The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale (Penguin Classics)

Upton Sinclair at his best. The story of an accidental "secret agent" and the traps he falls into. The innocent victims this poor man takes with him is another example of the tyranny of the Fascist regimes Sinclair despises. It is an excellent example of this man's skills, never failing to keep the reader guessing as to where the grim tale will lead. If you like Sinclair with "The Jungle" and "King Coal", you will enjoy this one, too.

I don't know whether other writers did it before Conrad, but it stroke me as I re-read "The Secret Agent" that what I found refreshing in George RR Martin wasn't at all new.
Conrad takes us through the point of view of many of its characters and thus tries to have us stop being judgmental and instead be inquisitive.
Just like within the Game Of Thrones saga, we see in that much more concise work how some wills and needs will clash and lead the various characters to their doom.
To me Conrad makes Martin look like a fool because he does that while being much more concise and also because he also grasps the opportunity to make his book a gloomy description of the anarchists while also showing how doom can have a different meaning depending on each character's social class. Thus an aristocrat's mistake ends up costing several lives within the working or rather lower class, and he just gets a loss of social prestige himself.
So Conrad rather than being just entertaining (it's a work of fiction as far as I know), also makes one think and learn.
Where Martin and Conrad might be re-united is in the fact that there is something universal in the struggles they depict.

At first I thought this was a serious book about Anarchist revolutionaries, and Verloc's duties as a secret agent. Then it all goes wrong and you realize that the whole book, about 200 pages of reading was all kind of a big joke on Mr.Verloc, and anarchists in general. Its worth a read.

The ambience was good and so was the tinge of mystery, altho the story was a bit weak and the ending fell a little flat. The story could have been more deveoped to maintain the main theme and keep the reader guessing as to the outcome. Unfortunately, there was little to guess at . I enjoy Joseph Conrad and would recommend this book for a "fast" read if you are running off to do something.

For lovers of Ukiyo-e, pictures of the floating world, Sanshiro is the perfect complement - gentle and joyous literature of the floating world. This book brings to mind the wonderful, ethereal, dreamlike quality of a Turner painting - so apt, with Sanshiro's focus on the textural qualities of clouds and sky. The humour is carried beautifully through the translation. And the sudden ending - initially surprising, but with hindsight, perfect. Soseki brings the times to life.

The kindle edition includes a very informative introduction, which thankfully doesn't over-reveal the plot, as well as an excellent glossary of the unfamiliar Japanese historic and cultural references. Highly recommended.

This is a classic Japanese novel well worth reading. The introductions helped to understand the book. However some of the story of university life and culture seems outdated. In other respects it's a story of a naïve country boy going off to university in the big city and bumbling his way through the changes. Some of that story line will always apply.

The hazards of following a reviewer's suggestions are compounded if you and the reviewer don't share similar tastes. So it was with my purchase of this book based upon an article about classic spy novels I read in the WSJ. It is true that Conrad's book is a classic and it is about a "secret agent", and I wasn't expecting a LeCarre or Fleming sort of read, but I found it plodding and somewhat dull. I was intrigued by the fact that English was not Conrad's first language and by how well he had assimilated the language and culture. I finished the book but it felt like an assignment for school.

Some really beautiful descriptions, and gems - that are themselves worth reading. The slogging through pages and pages to get to them is a significant drawback. I will still try to read other JC books, when I can spare the time.

I enjoyed this book, but it was a little different than most books I've read. There aren't really any protagonists, and none of the characters are particularly likable. You can understand them, and identify with some of them, but not really like any of them.

Wanting to re-read this modern classic after some decades, in the course of a second visit to Conrad's writing, I made the mistake to buy this Signet edition.
Don't do that! It sucks. The print is compact and the letters too small. It has no explanatory notes, which would be important for this kind of book. It is a punishment to read this.
Stay away from this edition and buy the Oxford World Classics pocket book instead.
I will review that shortly.

This Xist book has the cover of and is marketed as Conrads "The Secret Agent." Instead the text is of another Conrad novel "The Secret Sharer." While I enjoyed "The Secret Sharer, it was not the book I wanted to buy/read.

At first Joseph Conrad's writing seemed difficult to read and to understand. It was choppy in places, but as I read on I became used to his writing or maybe he changed the choppy way he wrote. I began to understand the theme of the novel, and all of the characters and their place in the plot. I ended up getting into the story and thoroughly enjoying it.
I read this book as a bookclub selection. Our theme is "revolution"..

My English teacher, Mrs.?, told us in class (1963) that Joseph Conrad was a good witer of English. She was correct. However, I read Lord Jim
at her insistence, and I recollect nothing from the story other than the fact that Lord Jim seemed always to be dressed in white. Was I wrong; was he dressed in tourquoise? I don't recall. Recently, I started to read The Secret Agent because Mrs.? said he was a good writer of English. However, I waded halfway through, a month ago, and I cannot at this point take up the thread again.
Jeffrey M. Dundon

If a 21rst century reader tries reading this as a thriller, he or she is likely to be disappointed. It is about terrorists, political intrique, and obscure foreign influences, and it does have a compelling plot -- will the criminals be discovered? It does not, however, have the hectic pace or high tech violence of most modern spy novels. Also, it does have Joseph Conrad's prose, which is a lot more elaborate than that of current day thriller writers.

