The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad

The Secret Agent Reviews

• 
  Vit Babenco

  The Secret Agent is a dark satire of clandestine activities…
  Adolf Verloc is a secret agent… He is a mediocre agent…
  

  “You give yourself for an agent provocateur The proper business of an agent provocateur is to provoke. As far as I can judge from your record kept here, you have done nothing to earn your money for the last three years.”

  
  To stir up society his smart employers come up with a preposterous idea to blow up the Greenwich Observatory…
  Anarchists, terrorists, revolutionists are just ugly caricatures of human beings… Psychotic fanatics, workshy loafers full of vacuous grandiloquence and foolish notions…
  

  “All idealisation makes life poorer. To beautify it is to take away its character of complexity – it is to destroy it. Leave that to the moralists, my boy. History is made by men, but they do not make it in their heads. The ideas that are born in their consciousness play an insignificant part in the march of events. History is dominated and determined by the tool and the production – by the force of economic conditions. Capitalism has made socialism, and the laws made by capitalism for the protection of property are responsible for anarchism. No one can tell what form the social organisation may take in the future. Then why indulge in prophetic phantasies? At best they can only interpret the mind of the prophet, and can have no objective value. Leave that pastime to the moralists, my boy.”

  
  Verloc is just a pawn… He is as much a criminal as a victim… The sinister design ends up in tragic events…
  The innocent suffer and those who push buttons always remain in the shadow.
• 
  Lyn

  I have only run across a few writers who can adeptly and accurately plumb the depths of the human soul.
  
  Joseph Conrad is one of those authors and he is on a short list of talented creators who seem to have two fingers on the pulse of primordial man as he still lives and breathes beneath the surface composure of his civilized evolution.
  
  For Conrad, the ability to strip off the etiquette, culture, and social mores of western thought is as eventful as watching sun bathers lose their clothing on the beach.
  
  The Secret Agent, his 1907 publication, falls into the category of this his most accomplished canon, the exploration of our psychological depths and the unsettling discovery that to get there takes little delving.
  
  A reader of Conrad’s cannot help but compare this work with his later book
  Under Western Eyes, and I cannot help but compare both to Dostoyevsky’s
  Crime and Punishment. As in the Russian’s novel, Conrad succeeds in capturing a sympathetic portrait of the monster. We eat with Verloc, despair with him, feel his rages and jealousies, his uncertainties, and we see the simple, fundamental love of his wife through his eyes.
  
  This is a story of love, hate, betrayal, insanity, and a peculiar misanthropy that seems a ubiquitous theme to Conrad's work.
  
  
• 
  Piyangie

  The Secret Agent is by far the most complex classic I read for this year. It is a classic which is conceptually modern. Built on the themes of espionage, double agents, government policies, politics, terrorism, and revolutionaries, it is a dark and tragic tale, and even brutal at times. In the heart of the story, is a secret agent, his double life, and his unsuspecting family. The whole story is knitted around them.
  
  The story is presented in an episodic manner and each episode did keep the reader's interest. However, this episodic structure at times produced confusion and hindered the understanding of the story as a whole.
  
  The characters were cold and self-centered and didn't interest me much, except perhaps the Chief Inspector and the Assistant commissioner of police. But even though I didn't like them, I enjoyed the character descriptions and psychological portrayals marvelously done by the author. I especially enjoyed the character description and the psychological portrayal of the secret agent, Mr. Verloc. His mindset, the dangerous extent to which he was driven, his capacity to betray the trust so dearly placed on him, and his willingness to sacrifice anyone to achieve his own goals and to secure his pay role is brilliantly presented. And how his actions ultimately affected his wife, her devastation and the catastrophe that befell them too is truly and sincerely portrayed.
  
  The story was a slow start and the read took more time than usual for a short classic. But what made me take the time and read it through to the end was Conrad's excellent writing. It was clever and witty. This is my first read of Joseph Conrad. And perhaps, this is not the right book for me to begin with. But a glimpse into his writing is well worth my time and effort.
• 
  °°°·.°·..·°¯°·._.· ʜᴇʟᴇɴ Ροζουλί Εωσφόρος ·._.·°¯°·.·° .·°°° ★·.·´¯`·.·★ Ⓥⓔⓡⓝⓤⓢ Ⓟⓞⓡⓣⓘⓣⓞⓡ Ⓐⓡⓒⓐⓝⓤⓢ Ταμετούρο Αμ

  Για άλλη μια φορά η πεζογραφία του Κόνραντ είναι πυκνή, σκοτεινή, αριστουργηματική και πρωτοπόρα.
  
  « Ο μυστικός πράκτορας » μια σημαντική και θλιβερή ιστορία βολεμένων επαναστατών που μαθαίνουν πως οι αφηρημένες ιδέες τους δεν έχουν καμία σχέση με τις πραγματικές πηγές χάους, βίας και αναρχίας.
  
  Αυτή η ιστορία δημοσιεύτηκε το 1907 και διαδραματίζεται στο Λονδίνο τη δεκαετία του 1880
  ενώ είναι εμπνευσμένη απο ένα πραγματικό γεγονός που συνέβη το 1890.
  Ένα ημίφως έντονης απελπισίας περνάει μέσα απο αυτό το έργο και καταφέρνει απο τις σκιές ανθρώπων και καταστάσεων που δημιουργεί, να μας δείξει ξεκάθαρα πως ο παράδεισος δεν κρύβεται πίσω απο τις προσευχές και η λύτρωση δεν έρχεται με την εξομολόγηση, τόσο σε αυτή την ιστορία της Βικτωριανής ίντριγκας, όσο και στην παγκόσμια πολιτική της μηχανορραφίας.
  
  Η οικογένεια του Κόνραντ είχε προσωπική εμπειρία πολιτικής καταπίεσης και διώξεων στην χώρα καταγωγής του, την Πολωνία.
  Ως πρόσφυγας κατά κάποιο τρόπο ερχόμενος στην Αγγλία καταλαβαίνει καλύτερα απο κάθε Βρετανό συγγραφέα τα σκοτεινά μέρη της κοινωνίας, τους διπλούς μυστικούς πράκτορες, τους εξτρεμιστές, τις μυστικές υπηρεσίες, τους ιδεαλιστές, τους αδρανείς επαναστάτες και την ανεκτική εξωτερική πολιτική της Βρετανίας.
  Ο Κόνραντ δεν κρύβεται πίσω απο τη μυθοπλασία και μας οδηγεί με πολύ πάθος στην καρδιά της ευρωπαϊκής πολιτικής, της τρομοκρατίας, των αναρχικών ενεργειών και των αντιφρονούντων στα ολοκληρωτικά καθεστώτα Ρωσίας και Αυστρίας.
  Στην απάντηση που δόθηκε για το πως θα αντιμετωπιστούν οι τακτικές τρομοκρατίας και επανάστασης, ένα είδος φόβου και σπασμωδικών ενεργειών απο μια αποτρόπαια υποκουλτούρα συλλογικών ιδεολογιών που πρέπει να κερδίσουν την αμοιβή τους με αίμα, όχι μόνο με υποβολή αναφορών.
  
