This book is highly entertaining and quaint, and it also teaches acceptance and peace through example. With views that even today are still evolving in America, Whitman almost seems to have written this book in 2050, and just slipped it back in time for us to read now.

Nostromo is a novel much like War and Peace. Often seen as Conrad's greatest work, it contains clear - one might say appalling - insight into the human condition in the century that was just beginning. Conrad's father had served time in Siberia-like exile with his young family in tow, for participating in revolutionary, patriotic Polish politics. The experience had shortened his parents' lives and left Conrad an orphan at an early age, giving the writer a personal preview of what the new century was going to be like for so many others.

The novelist's modern insight was not only on the political and social front but also into man's sense of identity. With Godot-like despair, Decoud, the character closest to Conrad in Nostromo, "beheld the universe as a succession of incomprehensible images." Stranded by himself for several days he becomes suicidal, realizing that "in our activity alone do we find the sustaining illusion of an independent existence as against the whole scheme of things of which we form a helpless part." At the same time it is beautifully written and is a gripping adventure - so can work on many different levels. Anyone who reads novels should read this classic.

Revolution is a fertile ground for nascent ideologies, and neology is perhaps the richest algar on which emerging heroes feed upon. Costaguena is a territory existing only in the unparalleled imagination of Conrad, whose mind was perpetually stimulated by an abstract, unknown, and merely projected world. Nostromo is his instrument of oscillation; ultimately a pendulum caught in the momentum of change, he falls into the precipice that separates the glory of selfhood and the danger of vanity.

From the beginning, Conrad sheds equally heavy recognition on a string of characters. Charles Gould an European capitalist trapped in his father's tragic political enmeshment, Decoud an uprooted native who dies proving his credential, and Antonio Avellanos an audacious aristocrat who carries the torch of her generation are have the protagonist make-up. But following the Greek formula, Nostromo is the true hero who fumbles into falsity because of his one défaut: hubris. The enormous vanity develops into his temptress, and in a way, Nostromo makes the conscious choice to let his incorruptible pride corrupts his morale.

The fatality of Nostromo, very much like many of Conrad's protagonists, marks the inability of men, in the utmost bleakness of mental solitude, to reconcile to the goodness of nature.

Joseph Conrad is one of the most effortlessly cosmopolitan writers in the English language, and "Nostromo" finds him in a fictitious South American country called Costaguana whose mountains are a bountiful resource of silver. And Conrad is probably the only writer who can transform his novel's hero from an all-around tough guy to a heroic savior to a sneaky thief to a tragic victim of mistaken identity through plausible twists of fate without ever letting the story fall into disarray.

The main action of the novel takes place towards the end of the nineteenth century in a town called Sulaco, which is the base of operations for the San Tome silver mine up in the nearby mountains. The administrator of the mine is an Englishman named Charles Gould, whose primary challenge is to find American and European speculators to invest money to keep the mine in business. The other problem he faces is a civil war between the present government and a faction of rebels led by a general named Montero. Gould's wife Emilia is a prominent figure in town, an elegant matron with a philanthropic attitude towards the downtrodden native mine workers and townspeople.

The hero, Nostromo, is an Italian sailor who settled in Costaguana for more lucrative work and is now in charge of keeping the dockworkers -- the "cargadores" -- in line. When Montero's troops invade Sulaco, Nostromo and Martin Decoud, an aristocratic Frenchman who runs Sulaco's newspaper, escape on a boat with the town's silver treasury to protect it from the marauders. Their boat is sideswiped and damaged by a ship commanded by a rebel colonel named Sotillo, and they are forced to moor on a nearby island and bury the treasure there. This island is the future site of a lighthouse to be maintained by the Violas, an Italian family whose patriarch, Giorgio, once supported Garibaldi and still reveres the man like a deity. There is obviously much more to the plot, too much to reveal in this review, and there are many additional important characters, but these are best left for the potential reader to discover.

Narratively, Conrad keeps the story moving with plenty of action and suspense combined with the typical excellence of his prose. Structurally, though, is how Conrad's novel intrigues its reader: He frequently shifts viewpoints, in both place and time, to give the effect of different perspectives of both the immediate events and the long-term history of Sulaco. Contemporary reviewers of the novel apparently saw this technique as an artistic flaw; in retrospect, it seems well ahead of its time.

Thematically, the novel presents a debate about the benefits and problems of imperialism and colonization, using Costaguano as a model colony and the Gould Concession as model imperialists. When Sotillo accuses foreigners of robbing his country of its wealth, Gould suggests to him that a country's resources (i.e., Costaguana's silver) can be used as an asset only from the cooperation of the native workers and the capital and technical knowledge of the colonists. Such a concept seems relevant to global economic development throughout the twentieth century.