But if a modern reader approaches "The Secret Agent" as literature, and as a compelling historical document, he or she will be rewarded. Conrad's psychological acuity makes it vividly clear that the terrorists are human -- something that people in the late 19th century were just as likely to forget as we are today. Conrad's focus on their individual humanity is not intended to excuse them, but rather to show how people become entangled in enterprises of violence. Moreover, I at least was amazed at how much in common terrorism in Conrad's day had with terrorism today. A wonderful, if difficult, exploration of an unusual subject.

I did read this book from beginning to end and I can see how it might be used for a textbook. Nearly all my reading these days is done for entertainment. I thought this book was too little entertainment and too much textbook oriented. The accompanying comments told nearly the whole story. I have found that even when reading Haruki Murakami's short stories, they often leave me wondering if my time could not be better spent.
I have enjoyed the more lengthy Murakami books, but I have been disappointed in the short stories. I am not a literary critic and I'm sure there are many more readers better qualified to comment on the merits of this book. It is the first book I've read by Natsume Soseki. I read it because I thought so highly of some of Murakami's writing. I don't think I would recommend it to others.

3.5
"The Secret Agent" is a lesser Conrad work, but also one of his most accessible. It also has his most interesting female character.
Compared to works such as "Nostromo" and "Lord Jim," "The Secret Agent" isn't as strong. "Agent" is a mostly straight-forward spy novel. Written in 1907, it seems like the grandfather of other British spy novels, such as those by John Le Carre. The novel has some of Conrad's trademark quiet contemplation, but it also has a lot more events and talking than is normally found in his work. This, for me, makes it more accessible to people who haven't read Conrad before. "Heart of Darkness" may be shorter, but it is dense and without a lot of events which modern readers are used to. "Agent" has enough to keep the pages moving while still letting the characters contemplate the people and world around them.
While "Agent" is a spy novel, Conrad has created some interesting characters. He does not "rah rah" for his team, making the British strong, noble men. Instead, pretty much everyone in the novel is vile in one way or another, with the exception of the mentally disabled Stephen and, arguably, Mrs Verloc.
While "Agent" as a whole may be a lesser work, it includes Conrad's most interesting woman character. Women are one of Conrad's rare weak points. They tend to be almost non-existent in his work, and when they are there they tend to be symbolic, flat, naive, or childish. With Winnie Verloc Conrad has done more. Mrs. Verloc is driven. Mrs Verloc acts, and then reacts. Mrs Verloc is interesting, there is an almost Faulknerian feel to her. She is a great change from Conrad's other women.
Overall, "The Secret Agent" is not Conrad's best, but it's probably his most accessible and may appeal to fans of British spy novels.

Why is The Secret Agent by Conrad one of highest ranked novel of the 20th century? The story is nothing remarkable. The lead character, Verloc, lives in England and runs a shop that sells disreputable goods. He lives with his wife, her mentally challenged brother and her mother. Verloc is secretly employed by another European power. Anarchists are planting bombs all throughout Europe, and Verloc’s employer is concerned that England does not take the anarchist threat seriously enough.

Verloc is ordered to make a strike that will wake up England to the need to be more vigilant against terrorism. Specifically, he is ordered to make a symbolic strike against science by destroying a famed observatory. The local police are watching his shop and other anarchists, and the inspector, Heat, who is watching that group, has to report to an assistant commissioner who doesn’t want to move against one of its members because doing so would disrupt the social circle.

Verloc uses his wife’s challenged brother to place the explosive, but the brother stumbles and dies horrifically. When Mrs. Verloc learns what happens, Verloc makes a confession of sorts, but doesn’t realize how she cared for him. She kills him and tries to flee with one of his comrades who, instead, takes her savings. She ends up committing suicide.

That’s more or less it for the plot. Verloc is the most completely drawn character, and Mrs. Verloc, too, is complete. Heat, the inspector, is believable. The rest are generally placeholders. Why is it so great? Is it the first exposition of modern terrorism? I suppose that could be it. Is it because the way Conrad writes -- sentences that are annoying at first but, when you come to live with that language, they become unbelievably insightful into human motivations -- makes any full-length work of his something that has to be read? Maybe.

I'm not new to the work of Natsume Soseki. Having read _Botchan_ (1906), _Kusamakura_ (1906), and _Kokoro_ (1914) in that order, the next logical step was for me to read _Sanshiro_. While each of these novels has an atmosphere and a tone of its own, they all bear the stamp of a sensitive, perceptive, and compassionate author. These are precisely the qualities that I look for in a narrator, so I found _Sanshiro_ to be a memorable novel.