  Η γραφή του Κόνραντ έντονα ατμοσφαιρική και ψυχολογικά διαπεραστική με αρκετή δόση ειρωνείας καταγράφει την αλληλένδετη σχέση του εγκληματία και του αστυνομικού. Την κοινή συνύπαρξη τρομοκρατών και υπερασπιστών της ειρήνης. Αστυνομικοί, πολιτικοί και αναρχικοί δρουν και υπάρχουν με μια άρρητη αμοιβαιότητα σχέσεων, εγκληματούν ο ένας για τον άλλον με κίνητρο το χρήμα και το ατομικό συμφέρον.
  
  Παρασιτικά όργανα επιδιώξεων που όταν πιεστούν για να πράξουν αγανάκτηση ίσως και να προκαλούν παγκόσμιους πολέμους.
  
  Ετσι, ο βολεμένος τεμπέλης κ. Βέρλοκ κατάσκοπος της Ρωσικής κυβέρνησης στα τέλη του 19ου αιώνα στο Λονδίνο υποβάλει αναφορές στην αρμόδια πρεσβεία σχετικά με αναρχικούς και επαναστάτες.
  Η Αγγλία ανέχεται πολλά και η Μόσχα ζητάει βομβιστικές επιθέσεις για να πυροδοτήσει την αντίδραση της βρετανικής κυβέρνησης.
  Ο κ. Βέρλοκ αναγκάζεται να ενεργήσει σπασμωδικά και βίαια για να δικαιολογήσει τον μισθό του και την αδράνεια των συνοδοιπόρων του.
  
  Ίσως εδώ να γράφτηκαν τα κομμουνιστικά μανιφέστα. Ίσως οι αριστεροί σύντροφοι να άλλαξαν πορεία και οι επανάστασεις να ξεκίνησαν με λάθος κίνητρα. Πάντως όλα αυτά συνέθεσαν το θεσμό της δημοκρατίας ....
  
  Ειλικρινά δεν με άγγιξε καθόλου η Πρεσβεία, οι εργοδότες και τα εκάστοτε τσιράκια τους.
  
  Αυτό που με συγκλόνισε ήταν η απόλυτη αξιοπιστία που δίνεται στους απλούς ανθρώπινους χαρακτήρες.
  Σε ανήξερους και ανήμπορους ήρωες που πλήρωσαν με τη ζωή τους τις αναρχικές εσχατιές, αυτές που επέλεξαν να δράσουν με κίνητρο την αμοιβή τους, σε καμία περίπτωση τα μεθοδευμένα αίσχη δεν εξυπηρέτησαν το καλό της ανθρωπότητας.
  Αντίθετα έπνιξαν με αίμα και πόνο κάθε υπόσταση που θα μπορούσε επάξια να χαρακτηριστεί ηρωική, κάθε μοτίβο που θα είχε τίτλο
  « Αυτό που βλέπετε, ναι, αυτό που θρηνεί και καταρρέει, αυτό που παράφρονα χάνεται στην ανυπαρξία, το εξιλαστήριο θύμα, αυτό, ναι, αυτό ακριβώς είναι οι άνθρωποι».
  
  
  🕵🏻‍♂️🎩👑🐽🐍🔦💣💣💣💔💔
  
  Καλή ανάγνωση.
  Πολλούς ασπασμούς.
• 
  [P]

  In the aftermath of a tragedy people often look towards artists, towards novelists, musicians and poets also, for comfort, the kind of comfort one finds when someone is able to capture an event, or feelings, that you yourself find incomprehensible or unfathomable or inexpressible. For example, after 9/11 there was a rush to proclaim certain kinds of art as speaking for the time[s], and it was then that Joseph Conrad’s The Secret Agent received a lot of attention, it being a novel concerned with a plot to blow up a well-known building. Subsequent to the attacks on the Twin Towers, this book has now come to be known as The Great Terrorism Novel, and is seen as a kind of prophetic/prescient work. Yet, there is something about the The Secret Agent, something about the particular brand of terrorism that it deals with, that people often choose to ignore or simply misunderstand; or perhaps, if one was being especially cynical, which I almost always am, one might wonder if a lot of the journalists who put the book forward have actually read it.
  
  Adolf [yes, Adolf] Verloc has two jobs. One is to run a seedy shop in London with his wife and her simple-minded brother, and the other is as the secret agent of the title. However, Verloc is no James Bond; he is an observer, and informer; that is, until one day he is told, by the shady Mr. Vladimir, who is some kind of foreign ambassador, that observation is not enough. He must, says Vladimir, prove to be indispensable if he wants to remain on the payroll. This being indispensable involves blowing up Greenwich Observatory, the aim of which is to stir England into decisive, even extreme, action against criminal/revolutionary/terrorist elements or organisations. It is Vladimir’s idea that in order to do this one must get the attention of, to wake up so to speak, the middle classes.
  
  

  ‘The imbecile bourgeoisie of this country make themselves the accomplices of the very people whose aim is to drive them out of their houses to starve in ditches. And they have the political power still, if they only had the sense to use it for their preservation. I suppose you agree the middle-classes are stupid?’
  
  Mr. Verloc agreed hoarsely.
  
  ‘They are’
  
  ‘They have no imagination. They are blinded by an idiotic vanity. What they want just now is a jolly good scare.’

  
  
  This is blistering stuff. The terrorists are not crazy Arabs hellbent on destroying democracy and taking over the world, as some commentators would have you believe was the case with 9/11, this is violence and terrorism used against an ignorant or complaisant people in order to enrage them, in order to manipulate them into doing what you want them to do. So, far from providing balm for the masses, The Secret Agent is actually more likely to fuel conspiracy theories; its take on the political world is, in fact, far closer to the popular conspiracy theory that the World Trade Centre attacks were an inside job, that they were brought down in order to give the US government a reason to wage war in the Middle East.
  
  One of the first things you will notice about The Secret Agent is that although the novel is purported to be set in London, there is not a great deal that is recognisably English about it. All of the revolutionaries, for example, have continental-sounding names – Ossipon, Verloc, Michaelis, etc – despite it being the case that they are meant to be British citizens. Furthermore, Conrad’s capital city is a particularly gloomy place; even taking into account that London may have been dirty and so on, there is something almost phantasmagorical, but certainly very odd, about the way the Pole presents it. In Bleak House Dickens writes about the fog and such, but Conrad’s London appears to be permanently in darkness, with a palpable threat of violence or madness always in the air; Indeed, the sense of madness or mental strain that pervades the work is reminiscent of Dostoevsky [although Conrad was, apparently, not a fan].
  
  For a novel so obviously, relentlessly, political and satirical it would be easy to see the characters as mere symbols, or representations, or one-dimensional puppets. Yet there is also a strong human aspect to the work. First of all, there is the conflict resulting from the task given to Verloc, by which I mean that of the observer who is forced to be an active participant. It takes a special kind of person to do this sort of thing, to bomb a building; most people are capable of standing by and letting it occur, but it’s a different thing, takes a different kind of personality, altogether to be the one holding the explosive, to detonate it. As one would imagine, if you force someone to act who is more suited to observing the consequences are likely to be disastrous.
  
  Secondly, there is the relationship between the simple-minded Stevie and the Verlocs. Stevie does have a representative or symbolic function in the novel: he is innocence and confusion and, one could also say, chaos [at least mentally/emotionally]; he is, in a sense, both the moral conscience of the novel and a human mirror of the emotional state of Mr. Verloc himself [as well as perhaps all revolutionaries]. Yet he also provides the most tender moments in the book, such as his sympathy for the whipped horse and the poor driver of the horse, and all of the tragedy. Stevie is a tragic figure because he is a wholly trusting and loving brother and brother-in-law. Mrs. Verloc sacrifices herself in order to provide a safe and comfortable home for him, while Mr. Verloc ultimately takes advantage of him in an apparently mindless, yet cruel manner.
  