Another thick complex Conrad adventure has a great vivid setting and his usual playful narrative style that exposes the same story at different times through several different points of view, all which clash over the big silver mine in the center of everything, which seems to control every action in the plot. The most riveting aspects of the tale (outside the revolution and the tortured bonds between the characters) happen but briefly on the water. Comparisons to Lord Jim and Heart of Darkness are inevitable though this one stands out on its own, provided the over detailed writing doesn't off put the casual reader. Once again, as with every Conrad piece, you have to read carefully, and be on the look out for abrupt changes in time, place and thought, which he purposely intertwines to expose a larger picture: a rather effective way to unleash the English language, considering that it wasn't Conrad's original native tongue. Title character Nostromo stands out as the key tormented romantic "hero" but the rest of the abundant cast each have their dramatic moments near and around, and before and after him as well. JC weaves all their lives into the same colorful pattern. The silver mine by the time all is finished has power over each of them, a very hypnotic and manipulative symbol of greed and loss. Don Martin Decoud, next to Nostromo himself, makes an impression as the story's most heartbreaking character. He becomes the most tragic person in the book.

At first I was forced to read "The Mayor of Casterbridge" in school more than 12 years ago. Reading it slowly made an impact on my life. This book always served a special purpose in my life. It introduced me to the wide world of Literature. It sort of enlighten my interest and liking for English literature. Now re-reading it not only brought back fond memories of my yester school days but also renewed my liking to one of the greatest writer of all time Thomas Hardy.

Through this novel I came to the understanding of Irony and oxymoron. Hardy totally wrote with a sense of awareness of human characteristic and he had a amazing style of mixed humour with tragedy.

His protagonist,Michael Henchard's life was under the microscope of Hardy.

I love the way the story began I quote:"ONE evening of late summer, before the nineteenth century had reached one-third of its span, a young man and woman, the latter carrying a child, were approaching the large village of Weydon-Priors, in Upper Wessex, on foot. " I love the Englishness and the sense of intriguing events that would follow...

In brief, Michael Henchard was a drunk who sold his wife and daughter at the fair. Later he realised his mistakes he work real hard and eventually became the mayor of Casterbridge. His life took another twist 20 years later when his wife and daughter came back to his life plus a few more other characters adding on the complexity of his life.Soonafter events unfolded and many things became to go against his way and then came his downfall. Indeed Michael Henchard's rise and fall were filled with compelling details and his encounters with numerous intestering people.

What I love most about this novel was the way Hardy depicted Henchard's behaviours and thoughts and totally enhanced his weak character and irresponsibleness with dashes of ironies. His sardonic literary style were brilliant and at the same time he also vividly described the scenery and situations. Another greatest of Hardy was his ability to create innovative characters still account for in modern contemporary days and he was a pioneer in analysising human's weakness and blended it into his creation. It's a vintage classic,psychoanalytic and intriguingly written ,a must read for all books lover.

I remember having read this book in high school. I immediately fell in love with Hardy. (I was also fond of Hardy Boys at that time, so in my opinion the name Hardy acquired a special significance.) Unfortunately, though, I never liked another book by him quite so much. I've read Tess of the d'Urbvilles, Under the Greenwood Tree, Far from the Madding Crowd(which was perhaps his second best novel, as others here have affirmed), and perhaps a few others. It is strange, or perhaps significant that I remember the exact circumstance when I was reading this book. It must have been about ten in the night. I had cleared my study desk, and unlike my common practice of lying on my stomach on my bed to enjoy a book into the night, I sat down on the straight-backed chair at the desk to read it. Very soon, I was overwhelmed by the narrative of Mr. Hardy. My father came in to see what I was up to, saw the tears streaming down my face as I turned the pages of my book, and quietly went away. I have never before owned any story books- my parents told me to read out of libraries. But now I am 22, and have started earning some money of my own, and I'm going to start a little collection of my most beloved books, to pass on to my children, perhaps? And this is among my very best.

I read this novel in English class, like most people probably did. It was one of the best assigned to us.

Hardy is a gifted author. He writes in a clear style with vivid descriptions that really bring the setting alive, without making the reader (at least this reader) feel inundated with borning, unnecessary detail.

The thing that I look for most in a novel, however, is quality characterizeations, and this book had them in spades. Dialogue was used effectively to flesh out characters. These are not stock characters, either. These people have flaws and shades of grey. They seem as though they could be real. I found that I could relate to the characters, and I did empathize with them, even when I didn't agree with their choices. Everyone had clear motivations. The characterization of Henchard shows that Hardy clearly understood the notion of the tragic flaw and the tragic hero/anti hero.