Published in 1908, _Sanshiro_ is generally described as a coming-of-age story. Like many people, as soon as I hear "coming-of-age," I think of a certain novel by J. D. Salinger. The fact is, Soseki's novel couldn't be more different from Salinger's and/or--as Haruki Murakami points out in the introduction--from most Western narratives written in the Bildungsroman mode. With its first-person naive narrator, _Botchan_ is the Soseki text that comes closest to _The Catcher in the Rye_. _Sanshiro_ would be more accurately described as a campus novel, thought it is also much more than that. (The setting, as the translator, Jay Rubin, points out, is real: the University of Tokyo at Hongo, where a certain pond has come to be known as "Sanshiro Pond" due to the role it plays in the novel.)

Like Yasunari Kawabata's _Snow Country_, this novel begins with a train ride. The 23-year-old protagonist, Sanshiro Ogawa, travels from Kyushu to Tokyo, i.e. from the countryside to the big city, in order to attend college. Two people catch his eye during the ride: a man he will later meet formally as a professor, and an attractive woman who prefigures his encounter with Mineko Satomi, "the girl from the pond." Thus, as Sanshiro approaches the city, Soseki introduces the themes that he will interweave in order to compose the narrative.

Like _Botchan_, _Sanshiro_ is about a fish out of water, this time not a teacher but a student, which is the reason why the novel can be filed under "coming-of-age novels." In a key passage, Sanshiro sees himself as inhabiting three worlds: that of his mother, that of college, and that of women. How will he reconcile them? Bringing our different worlds together may be one of the many definitions of maturity, and _Sanshiro_ explores the way(s) in which this can be done, and/or whether it can be done at all.

_Sanshiro_ does not have a "plot" in the traditional sense of the term. Rather, the reader gets a series of events and the protagonist's moods and reactions to them. Soseki was a master of this device, which in my view earns him the title of poet. It is the same approach to be found in _Botchan_. In short, do not expect the typical, overdone, and--why deny it?--effective exposition>rising action>climax>falling action>denoument formula, also known as Freytag's Pyramid. To give an example, besides telling a story _Sanshiro_ also includes criticism and analysis. The college setting allows for philosophical discussions and existential/aesthetic theorizing, which would sound out of place and pedantic in any other setting.

Regarding mood, _Sanshiro_ is somewhere between the humor of _Botchan_ and the melancholy of _Kokoro_. It is not as poetic as _Kusamakura_, which has been described as a haiku-novel, but as I said before, the narrator has a poetic perspective that his protagonist is also able to reach in a few key moments. If asked which of these four novels is my favorite, I would simply be unable to answer. Great authors often put you in this situation.

If you're looking for another great Japanese novel about college life, Murakami's _Norwegian Wood_ (1987) is the obvious one to try. It was made into a very good film by Tran Anh Hung (director of _Cyclo_ and _The Scent of Green Papaya_) in 2010. My next work by Soseki will be _The 210th Day_.

Thanks for reading, and enjoy the book!

The Secret Agent was a major risk for Joseph Conrad, a London tale of international political intrigue far removed from the symbolic sea adventures he had previously written. That it is not only one of his greatest triumphs but also one of the best novels of its kind testifies to his greatness. The diversity it introduced to his canon is truly remarkable; very few writers have works so different in nearly every respect. It is thus essential not only for those who like his other work but also for those who do not.

The immediate subjects are terrorism and anarchism, and I know of no work that uses them with more brilliance or verisimilitude. Conrad's Preface says that he thought it a high compliment when terrorists and anarchists praised its realism, and he indeed deserved it. He brings this truly underground world vividly to life, depicting everything from speech to customs to dress in believable detail. The vast majority of course want nothing to do with such a world, but the peek is undeniably fascinating. Conrad's psychological insight is particularly intriguing and valuable. All this brings up the important - some would say central - point of how Conrad views these characters. That terrorists and other unsavory personages have been sympathetic to it - particularly the Unabomber's obsession with it - seems to strongly suggest that Conrad leans toward them, but a close reading of the text or mere glance at his Preface shows otherwise. He clearly has nothing but contempt for them; this comes across forcefully in the narrator's ironic mockery and Conrad's noting that Winnie Verloc is the only true anarchist - a terrorist jab if ever one existed. In his view, they were pretentious, portentous, and above all, simply ineffectual with greatly exaggerated self-importance. Thus, though the book does a great service in peering into their dark world, it also arguably gives false comfort in showing them as ambiguously inept. The ominous last paragraph undercuts this somewhat, perhaps reflecting Conrad's uneasiness about the future. From an American perspective, the book of course has added interest in a post-9/11 world, but we must not let knee-jerk reactions blind us to its true worth and value.

