Product Description

(Book Jacket Status: Not Jacketed)

Introduction by Cedric Watts

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #339276 in Books
• Published on: 1991-11-26
• Released on: 1991-11-26
• Original language: English
• Binding: Hardcover
• 477 pages

Ingram
Conrad deftly depicts both the political turmoil in Russia in 1911 and its psychological repercussions in this novel about a student unwittingly caught in revolutionary intrigue. Attending St. Petersburg University, and industriously preparing himself for a career in the czarist bureaucracy, Razumov suddenly finds himself enmeshed in a secret plot. This newly edited version of one of Conrad's classic works demonstrates the turn-of-the-century writer's extraordinary grasp of traditional Russian literature and thought.

About the Author
Jeffrey Meyers, a distinguished biographer, is the author of Hemingway, D.H. Lawrence and Joseph Conrad. He lives in Berkeley, California.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
To begin with I wish to disclaim the possession of those high gifts of imagination and expression which would have enabled my pen to create for the reader the personality of the man who called himself, after the Russian custom, Cyril son of Isidor—Kirylo Sidorovitch—Razumov.

If I have ever had these gifts in any sort of living form they have been smothered out of existence a long time ago under a wilderness of words. Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality. I have been for many years a teacher of languages. It is an occupation which at length becomes fatal to whatever share of imagination, observation, and insight an ordinary person may be heir to. To a teacher of languages there comes a time when the world is but a place of many words and man appears a mere talking animal not much more wonderful than a parrot.

This being so, I could not have observed Mr. Razumov or guessed at his reality by the force of insight, much less have imagined him as he was. Even to invent the mere bald facts of his life would have been utterly beyond my powers. But I think that without this declaration the readers of these pages will be able to detect in the story the marks of documentary evidence. And that is perfectly correct. It is based on a document; all I have brought to it is my knowledge of the Russian language, which is sufficient for what is attempted here. The document, of course, is something in the nature of a journal, a diary, yet not exactly that in its actual form. For instance, most of it was not written up from day to day, though all the entries are dated. Some of these entries cover months of time and extend over dozens of pages. All the earlier part is a retrospect, in a narrative form, relating to an event which took place about a year before.

I must mention that I have lived for a long time in Geneva. A whole quarter of that town, on account of many Russians residing there, is called La Petite Russie—Little Russia. I had a rather extensive connexion in Little Russia at that time. Yet I confess that I have no comprehension of the Russian character. The illogicality of their attitude, the arbitrariness of their conclusions, the frequency of the exceptional, should present no difficulty to a student of many grammars; but there must be something else in the way, some special human trait—one of those subtle differences that are beyond the ken of mere professors. What must remain striking to a teacher of languages is the Russians’ extraordinary love of words. They gather them up; they cherish them, but they don’t hoard them in their breasts; on the contrary, they are always ready to pour them out by the hour or by the night with an enthusiasm, a sweeping abundance, with such an aptness of application sometimes that, as in the case of very accomplished parrots, one can’t defend oneself from the suspicion that they really understand what they say. There is a generosity in their ardour of speech which removes it as far as possible from common loquacity; and it is ever too disconnected to be classed as eloquence. . . . But I must apologize for this digression.

It would be idle to inquire why Mr. Razumov has left this record behind him. It is inconceivable that he should have wished any human eye to see it. A mysterious impulse of human nature comes into play here. Putting aside Samuel Pepys, who has forced in this way the door of immortality, innumerable people, criminals, saints, philosophers, young girls, statesmen, and simple imbeciles, have kept self-revealing records from vanity no doubt, but also from other more inscrutable motives. There must be a wonderful soothing power in mere words since so many men have used them for self-communion. Being myself a quiet individual I take it that what all men are really after is some form or perhaps only some formula of peace. Certainly they are crying loud enough for it at the present day. What sort of peace Kirylo Sidorovitch Razumov expected to find in the writing up of his record it passeth my understanding to guess.

The fact remains that he has written it.