Students who have to read this book as part of their English class may find it a bit on the long side. I would urge you to stick with it; once you get through the initial chapters the book will pick up (a commonality that all British classics seem to share). The book is easy to follow and understand. It is a key novel that marks the shift from Romantic Age to the Victorian Age, so it's an important read for anyone who has a serious interest in English Literature.

The stories in this book are sea tales in Conrad's tradition of pessimistic, psychological fiction. Typhoon is particularly good, but the other stories are interesting as well. If it seems like Conrad is just writing adventure stories, well, that's just not true. He's writing about the most important themes, and setting them against a backdrop of exciting seafaring and travel.

If a reader finished Heart of Darkness, and enjoyed it, then that reader might want to pick this book up next, and give it a whirl.

I first stumbled onto this book as an English major in college, and I found it fascinating. This volume--not quite 600 pages of encyclopedia-style entries of 20th Century authors--struck me as a usefully coherent overview of modern letters, as presented by someone who seems to have absorbed the whole of literature. Like fellow critic Harold Bloom, Martin Seymour-Smith has apparently read everything.

The book's most appealing quality is also its biggest weakness: Seymour-Smith is an almost unbelievably biased critic. Listen to him on Sinclair Lewis: "Lewis is only of socio-anthropological interest; as a writer, he is almost worthless." Or John Barth: "ingenious, clever, admirable--and a crushing bore." Or Yukio Mishima: "evil and cruel... no more than a nasty little boy." He spends far too much time examining the personalities of the authors, and he pretends to know more about them than, I think, he has a right to believe; the Mishima quote above is all too typical.

He is also capable of highly eccentric critical judgments. Very, very few critics have ever judged Wyndham Lewis as "without question the greatest English-language writer of the century." He takes a surprisingly dim view of many writers commonly considered among the preeminent of the century--Eliot, Yeats, Mann, Nabokov, Hemingway, Shaw. (To be fair, though, he's very often dead on the money, championing oft-overlooked authors like Francois Mauriac, Robert Walser, Robert Musil, others.) His prose style is often needlessly convoluted. He's terribly fond of cramming long parenthetical asides into the middle of sentences.

Nonetheless, one has to respect Seymour-Smith's positions, even if they're sometimes difficult to agree with. The book is, above all, a valuable reference guide for "serious" readers looking for suggestions about what to read next. (I have myself discovered more than a few obscure but worthwhile authors from this volume.) If you read it in this light, and not as the gospel truth, then you'll likely get a lot out of it.

Joseph Conrad's 1907 novel, "The Secret Agent," is a difficult little book. It's story is difficult and its characters are largely unpleasant. By difficult and unpleasant, I don't mean to say the novel isn't any good. Far from it. These terms I mean to denote the impenetrability of motive, of sense. The story of a group of anarchists, police, and a family caught in the middle in late Victorian England, "The Secret Agent" is far from Conrad's subtitle, "A Simple Tale". The novel, for me, is about hatred, mistrust, and breakdowns in communication.

"The Secret Agent" begins early one morning in 1886. Mr. Verloc, a secret agent for a foreign embassy, who lives in a small apartment with his wife Winnie, her mentally ill brother, Stevie, and their mother. Keeping an eye on a particularly ineffectual anarchist community in London, Verloc pretends to be an anarchist revolutionary himself. As the novel opens, Verloc is called in by his new employer Mr. Vladimir. Vladimir, discontented with the apparent lack of production out of his secret agent, and even further with the lackadaisical English police, wants Verloc to act as an agent provocateur, and arrange for a bomb to spur the English government to crack down on the legal system. As religion and royalty are, according to Vladimir, no longer strong enough emotional ties to the people, an attack must be made upon "Science," and he selects the Greenwich Observatory as the appropriate site for action.

The novel introduces us to a range of wholly unsympathetic characters. The anarchist collective roughly consists of "Doctor" Ossipan, who lives off his romantic attachments to women barely able to take care of themselves; "The Professor," explosives expert, who is so insecure, he is perpetually wired with a detonator in case he is threatened by police capture; and Michaelis, the corpulent writer, engaged upon his autobiography after a mitigated sentence in prison. Conrad's portrayal of this cabal is wholly ludicrous - a band of anarchists that are better at talking than doing anything to achieve their undeveloped goals. No better than these are their nemeses, the London police, here represented by Inspector Heat, who identifies so much with the common criminal element, you'd think he was one himself; and the Assistant Commissioner, who is so dissatisfied with his desk job, that he would do anything to get out on the streets - but not so ambitious as to upset his nagging wife and her social circle.

At the diffuse center, if it has one, of Conrad's novel, is the Verloc family, held together by ties no less tenuous and flimsy than any other community in the work. Verloc and his wife communicate and interact by monosyllables and the broken bell of their front door. Winnie Verloc knows nothing of her husband's secret life, and tries desperately to prevent him from taking offence at having to support her infirmed mother and practically useless brother by forming a society of admiration amongst them for her "good" husband. Lack of real communication and sympathy amongst the Verloc household is at the heart of Conrad's satire against late Victorian England.