This brings up another important point - the novel has long had great relevance elsewhere. Though written in the early twentieth century and set in the late nineteenth, it in many ways encapsulates the uneasy political atmosphere that dominated much of Europe, Russia, Latin America, Asia, and elsewhere throughout the last century. Their citizens have become unwillingly familiar with people like the book's characters and especially their deeds, giving the novel near-prophetic prescience. Its strongly implied portrait of Russian political machinations - taken up directly a few years later in Under Western Eyes - is particularly notable in coming but a decade before the Bolshevik Revolution. Conrad clearly had his finger on the world's political pulse as few artists have. It is also easy to forget that his vision is not limited to extremes like terrorism and anarchism; he vividly dramatizes the political unrest and unjust social conditions that make such extremes possible as well as official responses. In short, he zeroes in on much of what is wrong with the Western world in the last century plus. Almost no one noticed initially, but it became ever clearer that the book darkly anticipated much of the twentieth century's direst events, making it in many ways even more valuable than when new.

Yet it is also a historical novel in the best sense. The portrayal of late Victorian London is one of the most notable of any city in literature. We get a good idea of what it was like to live there, especially in its dark underbelly - and Conrad leaves no doubt that it was far from pretty. His descriptions are very visceral, emphasizing dirt, grime, and overall dreariness. There is widespread sentimental longing for many Victorian aspects, but Conrad does not let us forget the darker side. Again, this is not restricted to those outside the law; Conrad always had great sympathy for the poor and downtrodden and shows their plight here with stunning bluntness. This imparts more emotion than is usual in Conrad, chiefly pathos, and is also very thought-provoking. Conrad always excelled at this last, and The Secret is a preeminent example despite its shortness, giving food for thought on everything from sociopolitical issues to domesticity.

Despite all this, the novel can also be enjoyed on a very basic level as a sort of detective story/spy adventure hybrid. Conrad after all belongs to the golden era of detective fiction and was skilled enough to work in elements without compromising his art. There is not much mystery in the usual sense, but he manipulates the narrative to provide a great deal of dramatic irony and suspense. The spy aspect was more original - indeed one of the first instances of its kind and enormously influential. All this means that those who dislike Conrad's usual settings and plots may well be pleasantly surprised.

As ever with Conrad, there is no conventional hero or anything like one; nearly all characters are indeed thoroughly loathsome. Verloc, the protagonist, is somewhat ambiguous; though ostensibly dislikable as a petty traitor, some have seen him as at least slightly admirable or high-minded in trying to carry out his deed without loss of life and in his strong family support. Like many Conrad characters, he is notable above all for sheer incompetence. He is so hapless that condemning him seems not only superfluous but near-cruel; aside from whether or not we think his end deserved, he can easily arouse either pity or contempt depending on one's charitableness.

His wife is one of the more nuanced depictions; some even see her as the hidden key or the real story beneath all the political trappings. Conrad's Preface indeed refers to the book as "the story of Winnie Verloc." And so it is in some ways. Though Conrad is legitimately called essentially conservative, some have found feminist threads in his work, and this may be the best example. Winnie is a truly tragic figure, a perhaps extreme but in many ways representative example of what a woman can be reduced to in an overtly sexist society. She married for money rather than love and often wonders if she made the right decision; it is easy to say no in today's liberalized world, but such sweeping generalizations are unfair for the time. It was after all virtually impossible for women to get by without a husband's income. More importantly, Winnie is kind and caring, full of sympathy and empathy as almost no Conrad characters are and not without intelligence. How we should view her drastic act is a very open question, as she is arguably more sinned against than sinning and certainly pitiable, whatever her faults. Conrad is not one to lionize characters, but she is one of the few he does not outright condemn, which says much.

With characteristic irony, Conrad makes the mentally enfeebled Stevie the most sympathetic and possibly the most likable character. However conventionally limited, his depth of feeling and empathy nears a human ideal, as may his unquestioning love and loyalty. His revelation on the coach is one of literature's greatest, most powerful, and most thought-provoking scenes, and his conclusions here and elsewhere are very possibly at least as legitimate as the most storied philosophers'. The contrasts between him and other characters, especially criminal ones, is the source of much irony.

As all this suggests, the book is very much in line with Conrad's dark vision, however otherwise different from prior works. Aside from focusing on the criminal and lowly, its overall picture is near-misanthropic; the novel condemns terrorists and their ilk but also seems to say there is not much worth protecting from them. Human interaction is painted very bleakly; love, domesticity, family relations, and nearly every other interpersonal area seems doomed to fail. Communication itself is almost hopelessly futile. There is also a strong fatalistic streak; characters are drawn into terrible situations against their will and seem unable to escape or even comprehend them. The Secret shows humanity on the verge of great distress with little or no hope of avoiding it.