Mr. Razumov was a tall, well-proportioned young man, quite unusually dark for a Russian from the Central Provinces. His good looks would have been unquestionable if it had not been for a peculiar lack of fineness in the features. It was as if a face modelled vigorously in wax (with some approach even to a classical correctness of type) had been held close to a fire till all sharpness of line had been lost in the softening of the material. But even thus he was sufficiently good-looking. His manner, too, was good. In discussion he was easily swayed by argument and authority. With his younger compatriots he took the attitude of an inscrutable listener, a listener of the kind that hears you out intelligently and then—just changes the subject.

This sort of trick, which may arise either from intellectual insufficiency or from an imperfect trust in one’s own convictions, procured for Mr. Razumov a reputation of profundity. Amongst a lot of exuberant talkers, in the habit of exhausting themselves daily by ardent discussion, a comparatively taciturn personality is naturally credited with reserve power. By his comrades at the St. Petersburg University, Kirylo Sidorovitch Razumov, third year’s student in philosophy, was looked upon as a strong nature—an altogether trustworthy man. This, in a country where an opinion may be a legal crime visited by death or sometimes by a fate worse than mere death, meant that he was worthy of being trusted with forbidden opinions. He was liked also for his amiability and for his quiet readiness to oblige his comrades even at the cost of personal inconvenience.

Mr. Razumov was supposed to be the son of an Archpriest and to be protected by a distinguished nobleman—perhaps of his own distant province. But his outward appearance accorded badly with such humble origin. Such a descent was not credible. It was, indeed, suggested that Mr. Razumov was the son of an Archpriest’s pretty daughter—which, of course, would put a different complexion on the matter. This theory also rendered intelligible the protection of the distinguished nobleman. All this, however, had never been investigated maliciously or otherwise. No one knew or cared who the nobleman in question was. Razumov received a modest but very sufficient allowance from the hands of an obscure attorney, who seemed to act as his guardian in some measure. Now and then he appeared at some professor’s informal reception. Apart from that Razumov was not known to have any social relations in the town. He attended the obligatory lectures regularly and was considered by the authorities as a very promising student. He worked at home in the manner of a man who means to get on, but did not shut himself up severely for that purpose. He was always accessible, and there was nothing secret or reserved in his life.


From the Trade Paperback edition.

Customer Reviews

Conrad Can't Stop A-Rockin
Conrad is a real star, I'm rather fond of him. Under Western Eyes is about living in a time of revolutionary urgency, individual fragility in a delicate system, and personal honor.

To summarize; Razumov, the 'Hero' is a university student in Russia post 1905 but pre 1917 who keeps to himself and has no real family and no close friends. A fellow student and a revolutionary, Victor Haldin, assasinates a local oppressive Tsarist autocrat. He then takes a chance and takes momentary asylum with Razumov, asking him to help him get out of the city. Razumov is an evolutionary progressive, not a revolutionary. Not willing to risk association with a radical like Haldin and destroy his entire life, Razumov turns him in to the police, and Haldin is subsequently hung.

The rest of the novel deals with Razumov's struggle with himself- he betrayed, and he has to live with a lie. Complicating things, he falls in love with Haldin's sister in exile. Raz can't bear it though, and eventually he does the right thing, but things get messy.

Thats the general plot, but the real meat of the novel is in the characters and the ideas underlying the conversations between them. The idea of how you justify revolution, the chaos of revolution vs the order of gradual reform, the unwillingness and helplessness of the individual caught in it all. And there's a continual theme of the diference between East and West.

Razumov reminds me a bit of Crime and Punishment's Raskolnikov- an isolated university student waxing the time away in a single apartment, brooding over Big Ideas and being slowly crushed by a powerful conscience. The stuff of modernity. Dostoyevsky was a little bit better, so thats why Under Western Eyes only gets 4 stars.