  I hope that so far I have gone some way to summing up some of the book’s strengths and points of interest, yet it would be remiss of me not to mention that many readers raise serious objections. Of these objections most are related to Conrad’s style. On this, there is no doubt that The Secret Agent is at times a mess of adverbs and repetition; no character does or says anything in the book that isn’t, in some way, over or unnecessarily described and repeated. For example, Verloc is said to ‘mumble’ or speak ‘huskily’ with such frequency that it is liable to cause mirth or extreme irritation in the reader. Indeed, if you were to be brutally honest, this over-reliance on certain words, and excessive number of adverbs, is the kind of thing you would expect from the most amateur of YA authors, not one of the most renowned novelists of the 20th century.
  
  So, does this mean that Conrad was a bad writer? Or that The Secret Agent is a badly written book? That is certainly one way to look at it. One might say that as Conrad was a Pole writing in English it is understandable that his vocabulary would be limited and his sentences idiosyncratic. Yet I don’t quite agree with this. All of his novels are dense and difficult but, unless my memory is faulty, this is the only one written in this particular way. Furthermore, some of the repetition, for example ‘Ossipon, nicknamed Doctor’, occurs on subsequent pages in the text, and, for me, it is absurd to think Conrad wouldn’t have noticed. This suggests that these flaws were perhaps intentional, that it was a style choice. However, one is then, of course, faced with coming up with some way of justifying that style choice.
  
  The Secret Agent features intellectually dull men, incompetent revolutionaries with radical ideas or, in Verloc’s case, an incompetent secret agent. As with Stevie, Conrad’s banal yet convoluted style in a way mirrors the mental, intellectual state of these characters. Furthermore, as previously noted, the novel’s atmosphere is that of confusion and anxiety and potential violence. The repetition, the overall strange writing style, to some extent makes the reader feel how the characters themselves feel; it is, whether one likes it or not, disorientating, and that does not strike me as a coincidence.
  
  While many argue that The Secret Agent’s style is unsophisticated the same could not be said of the structure. In the early part of the novel each new chapter deals with a different character, often introducing a previously unknown one. Rather than follow Verloc as he carries out his assigned task, the narrative moves around, shifts perspective; and during each of these shifts characters will discuss both past and present events, thereby only gradually revealing what is going on. For example, one finds out during an early chapter featuring Ossipon and the Professor that someone has blown themselves up, and that it is assumed that it is Verloc. But you never see the event itself, and you don’t find out what actually happened until much later. There is, therefore, no linear timeline of events; much like a detective, you have to piece together the timeline yourself, and this is particularly satisfying.
  
  However, towards the end of the novel the focus narrows, and in the last 50 or so pages Mrs. Verloc comes to the fore. There is a long passage between her and her husband that is difficult to discuss without spoilers, but it is a truly brilliant piece of writing. Conrad manages to show grief and shock in a way that is more accurate and moving than I thought possible in a novel. For me, it is worth reading The Secret Agent for this long passage alone. Yet, that is not necessary, one need not read Conrad’s work only for this passage, because it gives you so much more: farce, tragedy, murder, satire, mystery, and so on. It may not be The Great Terrorism Novel, it may not comfort the masses the next time a bomb explodes, scattering far and wide the flesh of hundreds or thousands of destroyed bodies, but it is a fucking great book.
• 
  Luís

  That's a very dark novel in an even darker and filthier London. Joseph Conrad describes a couple who survive on a front business of questionable articles and work to gather information on the anarchists of the late 19th century. The least we can see is that the book is not a spy novel as we understand it today, with little action, but rather a book on the difficult life of a couple of modest people penniless. All have retreated in a deliberately ironic, black manner and uncompromising criticism of the laziness and pettiness of this anti-hero.
• 
  Georgia Scott

  Stevie used to be the boy with a boat who took me to the bay. While he rowed, I baled water with a tin can. At twelve, it was the height of romance. Now, a new Stevie has my heart. He is older in years yet acts even younger. He's quiet, too. And kind.
  
  Only, he doesn't live in a nice town with lawns and beaches. His home is above a dingy shop. It sells pictures of women in their underwear or nothing! The shop is dark and always looks shut.
  
  If he had a boat, even one with holes, we could go out. All he has is a compass and paper. Instead of going around a bay, he draws circles all day. Isn't that bad enough?
  
  What happens to Stevie in this book upsets me. Mr Conrad, couldn't you write another ending? I can't sleep without thinking of your Stevie. It hurts almost as much as love.
• 
  Fiona MacDonald

  I can appreciate this novel is pretty wonderful. And as I read more and more I was fascinated, but I did find it hard going at the start. I think the plot is horrific, and it made me want to research the Greenwich Bomb in more detail. I think it was a pretty daring book for Conrad to release at such a time with such detailed observations on spying and terrorism. It's still an incredibly relevant work even now in the current climate.
• 
  Ahmad Sharabiani

  766. The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale, Joseph Conrad
  The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale is a novel by Joseph Conrad, published in 1907. The story is set in London in 1886 and deals with Mr Adolf Verloc and his work as a spy for an unnamed country (presumably Russia). The Secret Agent is one of Conrad's later political novels in which he moved away from his former tales of seafaring.
  عنوانها: مامور سری؛ مامور مخفی؛ نویسنده: جوزف کنراد، انتشارات (بزرگمهر)، ادبیات انگلستان؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش: سوم ماه نامبر سال 187 میلادی
  عنوان: مامور سری؛ نویسنده: جوزف کنراد؛ مترجم: پرویز داریوش؛ تهران، بزرگمهر، 1365؛ در 313 ص؛ شابک: 9649087231؛ موضوع: داستانهای نویسندگان انگلیسی - سده 20 م
  مأمور سری: یک داستان ساده، اثر جوزف کنراد نخستین بار در سال 1907 میلادی منتشر شده است. داستان در لندن سال 1886 میلادی رخ می‌دهد و به آقای آدولف ورلاک، و کار او که جاسوسی برای کشور ناگفته‌ ای (احتمالاً روسیه) است، مربوط می‌شود. ا. شربیانی
• 
  Valeriu Gherghel

  Văd în acest roman o palidă replică englezească a Demonilor lui Dostoievski.
  
  Dar, cu excepția Profesorului (fixat în ura lui nihilistă fără leac), anarhiștii prezentați de Joseph Conrad sînt niște indivizi mediocri. Spionii nu fac nici două parale. Aparțin mai degrabă genului comic: sînt niște caricaturi de spioni. Ceea ce ar fi trebuit să fie un „thriller” devine pînă la sfîrșit o dramă de familie. Dezamăgită de „agentul secret” Verloc, soția lui alege să se sinucidă. Și cît de secret poate fi un agent despre care poliția știe din capul locului absolut totul?
  
  Nu e cel mai bun roman al lui Conrad, asta e sigur, deși gheara leului se simte pretutindeni.
  