Much of this comes from the unique narrative style and distinctive prose. Conrad is of course a noted stylist, and this is one of his most notable works in that way. His vocabulary is incredible, his descriptions are breathtaking, and he is eminently quotable, which is truly amazing considering that he was not a native English user. There are so many times when he expresses an idea so perfectly and articulately that many will think with a start that they have had such feelings but could never express them, much less so well. The Secret stands out from some prior works, especially the epic Nostromo, in being remarkably concise; Conrad says only what must be said, sculpting precisely. This is clearest in the dialogue, which is almost non-existent and very brief, not to mention distinctly clipped, when present; the characters are so hapless that they can apparently not even articulate their thoughts. The narration is a distinct contrast, teeming with Conrad's ever-brilliant and eccentric language. This implicitly mocks the characters even more, as does the ostensibly neutral narrator's frequent sniping sarcasm. Many have said that the narrator - and thus presumably Conrad - has an almost malevolent attitude. This makes the book simply too dark for some but also leads to significant black humor, almost the only humor Conrad allowed himself; for what it is worth, The Secret is thus his most humorous book, however far from humorous it generally seems.

The story is also notable for being told in an essentially straight-forward way. As always with Conrad, the prose is somewhat dense, but it is substantially less so than elsewhere, and we do not have to work through multiple narrators as so often with him. The story is not linear but is far easier to follow than usual; the feeling of being lost and disoriented that turns off so many casuals is never present. Conrad subtitled the novel "A Simple Tale," and it is indeed simple in this way, at least compared to his other stories, making this his most accessible major work and giving appeal beyond his usual base. However, it is far from simple in ways that really matter - characterization, themes, philosophical and sociopolitical depth, etc. - and may in many ways be said to have the best of both proverbial worlds.

All told, this is essential for anyone who likes Conrad and a good place for neophytes to start, while even those who think they dislike him may be in for (an admittedly dark) treat.

During every age tarnished by the spectre of terrorism, there are novels attempting to address the phenomenon. The Secret Agent is one of the best. It is hallmarked by Conrad's black humour, a sort of cosmic wry joke on the bleak futility of anarchism, and the damage it inflicts on innocent victims. Mr Verloc is a strange man, disconnected in fundamental ways from the society in which he lives and, also, his wife. When he hatches a plan to satisfy a mysterious agent at the embassy and blow up the Greenwich Observatory, the repercussions are unexpected, and his attempts to retrospectively justify them are portrayed with macabre brilliance by Conrad.

In addition, the descriptions of late 19th Century London - the black crumbling streets, the rain, the horse and carts, the gas lamps, are brilliantly drawn, especially in the books's early chapters.

Anarchism was a mysterious and hugely damaging European terrorist phenomenon for several decades during the 19th and early 20th Centuries. Conrad, growing up in Tsarist Russia, knew this well. His vision is an oblique masterly characterisation of this nihilistic force.

Adolf Verloc runs a seedy shop in Soho. His wife, mother in law and brother in law Stevie, know his revolutionary associates, but not the fact that he acts as a secret agent for a foreign power. But when a new ambassador demands that Verloc perpetrate an outrage to awaken the sleeping British public to the threat on their own doorstep, Verloc sees his steady income vanishing so he schemes a bomb outrage that has disastrous consequences-personally, not politically...
Still a classic espionage story, and still profoundly relevant. Where once it was anarchists who posed the terrorist threat, later it was the IRA and today the Islamic fanatics-and Conrad has the whole picture down to a 'T'. All involve the murderous futility of their 'cause', all doomed to fail as mankind is too big and varied to fit into their narrow ideals of Utopia, and the whole is still a game between them and the secret services.
Conrad states that the novel is mostly about Winnie Verloc in the situation she is suddenly thrown into, and this and the detailing of each characters psyche gives strength to the plot and whole shape of the book. There was much indignant outrage when the novel was written (1906) over Conrad's having the police colluding and working with criminals in this 'game', but it has proved to be a remarkable accurate account to this day.
Based on a true incident of a failed bomb outrage in Greenwich , Conrad brilliantly opens up this dark and ugly world for public view. A timeless classic that will forever-sadly- have meaning in a world constantly battling a never ending list of fanatics with causes.

“The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale” is a strange story of terrorism. Conrad set the
stage for what could be an unusual mystery; with characters like Verloc and his wife, that
seemed filled with animosity and suspicion toward each other. And yet, when it came to
personal affairs, Mr. Verloc always needed to know where Mrs. Verloc was at all times;
Except when he went on a holiday without her, and would be gone for weeks. Was he
really on a secret mission? Was it because of possessiveness? Then why would he stay
away for so long? What was Mrs. Verloc afraid of? If it was Mr. Verloc, then why
wouldn’t she leave while he was on one of his excursions?

The picturesque setting took me back in time to old London and a different way of
life as our story began with Mr. Verloc taking his morning walk, right on cue. Knowing
his wife, while taking care of her brother full time, would take care of things at the shop
too; this would leave his mind for other pressing matters that seemed more important to
him at the time. But where did he really go on these morning excursions? Was he meeting
someone else? Was he planning something secret, and could not tell his wife about it?

