Heart of Darkness, where a European is presented with the colonial 'other' and comes undone, never to recover. However, unlike the 'other' in the Heart of Darkness, India's 'other' is not something that is savage and wild, speaking to the primitive parts of man; the 'other' in the Marabar Caves is something old, ancient, and indifferent to even the best that British colonialism has to offer in Mrs. Moore (2). The Caves are an impersonal entity; dark and empty, echoing back that nothing has meaning; not idealism, gentility or Christian virtues.

Bibliography

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http://www.erinyes.org/hod/image.of.africa.html
2. Brians, Paul ed. Reading About the World, Volume 2. Harcourt Brace Custom Books.
1998
http://www.wsu.edu:8080/~wldciv/world_civ_reader/world_civ_reader_2/conrad.html,

3. Conrad, Joseph. Heart of Darkness. Bantam Books, NY 1981

4. Dafoe, Daniel. Robinson Crusoe. Modern Library, NY 2001

5. Dover, Richard. "A Passage to India" NEWI School of Education & Humanities http://www.newi.ac.uk/rdover/between/passage.htm

6. Forster, E.M. A Passage to India. Harcourt & Brace, New York 1984

7. Galloway, Shirely. "A Passage to India" Shirl's Site. 1995
http://www.cyberpat.com/shirlsite/essays/india.html

8. Johnson, Bruce. Conrad's Models of the Mind. University of Minnesota Press,
Minneapolis 1971

9. Said, Edward. Culture and Imperialism. Alfred A Knopff, New York 1993