  P. S. Nici traducerea și nici corectura cărții nu sînt în afara oricărui reproș. Iată ce am cules: „altețile lor imperiale” (p.171), „lucruri care nu e bine să le știe” (p.176), „fața încadrată de doi favoriți grizonați” (p.180), „un Don Quijote glacial și relexiv” (p.195), „de parcă ar fi stat ambuscat în junglă” (p.199), „un chip ambrozian și apollonic” (p.406) etc.
• 
  Tyler Jones

  I think this is one of the finest novels of the 20th Century for the following reasons:
  
  1) The language is magnificent. For a reader such as myself, who likes to get lost in tangential thoughts mid-sentence, Conrad offers a warm bath we can soak in. I often just let the sentences flow over me in waves of color and music (I usually read Faulkner this way too), but if I want to stop and extract all the meaning from one of his dense little beauties I just pull the golden ribbon and what appears to be a knot of words opens up nicely. I have tried unraveling some of Faulkner's and McCarthy's sentences this way and found myself baffled. Conrad's style reminds me a lot of the elegance, albeit to a far lesser degree, that Nabokov wrote with. Maybe those who approach English from the outside can see and do things we who grew up with it can't.
  
  2) He tells us important stuff about how humans think and act. For Conrad, I believe, what goes on inside a person's head is at least as important as how they act in the world. Perhaps more important, because understanding motive is the key. With out understanding motive all action, even terrorist acts, are random. I believe Conrad is correct when he exposes characters as being at the whim of their own emotional needs; he gets deep in the heads of anarchists, spies, policemen and quiet little housewives and shows that they all pretty much are driven by the need to feel secure, or to be protectors, or have their egos stroked. Many characters believe they are acting in selfless support of a cause (be it anarchy or rule of law) but ultimately all are driven by impulses they are probably unaware of. And so, dear reader, are you and me. Conrad was not the first to make this observation but he presents it in such a way as to make it really strike home. I'm sure there is a lot of other important stuff in the book too, but this was just the main one that I felt.
  
  3) I love the internal stuff - which probably is just a personal thing. I love Chapter Six, in which a Chief Inspector of the police is conversing with his superior. Between each line of dialogue Conrad gives us paragraphs of internal thought - in short he makes a mockery of that "show, don't tell" rule that is supposed to apply to good writing. Conrad tells everything, and it works! This should bore me to death, but it actually stimulates my thinking. Later in the novel (Chapter Eleven), this dragging out of the action by all the interior stuff raises an already tense scene to an almost unbearable level of tension. It is incredibly effective, but I fear too many busy modern readers just don't have the patience for it.
  
  4) It seems very relevant to today. That's one sign of a great book, isn't it? This isn't some dusty classic that explores issues only related to historical events. It speaks to us, now, in a voice that is urgent and vital.
• 
  Quo

  Joseph Conrad's novel The Secret Agent is filled with characters who might be termed "burned out cases", refugees from the crowded, pestilent London of Conrad's own day, composed by someone who was himself a perpetual outsider, a former Polish seaman born in what is today a part of the Ukraine, for whom English was a 3rd language. And, while Conrad's characters might be drawn from an English underworld somewhat reminiscent of Dickens, they are cast in a seemingly much less compassionate manner.
  
  
  
  Beyond that, Conrad's use of English often represents an odd sort of hybrid voice, including within the novel some English words that were archaic even in the author's time. However, while not in complete control of the English language, I found Conrad's characters in The Secret Agent quite memorable and the story profoundly moving.
  
  The novel seeks to explore what might cause someone to become an anarchist rather than striving for a place in society's "mainstream" or middle class, even while the upper echelon of that society is thoroughly restricted. One of the characters considers that "the future is as certain as the past: slavery, feudalism, individualism, collectivism--this is the statement of a law, not an empty prophecy." He sees the economic situation as "cannibalistic".
  
  The Secret Agent was written at a time just after the assassination of Czar Nicholas II when many European powers fermented a segment in their midst dedicated to disrupting & even completely destroying the established order, as translated by an author whose own family was dismembered by the might of Imperial Russia.
  
  Oddly enough, having fled to England from the Czar's control of Poland, Joseph Conrad encountered Russian spies in London, foreign agents hoping to create revolutionary dissent in the days well before WWI.
  
  Among the cast of characters is an ex-convict named Mr. Verloc, who runs a pornography shop in a seedy corner of London while acting as an agent very likely in the employ of Russia in order to supplement his income. He is described as a "moral nihilist", someone with "an air of having wallowed , fully dressed from an unmade bed."
  
  Verloc has a loyal but exceedingly withdrawn wife who displays "an air of unfathomable indifference" but who brought to their marriage her own widowed mother + a younger brother who appears mentally damaged or perhaps autistic & is in great need of protective care.
  
  There is also Michaelis, an obese, wheezy former convict with a philosophical bent, nominally adopted by a society woman who has encouraged him to draft his memoirs. Another character, Comrade Ossion, is an ex-medical student & present-day pamphleteer, described as having "a flat nose & a prominent mouth", a man who wears an old suit, smokes incessantly & who is said to be engaged in chronicling the "socialistic aspects of hygiene and the corroding vices of the middle class."
  
  
  
  The characters appear ineffectual malcontents rather than truly revolutionary types & are monitored by Chief Inspector Heat, formerly a policeman in a tropical British colony, someone who sees himself as an energetic Don Quixote overly burdened by paperwork but who has to reconstruct the pieces of a provocative crime in which an innocent was accidentally obliterated. Conrad has little sympathy for revolutionary types & in the person of Inspector Heat intones:

  For obviously one does not revolt against the advantages & opportunities of the state but against the price that must be paid for the same in the coin of accepted morality, self-restraint & toil. The majority of revolutionaries are the enemies of discipline & fatigue easily.
  
  There are also some for whom the sense of justice & the price extracted looms up monstrously, odious, oppressive, worrying, humiliating, extortionate, intolerable. These are the true fanatics. The remaining portion of the social rebels is accounted for by vanity, the mother of noble & vile illusions, the companion of poets, reformers, charlatans, prophets & incendiaries.

  Joseph Conrad apparently never felt comfortable in London and while he took on British citizenship, may have felt himself a perpetual alien from all but his native Polish homeland. For this reason, he seems particularly able to convey the spirit of so many disaffected characters in the only novel the Conrad wrote set in London, a book that much like one of the characters is "inclining toward the gutter...(having committed an act) of "madness or despair". The Secret Agent ends like this:

  And the incorruptible fellow walked, averting his eyes from the odious multitude of mankind. He had no future. He disdained it. He was a force. His thoughts caressed the images of ruin & destruction. He walked frail, insignificant, shabby, miserable--and terrible in the simplicity of his idea calling madness & despair to the regeneration of the world. Nobody looked at him. He passed on unsuspected & deadly, like a pest in a street full of men.

  Much like Turgenev in his novel Fathers & Sons, Joseph Conrad attempted to grapple with the quandary of why some within a seemingly stable society choose its destruction, a concern that would seem a never-ending social problem but one that the author dealt with valiantly, occasionally with garbled phrasings but mostly with uplifting prose & well-drawn characters.
  
  *I read the Everyman Library edition of The Secret Agent which contains an introduction by Paul Theroux, an author whose novel The Family Arsenal bears some similarity to the much earlier work by Conrad. There is an excellent pictorial book by Norman Sherry for Thames & Hudson, Conrad & His World with commentary + 142 illustrations.
  
  **Images within my review: Joseph Conrad (born Józef Korzeniowski); a street scene in London's Soho during Conrad's day.
• 
  John

  I enjoyed Winnie Verloc’s story of despair, secrets, desolation, madness and the predictable ending. The dinginess, poverty and hopelessness is captured with the monotonous of life. The lazy indolent secretive Mr Verloc with the story of the Greenwich bombing. Espionage, double dealing, betrayal and the politics of turning the other cheek are well captured.
  