As the mystery deepened, Mr. Verloc became more agitated and decided to take
Mrs. Verloc’s brother Stevie with him on one of his morning walks after she begged him
to. Was Mr. Verloc dragging Winnie’s brother into something he could not get out of?
One of my favorite parts of the book that showed a lot of excitement was, where
Winnie kept telling Mr. Ossipon to go inside and turn out the lamp. When he
walked inside and saw what had happened, he suddenly knew what terror felt like. This
true-to-life page turner kept me engaged in trying to find the missing clues to the mayhem
and murder, along with Chief Inspector Heat.

This is one of those books that you read really fast because of the suspense--you want to see what happens; at the same time, you know you are skimming through some really great writing, so you know you'll want to read the book over, slowly and deliberately. In short, this is a masterpiece.

Verloc is a dealer in light pornography, a trusted member of a rather inept group of anarchists, an occasional snitch to the police, and an undercover spy, reporting the anachists' plans to an unnamed embassy, which orders him to provoke his group to blow up Greenwich Observatory to bring discredit to the movement and to push England to be tougher on its dissenters. This is the stuff of the typical spy thriller, but Conrad takes it so much further.

Delving into the minds of his characters, Conrad reveals a very bleak picture of humankind: they are not even totally villainous, but only petty, self-seeking, casually corrupt, and, more often than not, capable of hiding their true motivations even from themselves. The London of his story is also bleak, dark, wet, unwholesome. Sounds pretty depressing, right? But it seems very real. This is not a good guys versus bad guys, happily-ever-after kind of book.

The genius of the novel lies in Conrad's ability to convey a characterization indirectly. He says of Verloc, "...he had an air of having wallowed, fully dressed, all day on an unmade bed," and, "Mr. Vorlec extended as much recognition to Stevie (his wife's retarded brother) as a man not particularly fond of animals may give to his wife's beloved cat...." Every character in the book is revealed in a similar manner, and their thoughts are conveyed in such a way that the reader can understand more about the character than he does himself.

Conrad has combined a suspenseful political spy plot with a psychological study of an unsavory London underworld to create a novel with such strong narrative tension that when I finished the last sentence I realized I had been holding my breath.

This novel is a classic of the espionage/terrorism genre. I believe that I've read it three times over the years, as I'm a Conrad fan, and have been so for decades. The first time I read it, I found it a tough slog. Conrad is not easy reading, and I think that accounts for a sizeable portion of the negative reviews. However, when I read it again, it grew on me, as I was able to see things I had totally missed before. The bottom line is that it's not a true thriller--it's more literary than that. But, if you have the patience to really dig into it, there's a lot of value in it.

We live in uncertain and even dangerous times. Cruel beheadings are shown on the internet, stories of war and terror lead the nightly news and the daily paper is crammed with reports of violence and mayhem. It is easy to think that our age is perhaps especially cruel. And yet it isn’t. Not long ago it was the brutality of communist systems that appalled the West, of terror rampages of the Bader Meinhof Gang or the Munich Olympics, the mad mullahs of Iran and so on.

So it is interesting to find a superbly written book about terror in a time long ago. The Secret Agent is just such a book, and how marvelous it is. Its subject is the seamy, sordid world of anarchists in Edwardian England. The year is 1907 and the main characters are Adolf Verloc, a small-time pornographer and part-time secret agent and anarchist, and his long-suffering wife Winnie. The story could seem seriously dated and improbable, but only if you forget how really terrifying the anarchists of that time were. They were that era’s terrorists, and they struck with great violence and cruelty. Crude bomb-makers blew themselves up in crowded trains and cozy cafes in Paris, crackpots from obscure political sects took potshots at crowned heads and political figures. And more victims fell than just the Archduke and Archduchess of Austria at Sarajevo. William McKinley, the U.S. president, was assassinated, as was an Austrian empress, a French president, an Italian king and a Spanish prime minister. The crimes were vicious, shocking and deadly, just like today.

Conrad conjures up this time of paranoia, delusion, cruelty and stupidity with all his considerable powers. He takes the reader deep into the criminal mind at work, with great subtlety and art. It is all very chilling and macabre, but at the same time it is so fascinating that you cannot avert your eyes.

Much of the story concerns a plot to bomb the Greenwich Observatory outside London, designed to be a symbolic attack on knowledge itself. But the real meat of this story is what is going on inside the heads of these odious characters; Conrad takes the reader on an intimate interior tour of their thoughts and calculations. It is a psychologically horrifying tale, but it is told in an old-fashioned, Hithcockian way. Only three people die in this tale, but the level of suspense is kept at a crackling level and the narrative bowls along at a pressing pace. The story unfolds with a sly, almost lewd sense of humor and an unhealthy relish for the macabre. It is a great story, told with unfailing skill and a blood-curdling charm.

There is little to add to the thousands of scholarly articles written about this great classical novel. In this review I just want to make a general point.

