Abstract

Of the critical eyes that have focused upon Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, perhaps none is as insightful as Edward Said. Said repeatedly turned to Conrad’s tale as a privileged point of access to the tensions of colonialism. What is most remarkable about Said’s reading is the hesitancy and uncertainty that surrounds it – qualities that mirror Marlow’s troubles about his own story. Said’s reading is concerned with the form of the story, with its position as a cultural artifact, a tribute to the society that it represents before that’s culture’s other, that it nonetheless is placed into intimate contact with. Taking Heart of Darkness as a cultural work, while at the same time paying particular attention to the rhetorical richness of the form of the story itself (the narrative displacement, the precise description of the situation of the Nellie, the description of Marlow, the patterned interruption of his voice, etc.), allows one to glimpse the limiting function of colonial culture. At the same time, as such a limit, it provides a place of encounter for counter-narratives, a place where the difference between a colonial society and its other might be revealed through the structural affinities and dissimilarities between their narratives. Tayeb Salih’s Season of Migration to the North is such a counter-narrative, and employs its structural parallels to Conrad’s novella to refashion the cultural limit between the colonizer and colonized. The center of Salih’s novel is the complicated relation between the narrator and Mustafa Sa’eed, both of whom have returned to Sudan following sojourns in England. While there is an obvious (but shallow) parallel here to Marlow and the narrator of Heart of Darkness, the echo is reinforced by the structural parallels of the narrative. The centrality of the Nile in Salih’s story – a river that serves both as a marker of native identity and as a place of civic, colonial projects – echoes both the Thames and Congo; the relations between the narrator, his past, and Sa’eed and his past, reflect and complicate the relations between Conrad’s narrator, Marlow, Marlow’s memory, and, finally, Kurtz. Most telling of Salih’s deliberate engagement with Conrad is the final, brief scene in which the narrator enters the river that (presumably) took Sa’eed’s life and there confronts the question of the maintenance of native identity in the wake of a migration to the heart of colonial power. Here Salih plays on the same structural ambiguities that Conrad only implicitly invokes, and that Said thematizes in his analysis. Like Conrad, he deliberately chooses not to offer a solution. For to offer a solution would be bind a society with a set limit. What we find in Salih’s novel is both the acceptance of culture as a form of political life, and also the rejection of culture as a justification of oppression. As Said notes, Conrad cannot find a way out of his society; he can only invent Marlow as a protest. Salih echoes this protest, but where Conrad’s tale ends in the sterility of darkness, Salih’s, precisely through the distinction of its rhetorical form from Conrad’s (one that also echoes), concludes with an urgent cry for other voices to take up the task of valorizing the multiplicity of cultures that illuminate the globe.