  When we think of a secret agent we think of James Bond instead we get Mr Verloc. An overweight, middle aged, lazy character who owns and runs a pornography shop in a seedier area of London. He lives there with his wife Winnie and her mother and brother who is intellectually challenged.
  
  The story is superb with its character studies and story of a bombing attack that goes wrong.
  
  
• 
  Jon Nakapalau

  The inner workings of a terrorist cell are examined in this tale of ideology and betrayal. Should be required reading for military/law enforcement personnel.
• 
  Fernando

  "La mayor parte de los revolucionarios son enemigos de la disciplina y el cansancio. Existen también naturalezas para cuyo sentido de la justicia el precio exigido resulta exageradamente desproporcionado, detestable, agobiante, angustioso, humillante, injusto, intolerable. Son los fanáticos. El número restante de rebeldes sociales se debe a la vanidad, madre de todas las ilusiones, nobles y e innobles, la compañera de los poetas, reformistas, charlatanes, profetas e incendiarios."
  
  El señor Verloc es un hombre común y silvestre, ha pasado los cuarenta y está un poco entrado en kilos y tiene una tienda. Al parecer, una vida normal y burguesa en la Inglaterra de principios de siglo.
  Pero al parecer no es solo eso. El señor Verloc trabaja desde hace años como agente secreto para el señor Vladimir, de una embajada en Londres. Y tampoco eso es todo, ya que el señor Verloc es anarquista en una época en la que esos terroristas estaban de moda. Su oficio es poner bombas, para sacudir y desestabilizar el sistema establecido.
  Y como juega a dos puntas, planea un atentado en el observatorio de Greenwich por intermedio de un hombre-bomba, pero la cuestión es que las cosas no salen tan bien como él las tenía premeditadas.
  Los cabos comienzan a atarse y el comisario principal de Londres decide poner en funcionamiento y dejar la investigación en manos del inspector jefe Heat, un hombre eficiente y muy experimentado.
  El señor Verloc está en problemas, puesto que la explosión ha generado un daño colateral, impensado.
  Para colmo, sus amistades no son dignas de elogio. Entre ellas, iremos encontrando a personajes siniestros y torcidos como Michaelis, el apóstol en libertad condicional, Alexander Ossipon, el camarada ruso y Karl Yundt, el viejo terrorista. Todos estos personajes poseen apodos que recuerdan a otros muy oscuros y sórdidos, los de las novelas de Roberto Arlt.
  Las investigaciones se suceden con más asiduidad. Todo tiene conexión. La normal relación conyugal del señor Verloc hace que no pueda sostener su doble vida ante su esposa Winnie. Hasta su cuñado, un muchacho deficiente mental llamado Stevie tendrá incidencia en esta historia de intriga y enredos con final trágico.
  El final tendrá un giro realmente inesperado y será completamente opuesto a lo que leímos al principio.
  Es de destacar el desarrollo psicológico que Joseph Conrad hace de su personaje principal, el señor Verloc, de concepción realmante notable. Con extensas descripciones durante largos párrafos nos va mostrando cómo piensa y cuáles son los giros en la conciencia de Verloc con mucha profundidad, por momentos, recordándome al Raskólnikov de "Crimen y castigo", más precisamente luego de que sucede la explosión.
  Este punto en particular es digno de elogio. El otro punto fuerte es el tratamiento que hace del personaje de Winnie, la esposa del señor Verloc y del tortuoso y agobiante destino a la que es arrastrada.
  Conrad tuvo algunos problemas al publicar la novela, ya que no fue bien vista por críticos y periodistas. Cada vez que un autor tomaba en aquellos años y aún antes el tema del anarquismo, el terrorismo o el nihilismo sufría las consecuencias de dicha elección. Le pasó a G. K. Chesterton con "El hombre que fue Jueves" y mucho antes en Rusia a Fiódor Dostoievski con "Los demonios".
  La elección de estos temas podía torcer o desvirtuar la carrera de un escritor sin importar su fama o reputación, pero en el caso de Conrad no fue con fines revolucionarios, sino basándose en el libro de memorias que un jefe de policía había publicado sobre 1880.
  Lo cierto es que Joseph Conrad, quien venía de escribir una sombría y exótica novela como lo fue "Nostromo" decide bajarse del barco, fuente y medio principal de todas sus historias para escribir "El agente secreto", que es una novela distinta pero que vale mucho la pena leer.
• 
  Jonfaith

  My best friend Joel has a friend Bob who teaches at Rutgers. Nearly a decade ago, before becoming a scholarly expert on Borat, he stated that in terms of literature he wasn't going to bother with anything written later than 1920; what was the point, he'd quip? I admired his pluck. While I'm not sure he still ascribes to such. Well, for a couple of weeks in 2004 I adhered to the goal. There have been many goals with a similar history and such a sad conclusion: sigh. This was my first effort towards that goal and what an amazing novel it is.
  
  The Secret Agent is the dark reversal of Chesterton's The Man Who Was Thursday. The devices employed are grim and effective. Highly recommended.
• 
  Sketchbook

  Grand opera.
  Tosca stabs Scarpia. Victorian London, amid a nest of spies
  and terrorists. Classic stuff fr a non-stylist who is, nonetheless, a great writer (Conrad's first language was Polish, his 2d French, he wrote in English). A strong influence on Graham Greene, Conrad rips open a marital horror bet a scuzzy anarchist and his simple wife after her teen brud is killed x his bomb.
  
  Their marriage was legalized prostitution and, in her outrage, the shattered sister becomes a murderer. "She did not know which way to turn. Murderers had friends, relatives, helpers. She had nothing." But she's free - at last !
  
  A modern, psychological vein-cutter without galumphy twists, turns, surprises -- just the truthfulness of character. I spent a week poring over the last 80 pages wherein Conrad digs into the appalling madness of humanity.
  
  *
  Conrad's companion dazzler: "Under Western Eyes" (Russ spies, Geneva, 1911).
  
• 
  Ahmed

  الروايات الهادئة المتعمقة بكل التفاصيل الحياتية، الحس الكلاسيكي الممتع، التصوير والتأريخ المجتمعي، مع عمق نفسي ممتع، وتصوير شخصيات فذ، والأهم الحبكة والدراية بتغييرات الظروف ويواكب تطورات الحدث.
  
  العميل السري: رواية ممتعة لمحبي الإثارة، ومهمة لمحبي تفاصيل المجتمعات، والشخصيات.
  
  رواية لطيفة ممتعة بترجمة متقنة.
• 
  Nigeyb

  
  The Secret Agent (1907) by
  Joseph Conrad
  
  What a novel. Magnificent.
  
  Incredibly convoluted, dense, sporadically boring, but also extraordinary prescient, dark, beautifully written, occasionally amusing, sometimes laugh out loud funny, but, above all, always strangely compelling.
  
  This London novel takes place during the 1880s and involves a small group of mostly ineffectual anarchists. Conrad writes compelling portraits of these disaffected participants. One of them, Adolf Verloc, is a shopkeeper with a family to provide for, who is also paid as an agent for a foreign embassy. Verloc's handler convinces him to blow up the Greenwich Observatory to highlight the dangers of socialism and anarchism to Britain's political class. Things go awry and the bungled bombing is the springboard for a winding narrative which embraces politicians, the police, foreign diplomats, fashionable society, criminals and anarchists.
  