The main part of plot of The Secret Agent is a failed conspiracy to blow up the Greenwich observatory at the end of the nineteenth century. In the wake of the 9/11 attacks, this novel was praised as clairvoyant. A number of columnists dig out Conrad’s take on the terrorist mind: “impervious to fear”, “lacking the great social virtue of resignation” and suffering from an odious, intolerable, and humiliating sense of injustice.

But, in The Secret Agent, most social rebels are not fanatics driven by hatred, but narcissistic personalities driven by vanity, “the mother of all noble and vile illusions”. “In their own way the most ardent revolutionaries are perhaps doing no more but seeking for peace in common with the rest of mankind—the peace of soothed vanity, of satisfied appetites, or perhaps of appeased conscience”. Moreover, politicians, bureaucrats, diplomats, and police officers (of all ranks) are also moved by personal “impulses disguised into creeds”. “We can never cease to be ourselves”, writes the narrator towards the end of the novel.

Conrad is a thoughtful pessimist. He is suspicious of “all men whose ambition aims at a direct grasp upon humanity—artists, politicians, thinkers, reformers, or saints”. He is also skeptical about rational attempts to improve the world. His point (and the general point that I wish to make in this review) is simple enough: “history is made by men, but they do not make it in their heads”.

Despite its title and subject matter--terrorism--don't approach this novel expecting the pacing of a contemporary thriller. The suspense builds slowly as Conrad introduces a bizarre cast of obnoxious characters. London is no bed of roses. Conrad's intimate knowledge of the city was gained from his practice of taking long and wide-ranging walks. The city he describes is a dingy, oppressive, monstrous place, an urban "heart of darkness." The storyline doesn't move in a linear fashion and there are jumps that require the reader's close attention. The dialogue can be difficult to follow as well because the author doesn't always identify who is speaking. These challenges aside, The Secret Agent is a brilliant, groundbreaking novel of the early 20th century. The Oxford World Classics edition has a useful introduction, notes on obscure references and word usage, and a chronology of Conrad's life and times.

Joseph Conrad's ''The Secret Agent,'' focuses on an anarchist plot to blow up the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, designed by the eponymous secret agent to incite a government backlash, a precursor to contemporary conspiracy theories. Conrad's villain, the Professor, is always armed with explosive devices strapped to his person suggesting the book may have been an inspiration to Yasser Arafat's disciples.

Even so, Conrad's characterisation of The Professor was not an innovation in Edwardian fiction, but rooted in the tradition of Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot. Instead, there is a satirical aspect to the work, concerning British and European attitudes toward terrorism and counterterrorism. Several of the characters are ridiculously typical, including the too shrewd Russian Mr. Vladimir, the bumbling policeman, Chief Inspector Heat, the anachronistically named, and unready British aristocrat Sir Ethelred. The intended crime is risibly based on a failed attempt to blow up the Royal Observatory in 1894, mismanaged, as in the novel, by foreign saboteurs. The ineptness of the terrorists only serves to demonstrate that the countermeasures of the authorities are both pointless and draconian.

There is a motive provided for the intended crime, being Vladimir's hatred of science, or at least a sense of inadequacy that it evokes in the mind of the Russian diplomat, whom Conrad describes as an employee of an embassy from a foreign country. Vladimir is a caricature who orchestrates a crime he presumes the anarchists would favour, whom he wants his secret agent, Verloc, to pretend to be. Despite being violent, maladroit lunatics, the anarchists believe they are rational agents of right in a world of deluded madmen. Ironically, Conrad mocks the diplomat, yet still endorses his view that unquestioning faith in science that typifies secular British society, is just as absurd as any other sacrosanct fetish.

Conrad wrote his novel when there was a rash of political assassinations in the late 19th century, causing the western governments to behave more like autocratic, czarist Russia than enlightened democracies that looked down on the excesses of Eastern Europe, including Conrad's native Poland. ''The Secret Agent'' provides a perspective from a writer who is more familiar with the effects of successful terrorists, and the brutal reprisals their anarchic crimes provoke.

Joseph Conrad's ''The Secret Agent,'' focuses on an anarchist plot to blow up the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, designed by the eponymous secret agent to incite a government backlash, a precursor to contemporary conspiracy theories. Conrad's villain, the Professor, is always armed with explosive devices strapped to his person suggesting the book may have been an inspiration to Yasser Arafat's disciples.

Even so, Conrad's characterisation of The Professor was not an innovation in Edwardian fiction, but rooted in the tradition of Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot. Instead, there is a satirical aspect to the work, concerning British and European attitudes toward terrorism and counterterrorism. Several of the characters are ridiculously typical, including the too shrewd Russian Mr. Vladimir, the bumbling policeman, Chief Inspector Heat, the anachronistically named, and unready British aristocrat Sir Ethelred. The intended crime is risibly based on a failed attempt to blow up the Royal Observatory in 1894, mismanaged, as in the novel, by foreign saboteurs. The ineptness of the terrorists only serves to demonstrate that the countermeasures of the authorities are both pointless and draconian.