A dream and a fear
"Perhaps life is just that," reflected Razumov, pacing to and fro under the trees of the little island, all alone with the bronze statue of Rousseau. "A dream and a fear." It is on this small space of remote land that young Razumov finds what we all seek after--a place for quiet contemplation (reminds me of Hemingway's "A Clean Well-Lighted Place"). And in this very thought-provoking Rousseau-inspired environment Razumov stumbles upon the thesis that all of life is but a dream--a dream full of constant fear. The taciturn, exiled, young Razumov reminds us of Joyce's Stephen Dedalus, and even more so Dostoevsky's Raskolnikov. Indeed, Conrad attempted to continue the legacy of the great Russian novelists, by forcing an eclectic grasp on some of Dostoevsky's themes (like the need for, and final apparent conclusion of, man's suffering) whilst straying away from other Dostoevskyian qualities. All in all, Under Western Eyes is about ideas--as Conrad repeatedly suggests-an ideal gripping psychological tale of a young intellectual's suffering for choosing the path of the czarist leaders. If Razumov, like Stephen Dedalus, was more skeptical, more prone to the need for exile (not the exile he indeed does embark on to Geneva via the Councilor's strategic plan) would he have ultimately had his eardrums smashed by a revolutionary brute? Certainly, Razumov must confess for his betrayal of Haldin; Razumov realizes the intelligence, love, and raison d' étre of Haldin altogether too late. Razumov, who knowingly understands that because of his actions Haldin lost his life, gives up his own body for lifelong suffering. And by doing so, Razumov seems to willingly accept his punishment, and further he lives no longer in fear. Upon completion of this wonderful novel, we can bask in the warm sunny glow of Conrad's wit that shines upon us--"Peter Ivanovitch (or any person who opposes despotic cruelty) is an inspired man." Joseph Conrad is an inspired man.

A Comic-tragedy with a Political Backdrop
If you are familiar enough with Conrad's writing you will know he has a few favorite words - like "inscrutable" and "destiny". They reflect I believe Conrad's literary outlook. He likes to take characters, give them a haunted past with some shameful secret, emphasize a fatal weakness, introduce some culminating stimulae, and watch the tragic unfold. I think he could have written a brilliant biography of Richard Nixon. But to the point..."Under Western Eyes" is a quintessentially Conradian book. But unlike many of his other novels - Lord Jim, Nostromo, Victory - "Under Western Eyes" treats of period politics (namely the revolutionary movement on the rise in Europe) as he weaves his tale of betrayal and tragedy. There are no heroes in this book (save perhaps one) but only a motley collection of victims, fools, and eccentrics. There is not much action, despite its subject matter. I don't want to give away too much. The story unfolds in Moscow and Geneva, not around political machinations but around the tragedy of the central character, a young Russian thrown into the revolutionary movement entirely against his will. The saga of the young man's anger, self-loathing, and attempts to extricate himself from his "situation" form one salient plot of the novel. The ultimate solution to his unsought conundrum also serves to redeem him in his own eyes, if not those of others.

"Under Western Eyes" is also an attempt by Conrad to explore the peculiarities of the "Russian character". This is another line of development in the work. I put this in partentheses because such notions of racial character are naturally not so well received now as in Conrad's day. Whether you agree or not, Conrad (who himself was Polish) offers some interesting personal insights into the nature of the "inscrutable" Russian soul - its ability to persevere, its mysticism, its ultimate radicalism. Such issues were particular relevent to the time the book was written (1908), as Russia was then already breaking out in revolutionary violence. The story's narrator - a retired English bachelor - are the "Western eyes" under which Russia is regarded.

I might label "Under Western Eyes" a comic-tragedy, in that the primary factor behind the story's tragic chain of events is a misunderstanding. It is ultimately for the book's central character a journey of personal redemtion. Within the context of this, however, Conrad details some of his views on Russia, its people, and the nature of the revolutionary movement. I did not find it as engaging as some of Conrad's other works but anyone interested in the Russian revolutionary movement, or radical politics of the period in general, or with a bent for stories of betrayal, tragedy, and love should take a look.