As the Greenwich Bomb Outrage is an early, but central moment in the novel, it would not be spoiling anything to tell you that this is where Conrad really earns his paycheck. His mode of bringing all the disparate characters and subplots of the novel together throughout the rest of the book is both reminiscent of and radically undercutting the influence of Charles Dickens in Conrad's social critique. "The Secret Agent" is a clever novel, but exceptionally bleak. Thinking about other early 1900's British novels like Samuel Butler's "The Way of All Flesh" or Virginia Woolf's "To the Lighthouse," Conrad's "The Secret Agent" is another of these works where a British writer tries to assess the state of the Empire in the aftermath of Victoria's demise - examining past follies to be overcome, and peering without optimism at what lies ahead.

One thing that I find interesting with this novel is that it is set in London. All of the other Conrad novels I have read so far have dealt with the sea or foreign lands. The exotic quality found in his other novels is still present, as the London Conrad describes is as mysterious as the jungles of Africa and the tropics of the East Indies.

This novel also focused on a broad range of characters, unlike some of his novels that set out to tell the story of a particular character (e.g., Chance, Heart of Darkness, Lord Jim).

The story involves espionage and deception, as secret agent Adolph Verloc executes a mission to bomb a place of science (supposedly the Unabomber's inspiration). Adolph the spy/family man, Stevie the slow brother in law and unknowing pawn, the Professor with his suicide bomb, and the deceived wife Winnie are just among the unusual characters Conrad creates.

I especially liked the character Winnie, as her mounting suspicion and eventual realization of her husband's profession and his horrible act provided a moral viewpoint from within the novel (more or less in the form of revulsion and outrage).

Conrad's style of writing can be difficult at times, as he often provides lengthy narrative that can be overwhelming at times. However, acclimation to his style mitigates this, and the results are rewarding.

I really enjoyed this book, and highly recommend this and Conrad's other works.

Conrad's The Secret Agent (Don't get excited, I can't underline from my browser...) is the brilliantly written story of the life of an anarchist in England at the turn of the century. Mr. Verlock is an agent for the French embassy in London, yet, at the same time, an activist for an anarchist revolution. Verlock lives with his young wife Winnie and her slightly disabled kid brother Stevie, atop a store on a run down street in London. The plot takes place around 1895, a time when anarchists in England carried out terrorist acts for their cause. Around 1895, Britain considered Anarchists common terrorists. Though most believe that Conrad portrays Verlock as a terrible person, one finds that by following both Verlock, and the investigation into a failed plot to destroy a London observatory, Conrad really displays the ease with which one's beliefs can change into terrorist plots. Thus, Verlock is not really portrayed as such a bad person. This book, especially relevant in today's age of terrorism, a wonderful read, and full of symbolism, will make you think.

Seymour-Smith deserves one stars for at least trying to tactical the issue of a top 100 book-list review. However, his failure to list a man's book whom put my aunt in the Warsaw Ghetto and started WWII, Adolf Hitler's "Mein Kampf," makes Seymour-Smith's book reek of anti-Semiticism.

How somebody can forget a book that lead to the desecration(the "Holocaust"), of the 6 million covenanted ones, is unexplainable and unjustifiable. How can we "never forget" if the book is not there to review, Mr. Seymour-Smith?

Most of what needs to be said about this collection has been stated in the other reviews. I saw this book and thought "what a great idea!" After reading the introduction and first few selections, I knew there was an agenda floating about. There are run-on sentences all throughout the book, and his overwhelming personal bias is just too hard to look past. Had this book been called "The 100 books I think are important, by M. Smith," then I could have dealt with this better.

Alas...

The concept of this book enraptured me. The thought of getting a synopsis of the World's most influential books was appealing. The index is a course in the history of human thought. However, while the selections are comprehensive, the author is uncomprehensible. He seems more impressed with his ability to form compound sentences (with parentheses, long dashes, semi-colons, etc.) than with trying to help the reader understand the impact of that Book on human thought. I had to read many sentences many times, eliminating the subordinate clauses, in order to figure out what he was saying. Even after figuring out the meaning of the sentence, I had trouble following the author's logic. His reviews were partial and biased (am I redundant?). Only having read the Book in question could I understand what the author was saying. The greatest value of this book to me was seeing how many of the 100 Books selected I had actually read, or at least knew of. I had hoped that this book would point me to other books I might want to read. It has not.

850 pages of rather dull and uninformative prose; does an adequate job of critiquing the novels but give short shrift to the poetry. Unrelenting harangue against the second Mrs. Hardy.