  
  The Secret Agent is said to have influenced the Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski, which is understandable, especially the character of the Professor who is completely ruthless and contemptuous of humanity. He carries a flask of explosives in his coat, which can be detonated within twenty seconds of him squeezing an India-rubber ball in his pocket, so he is feared by all, including the police.
  
  Despite the book's title,
  The Secret Agent is wide-ranging, and explores a range of characters from a broad section of society and goes into the details of their lives, their motivation and inner world, and their interactions.
  Joseph Conrad uses this breadth to explore themes like politics, domestic life, gender relations, disability, expediency, anarchism, terrorism, policing, spy agencies, London, and power. This is both the book's greatest strength and sometime a slight weakness:
  Joseph Conrad crams so much into this book that whilst it's rich in detail, it is also sometimes quite hard work.
  
  I never expected to roar with laughter though whilst reading
  The Secret Agent, however there is a lot sly, subtle humour in the novel and also some very amusing scenes.
  
  
  The Secret Agent is an absorbing and very prescient book which, whilst sometimes challenging, is an essential read, not least in how it foretold many of the themes of the twentieth century.
  
  5/5
• 
  Ian

  A novel that is now more than a century old, but with some noticeably modern elements. I have read a few articles on the web recently about how we are moving into a world of "post-truth politics" in which populist rhetoric and arrogant assertion are accepted far more readily than actual evidence. At one point in this novel though, Conrad describes a politician in the House of Commons as "boring mercilessly a very thin House with shamelessly cooked statistics" which maybe suggests that "post-truth politics" is not as new as some suggest. Earlier on in the novel one character, a fanatical anarchist, sets forth that "I have always dreamed...of a band of men absolute in their resolve to discard all scruples in the choice of means, strong enough to give themselves frankly the name of destroyers...No pity for anything on earth, including themselves." I need hardly point out how well that description fits a certain repulsive 21st century organisation. One of the things I took from this novel was that there is not that much new under the Sun.
  
  I was impressed by "The Secret Agent"; more than I had really expected. I started reading it largely out of curiosity, as it was a book I had heard a lot about without ever having read. I enjoyed Conrad's portrayal of the characters and their motivations: Verloc as a man who had reached middle age and whose only priorities were the preservation of his own comfort and security; Winnie as the wife for whom marriage was no more than an economic bargain; and the ugly fanaticism of "The Professor", born from thwarted ambition. Initially I found the plot to be less enjoyable than the characterisation, but once the book's central "incident" occurs (I'll say no more about it to avoid spoilers) I became intrigued, firstly by the investigation and the personal rivalry between the Police Chief Inspector and the Assistant Commissioner; and then by how the ending would work out. An enjoyable and well constructed novel.
• 
  Clint Hall

  I wanted this book to be a spy novel--and you'd think with a title like that, it should be. To some extent it was, but not in the way I was expecting. It was something different.
  
  "This act of madness or despair."
  
  That was a line that was read by a character at the end, over and over to drive home the point of this novel. It's about terrorism not just as it's known today as broad acts of violence, but also emotional terrorism against individuals in relationships. That line is a summation of the motive behind terrorism. Acts of madness and despair.
  
  The synopsis felt like a bit of a spoiler, but by the end of the book I realized the one action spoiled wasn't the point of the book. I'd also like to point out to the world at large that a spoiler is a spoiler. Just because I haven't read a book that's a hundred years old doesn't give you justification to interfere with my enjoyment. "If you haven't read it by now, it's your own fault that I'm spoiling this." Go straight to hell.
  
  I digress.
  
  Another thought I had while reading this was the motivation for the main character may have had something to do with the ways of the old fighting the ways of the new. Or more specifically, the fight against new knowledge and science. He's an antique shop owner whose target is a science centre. That can't be coincidence.
  
  Joseph Conrad gave me a lot to think about, all the while trying to understand for himself what makes a terrorist tick. It wasn't a traditional spy novel, but it was worth the read. 3.5, rounded up.
• 
  Zoeb

  Phew. At the end of Joseph Conrad's nearly 300 page novel, the markedly unglamourous and unromantic tale of a mediocre, shabby secret agent in London and his mission that goes brutally, devastatingly awry, I feel exhilarated, for sure, but also a tad exhausted. It is not that Conrad's language was difficult to decipher or that this novel was longer than his other works that I have read so far; by comparison, "Heart Of Darkness" has a denser prose style, "The Nigger of The Narcissus" is more elegiac and haunting and "Youth", despite its short length, more complex and allegorical as a story. But rather, it is the bleak, dreary, morally impoverished tenor of this tale, without the slightest room for even a glimmer of hope or any redemption for even characters who are not at all guilty of anything, that was admittedly tough to swallow. Conrad's stories, so far, had mesmerised and moved me beyond measure, yes, even the disillusionment of the colonial wasteland of "Heart Of Darkness" had a nightmarishly poetic dignity to it; in "The Secret Agent", even this nihilistic poetry had been sucked dry of all emotion.
  
  That might also explain why I read "The Secret Agent" sporadically instead of following it steadily from cover to cover - there were times, in the first hundred pages, or so, when I simply could not let go of it and there were times, in the middle, when I just felt like throwing in the towel because Conrad, surprisingly, seemed to be running around in circles, beating around the bush, something which he normally doesn't. And then came the last hundred pages of the book that awoke my interest and attention and as the novel ended with a protracted scene of catharsis, crime and moral dilemma, I was finally convinced that I was reading the work of a master storyteller again. But yes, it did take time and also a little effort on my part to realise that.
  
  But I digress. "The Secret Agent" is the story of Mr. Adolf Verloc, a covert agent working for an unnamed foreign power who has put up the unsuspecting front of a seedy shopkeeper in Soho and who lives with his devoted but stoic wife, her aging and immobile mother and her younger brother Stevie. This mild-mannered, soft-spoken man is now reporting to a new spymaster, a certain condescending and gloating gentleman by the name of Mr. Vladimir, who assigns him a new mission, a mission that will strike at the heart of science and will thus create enough noise to fulfil his deeper, more implicit mission. Also involved unwittingly in the same conspiracy are Verloc's revolutionary comrades, each one of them quite an enigmatic character on his own, including someone named as The Professor but you have to find out about him on your own.
  
  Sounds like a classic spy story on paper, right? Conrad was interested in subverting the genre and not in following its archetype elements and the reason why "The Secret Agent" makes for such a compelling read is the writer's incisive and even gritty deconstruction of the usual heroic and romantic associations of the game of espionage, intrigue and its equally momentous consequences. It should be remembered that this was the novel that had inspired subsequent writers like Graham Greene and John Le Carre, particularly the former, to bring an unprecedented depth of realism and moral complexity to their cloak and dagger thrillers and it is impossible to deny its influence and its role in shaping the modern, twentieth-century deconstructionist genre of literature as well. Verloc is no dashing, charismatic, dapper gentleman but rather a shabby, even indolent and comfortably lazy person with no overarching aspirations for greatness or even heroism and patriotic duty; similarly, his fellow anarchists are no fervent dynamite-hurling, speechifying compatriots but rather old, decadent and even grotesque men musing idly about their philosophies without doing anything really constructive. And even as Alfred Hitchcock might have taken the central situation of the novel and fitted it into a neat little thriller with the 1936 film "Sabotage" - which, honestly, does a fair job, as fair as any loose adaptation of keeping some of Conrad's bleakness intact, the novel itself is no suspenseful thriller building up to "what will happen" but rather a sobering, even haunting examination of "what has already happened" and what it means for this seedy agent, his wife, his friends and for us readers as well.
  
