As a political novel, Nostromo is strong work. After reading a novel, I typically do a quick internet search, looking for summaries, essays, and commentary. In doing so after reading Nostromo, I located a website www.nostromoonline.com. The website, created by Matthew Waller, a self-described 41 year old technical writer, is devoted entirely to the novel. Waller posted an essay, in which he describes the novel’s characters as representations – allegorical symbols of socio-political concepts. Frankly, I breezed through the essay quickly. Yet, I read enough to, in a general sense, agree with Waller: the reader is made to understand the characters primarily through their relationship to political situations in Conrad’s fictitious South American nation of Costa Guana. In this, Waller takes a stronger stance than I. To assume that the characters “are” representations of a grand concept, and that Conrad meant them as such, seems an inferential leap. But, it is certainly true that Nostromo is about large political themes, and the characters are understood partly through their associations to these themes. One could, in primitive manner, identify each theme, and identify asssociated characters - as in Western capitalism = Charles Gould, Third World political instability = General Montero, Third World idealism (tinged with modernism) = Martin DeCoud, grassroots populism = Nostromo. The characters are not hollow or simple – in particular, Conrad adds considerable depth to the Nostromo and DeCoud characters. Yet, the strength of Nostromo lies more in political description than character development.

In presenting political themes, Conrad displays an undercurrent of pessimism. Or, perhaps I am inaccurately imputing this, based on Conrad’s nuanced, realistic description of political turbulence in Costa Guana. Imagine reading a newspaper article describing political instability in a non-Western country, sighing, and lamenting greed and violence that, to the unattached observer, seems unfortunate, senseless, and perpetual. Nostromo produces this effect. In my view, this was Conrad’s intent. For example, in the second part of the novel, Conrad devotes considerable space to Martin DeCoud’s ruminations. Key to these sections is the internal conflict that DeCoud was experiencing. He was a publicly vocal optimistic with grand separatist ambitions, yet had some doubts about these ambitions. Ultimately, in one of the novel’s key resolutions, DeCoud fails to reach his political goals.

For all the violence and political chaos embedded in the story line, Conrad spends little time describing battles or warfare. Most of the text is devoted to narrative description. Stylistically, Nostromo is somewhat unique. The events unfold in a fairly straightforward, linear manner. But, as the events unfold, they are described alongside rich, detailed, character narratives. The reader learns a great deal about the biographical backgrounds and ideologies of the characters. At times, it was almost as if key events were secondary to these descriptions – “Oh, by the way there is a political rebellion, now back to Emily Gould”.

Apparently, critics have panned the novel’s conclusion. I agree with this criticism. There was an odd, disjointed feel to the last sections of Nostromo. The emphasis shifts from sweeping political issues, to a personal moral dilemma predicated partly on “romance.” Despite this, on the whole, I can understand the acclaim for Nostromo that offsets this criticism.