  This is the very antithesis of a thriller and yet it is this bleak and even grimly, absurdly satirical ringside view of subterfuge that Conrad builds up so skilfully that you can almost taste and smell the grimy realism, almost feel the inadequate warmth of those gas lamps and the deathly dark silence of Brett Street at night. Like the last few novels and stories that I have read recently, this is again a uniquely distinctive and indelible portrait of Edwardian London too, portrayed here without the slightest sense of charm or even the littlest trace of flourish. In these dark, under-lit streets and squares of an alternate city seething with trifling mediocrity and moral impoverishment, Conrad orchestrates both big and small scenes from his narrative with an allegorical profundity - from a poor, weather-beaten hansom cab walking away slowly into the depths of the night to a policeman on his beat coming almost close to discovering a scene of cathartic disaster.
  
  Yet, what stops me from giving a full five stars, which this book would have otherwise deserved from my usually generous self, is how much more it could have been. I am not talking here about a more multi-layered plot or a lengthier narrative arc; the simple, unspectacular story is in fact just perfect for Conrad, as in "The Nigger Of The Narcissus" to flesh its bare bones with his customary flesh and blood of a sense of eye-wide wonder and a rolling, mesmeric gift of poetry, not least a sense of gritty realism and emotional resonance. And most crucially, superbly developed or even intriguing characters as well. Here, in this novel, the cynicism is too bitter, almost indulgently so, the prose, while pared down considerably to be almost lean and functional, is occasionally burdened by verbosity and most glaringly, it is hard to care for any character sufficiently as none of them are developed very convincingly or credibly from beginning to end. Many of the said supporting characters get cruelly short-changed and then are suddenly thrust back into the narrative, jarringly and even as there are terrible consequences of Verloc's misguided attempts to please his spymasters, all we experience is a sense of shock and outrage without feeling anything particularly sad or even sympathetic for any of the characters who suffer the worst of it. It is easily Conrad at his most cold-blooded and that makes it much more difficult to read, let alone enjoy.
  
  Yet, yet. The writing, even when consciously trying to be overly profound in its verbosity - for Conrad here prolongs a whole act of the narrative beyond 250 pages, something that Greene could have wrapped up in half of that length without skimming on depth and resonance - still bears all the hallmarks of the writer's ability to craft hypnotic, almost surreal scenes of impending darkness and doom and I was more impressed than bothered than its relentless sprawl and length and even its audacious detour into something unexpected - a kitchen-sink like portrait of the strange, mysterious but oddly convenient marriage of compromise between Adolf and Winnie Verloc, almost a brilliant sub-plot in itself that feels vividly radical for its time. At the same time, the writer's incisive plotting of the parallel police procedural with even its competitive battle of wits between the two men assigned for the case is equally compelling. And as said before, the last act of the novel, prolonged as it is, is nevertheless a protracted scene of secrets, inconvenient truths, grief, guilt, horror and catharsis spilling out recklessly, laced with a rich strain of the darkest irony.
  
  This is then, far from Conrad's greatest novel but even a slightly lesser work from a master like him is head and shoulders above the best work of a lesser writer than him. "The Secret Agent" was a very good read - dark, dystopian, compelling and also one that I might revisit again. But for now, for all its virtues, I need to breathe some fresh air.
  
  
• 
  Ivana Books Are Magic

  THE SECRET AGENT AND TERRORISM
  
  I wanted to read this novel for a while. When I saw it referenced in a book I was reading, I decided that it was going to be the next novel I was going to read. Really any excuse to read more of Conrad’s works will do it for me, but this time I was particularly drawn by the theme- the exploration of political terrorism. Unless I’m mistaken, this is not a common theme with Conrad. Well, it is not a common theme in literature period.
  
  How many really good novels were written about terrorism? There are plenty of books written about terrorism (mostly by journalists and political analyst), but in the literary world it still seems to be somewhat of a taboo. I haven’t done much research or official counts, but when it comes to my personal reading experience- besides Herbert’s
  The White PlagueWhite Plague and Rushdie’s
  The Satanic Versess nothing comes to mind. Those are the only two ‘acclaimed’ novels I remember reading that were about terrorism. There are others, I’m sure, but probably not at the top of the best-selling list.
  
  Interesting that today when terrorism is so wide spread - it not as a common theme in literature as one might expect. So, it was certainly fascinating seeing that someone explored this subject a while back. This novel was inspired by an actual event- and today when such ‘events’ are plentiful, it is perhaps even more relevant. Having read it, I can say that it does more than just create a plot around a terrorist act. I was happy to find out that The Secret Agent is more than a novel about a terrorist act, it is a novel that isn’t afraid to go into depth and examine the social and the individual dynamics behind it, as well as show what might lead to a person resorting to it.
  
  HOW DOES CONRAD HANDLE THE THEME OF TERRORISM?
  
  I would say Conrad handled the subject matter very well. By creating a protagonist who becomes a terrorist only to keep his job as a secret agent (that he desperately needs so he would be able to support his family), he added an ironic twist to the narrative. I’m surprised by how much I sympathized with the protagonist of the novel, i.e. the secret agent. Mr. Verloc is by no means a likeable character. Yet, there is something very tragic about his life. Supposedly, Mata Hari was killed not because she spied for the Germans but because she failed to supply her employers with any kind of valuable information so they decided to use her as a scapegoat and let her take the fall, correctly figuring out that nobody will miss an aging dancer turned prostitute. Somehow Mr. Verloc reminded me of her. He is an easy pray for someone like Mr. Vladimir. The blending of domestic and personal tragedies with political schemes and madness was done particularly well. The unwilling terrorist is a figure that invokes disturbing thoughts and worrying implications- how much was this the author’s intent, I can’t say but it makes for a very interesting novel.
  
  
  Secret agents are supposed to fight off terrorists, not become terrorists themselves- or are they? In a time when there is considerable evidence that some western governments (or whoever is behind them) might have something to do with the rise of ISIS, one doesn’t find it hard to believe that governments can and will use terrorism as a means to their own ends, i.e. staying in power at any coast. However, it is not only ‘governments’ and ‘social structures’ that are examined and criticized in this novel. Unemployment, lack of money, poverty- those are the motifs behind many actions. Conrad’s makes it evidently clear that life is a rat race. There is no place for romanticism here. The desperate need to stay in power doesn’t lurk just behind government’s officials and their actions—at times you get this feeling that nobody is really what he or she appears to be, everyone seems to have a secret agenda.
  
  THE ISOLATION AND THE UNCERTAINTY
  
  Secrets, secrets, secrets....How much does an average person hide? How much do we hide from ourselves and others? What are our secrets? There seem to be a lot of ‘secrets’ in this novel. A reminder that- both as individuals and society, we all seem to hide a lot. The atmosphere of isolation seemed to be particularly strong in this one. There is a lot of irony written in dialogues, it is very present in the discourse between characters and it only strengthens this feeling. Moreover, I had this feeling there was more irony and sarcasm in The Secret Agent than in other Conrad’s works- or perhaps there were more in the open, not as subtly woven into the story as usual. Speaking of which, this novel seemed even ‘darker’ in tone that other of his works. As always, Conrad doesn’t shy away from examining the dark side of human nature, be it from an individualist or a social point of view. The sinister side of organized power appears as potentially horrifying as the violent madness of anarchism. The conversations between anarchists chilled my blood. The fact that many of them (in this novel) are pathetic figures who prefer talking to doing, doesn't make them less scary. The fascination with death, the desire to end it all- these things are very real. Moreover, these feelings 'of wanting it all to end' can be found in present days as well. The sort of moral ambiguity that is so prevalent today is a slippery ground. Anarchism flourishes easily on the fertile land of moral ambiguity.
  
  THE NARRATIVE, THE PORTRAYAL OF CHARACTERS AND THE ENDING
  
  The pace of the novel suited me just fine. When it comes to Conrad, I’m by now used to his sometimes very long descriptions. When it comes to describing every physical and psychological aspect of his time, this writer really takes his time- to the point it can be distracting to the narrative. I wouldn’t say this is a ‘reader-friendly’ book, but it is not terribly difficult to follow either.
  
  It did take me a long time to read it, but to be fair- it was no fault of this novel. It was neither me nor Conrad, it was a vicious disease I’m fighting and the fact I’ve been in and out of hospitals for the last few months. The only fault I could find with the novel is a bit of unbalance. Conrad is amazing when it comes to drawing incredibly detailed portraits of all of his characters, but there was a point when the combination of profound soul searching and the succession of characters felt overwhelming.
  
  I did enjoy reading this one and for the most part the plot seemed well developed. I only struggled a bit when it came to the middle of the novel. At times I even struggled with keeping my focus, but in the end it was more than worth it. The ending was immensely powerful. I didn’t expect Conrad to write something so brutal and naturalistic. The actions of one female character (and her complete transformation) caught me completely by surprise, but all the same- it made perfect sense in the context of this sad story. I don’t want to say anything more to avoid the spoilers, but the ending really fitted the bleak tone of the novel. I felt like I saw another side to Conrad, another style of writing that is more bitter and naturalistic than poetic, but equally brilliant.
  
  Would I recommend it? Absolutely. It is an original and a though-provoking novel, albeit a rather depressive one.
• 
  Carlo Mascellani

  Presentata come una (presunta) spy story che si svolge nell'Inghilterra di fine Ottocento, in realtà, a mio avviso, appare più come un dramma di disperazione egoistica calato in un contesto di spionaggio. La storia non ha equilibrio. Azioni mancano di approfondimento psicologico, approfondimenti psicologici mancano di azione. Digressioni interminabili (soprattutto inframmezzate ai dialoghi, tali da far dimenticare chi stava parlando poco prima) sono bilanciate da capitoli in cui l'azione si svolge in poche parole, troppo in fretta. Ciò che rimane di questa storia è solo l'idea di un dramma colossale in cui trionfa l'egoismo dei singoli (ognuno preso a realizzar solo progetti personali anche a scapito degli altri), che, nonostante i vari sforzi, per nessuno dei protagonisti giunge a conceder gli obiettivi sperati. Credo fosse più questa l'intenzione di Conrad, ma lo sviluppo della storia sembra poi render incompleta l'opera finale.
• 
  Aitor Castrillo

  Novela leída en la sala de Telegram "Libro de Cine" del Club Literario Atreyu.
  
  Hoy hemos comentado la última meta y el sentimiento de confusión ha sido bastante unánime entre los participantes. Anarquismo, terrorismo, espías y la etiqueta de "una de las grandes novelas del siglo XX" generaron unas expectativas que en mi caso no se cumplieron.
  
  Me ha gustado la forma en la que está narrada la historial, pero no he conectado con el fondo ni con las acciones que iban realizando los personajes.
  
  Soy de poner el foco en lo bueno y tiendo a poner muchas estrellitas por aquí, pero hoy me voy a disfrazar del tacaño Señor Scrooge porque me ha costado terminarlo.
  
  El próximo lunes comentaremos en Telegram la película Sabotaje, basada en El agente secreto de Conrad. Confío en que la visión cinematográfica de Hitchcock me encaje bastante mejor.
• 
  Faith Simmons

  Now, here is a novel that I can almost guarantee you I never would’ve read if not for school. The very title “The Secret Agent”, suggests an espionage thriller, the likes of which have never been my cup of tea. However, having now completed this odd little book, I can say that I was very surprised. This story is not so much a spy thriller as it is manual of anarchism. Centering around a group of anarchists in early 20th century London, The Secret Agent is unsettling to read, and quite full of Marxist sentiments. It reads similarly to Dostoevsky’s “Crime and Punishment”, except more political. The ironic thing is, as a failing writer in his time, Conrad wrote this novel as a desperate attempt for some cash, a sort of “beach novel” in modern day terms. But oh boy is it as far from that as a novel can be. This book is dense, sometimes for good reason and sometimes not. I still haven’t quite made up my mind about whether or not this novel exhibits absolute mastery on Conrad’s end, or absolute tomfoolery. Either way, this novel is a great choice if you’re a literature enthusiast looking to expand your repertoire, but if you’re looking for a light read, I would not recommend this one.
• 
  Raya راية

  "الحقيقة يمكن أن تكون أكثر قسوة من رسم كاريكاتوري."

  
  رواية بديعة عن الإرهاب والحركات الثورية، وتشريح نفسيات الإرهابيين والجواسيس والعملاء.
  لم أكن أتوقّع أن أحبها أو أن أتعلّق بها!
  
  

  ""الأدب هو التاريخ، تاريخ البشرية، ولا شيء آخر. بل هو أكثر من ذلك، الأدب يقف على أرضية صلبة، يعتمد وجوده على واقعية الظواهر، ورصد الأحداث الاجتماعية، بينما التاريخ يعتمد على الوثائق، وقراءة المطبوع والمكتوب. لهذا، الأدب أقرب إلى الحقيقة، لكن بغض النظر عن هذا. المؤرّخ فنان أيضاً، والروائي هو المؤرّخ، الحامي، الحارس، والمفسّر للتجربة الإنسانية."
  

  
  
  ...
• 
  Bram De Vriese

  Pretty depressing atmosphere but worth reading.
• 
  Anna Carina S.

  Hallo Herr Conrad! Was für eine Entdeckung.
  Da haut der mir doch Wisschenschaft vs. Kunst um die Ohren, als würde mich das Thema dieses Jahr nicht schon zu genüge verfolgen. Webt das genial in eine Agentenstory ein, die vor politischen, soziologischen und psychologischen Betrachtungen nur so strotzt und nebenbei voll meinen Humor trifft. Eine nüchterne, groteske Satire, voll ernsthaftem Humor. Kein Platz für Sentimentalität.
  Wahnsinnig dichtes Buch. Das muss noch mind 3x gelesen werden um alles zu begreifen und zu erfassen.
  
  Das war mein 2. Anlauf mit dem Buch. Du musst dafür bereit sein. Kommst nicht zurecht, lass es ruhen und nochmal ran. Das Buch kommt Dir nicht entgegen, Du muss die Schwelle übertreten 😬
• 
  Sharon Barrow Wilfong

  Although I find Conrad way too verbose, this work was an interesting study in psychological realism. The mystery takes on an original form as we retrace the same time period through different eyes before arriving at the conclusion. A remarkable commentary on human nature.