There is a motive provided for the intended crime, being Vladimir's hatred of science, or at least a sense of inadequacy that it evokes in the mind of the Russian diplomat, whom Conrad describes as an employee of an embassy from a foreign country. Vladimir is a caricature who orchestrates a crime he presumes the anarchists would favour, whom he wants his secret agent, Verloc, to pretend to be. Despite being violent, maladroit lunatics, the anarchists believe they are rational agents of right in a world of deluded madmen. Ironically, Conrad mocks the diplomat, yet still endorses his view that unquestioning faith in science that typifies secular British society, is just as absurd as any other sacrosanct fetish.

Conrad wrote his novel when there was a rash of political assassinations in the late 19th century, causing the western governments to behave more like autocratic, czarist Russia than enlightened democracies that looked down on the excesses of Eastern Europe, including Conrad's native Poland. ''The Secret Agent'' provides a perspective from a writer who is more familiar with the effects of successful terrorists, and the brutal reprisals their anarchic crimes provoke.

Written in the early years of the 20th century, when anarachy, socialism, revolution, and an undercurrent of violence surged through the veins of most developed countries, "The Secret Agent" not only reflects the fears and reactions of contemporary society as it responds to new challenges, but also tells a very human story that ultimately makes this book the classic that it is.
"The Secret Agent" himself is a married man who runs a shady store on a side street in London. Early on, he is called to task by a higher up and given a task that does not particularly sit well with what little conscience he has. He is not a cold or heartless man, but functioning as a covert operative in a world of anarchists and bomb-makers, he has come to rationalize violence and its necessity in a changing world. Before he acts in accordance with the wishes of his boss, Conrad introduces us to a number of his cohorts- revolutionaries, anarchists, felons- each with his own set of values and personal reasons for believing and acting the way they do. By the time the act of violence is committed, the reader is unsure whose side to take in the struggle that is occurring- that of the police and society, eager to accuse someone, even if it is the wrong person; or the revolutionaries, willing to commit acts of violence and murder in order to achieve their ends.
To further confuse matters, Conrad introduces two characters, innocents, who play a major role in the development of the plot- the Secret Agent's wife, who has unknowingly loved and supported a man of deceit for many long years, and the wife's brother, a simple man with mental deficiencies. It is these two characters who represent the heart and soul of this book and who provide an emotional force and importance behind the convoluted events that eventually occur.
While there are obvious parallels between this book and the modern day problems we face with terrorism today, the core of this story is a human drama that resonates well after the book is finished. Conrad is an excellent writer, and his ability to address complex and far-reaching issues- anarchy, terrorism, violence as a means towards an end- and place them in a compelling and engaging story of real people living life, results in one of the most noteworthy literary accomplishments of the 20th century.
This is a must read!

I must admit to having a love-hate relationship with Conrad. His novels possess an undeniable power, and I have read each of his novels with the utmost fascination. Yet, I can't say that actually reading a Conrad novel is an enjoyable experience. His vision of the world is a tad too bleak, his confidence in human nature way too despairing, and the overall atmosphere way too gloomy for me to derive pleasure from reading Conrad.
Although not set in one of the exotic locales which we associate with Conrad, THE SECRET AGENT is both one of his finest and one of his most typical novel, with one exception. In most of his books, the plot revolves around situations which inevitably lead to tragedy and disaster, but in which a central character is often able to somewhat redeem his life by an act or acts of personal heroism. The feel is usually quite similar to that of Norse mythology, in which Gods and men will struggle at the end of the world against the forces of evil, but will lose. The challenge is to oppose the evil heroically. But in THE SECRET AGENT, the central character is anything but heroic, and is in no truly important way opposed to the powers of evil.
I have to admit to being perplexed by claims that Conrad was a great prose stylist. I will confess that I find that with his prose, the sum is greater than its parts. If you examine his sentences, he is without question, along with Theodore Dreiser, perhaps the worst constructor of sentences in the English language. Perhaps having learned English only after reaching adulthood is to blame. Many of his sentences are grammatically opaque. Frequently his sentences are incomplete or badly constructed. Almost never does Conrad seem to sense the rhythm of the language. Perhaps this lack of rhythm is what many mistake for a great prose style. I have spent a fair amount of time in the secondary literature on Conrad, and so far I have yet to find a single Conrad scholar who felt that he possessed a command of the English language. The consensus seems to be that he is a great writer despite his struggle with the English language, not because of any mastery he possesses over it.
Overall, I hold this to be one of Conrad's most important novels, on a par with UNDER WESTERN EYES, HEART OF DARKNESS, VICTORY, and NOSTROMO.
Ironically, Alfred Hitchcock filmed a version of THE SECRET AGENT, but it was not the movie with the same name. Hitchcock's THE SECRET AGENT was actually based on Maugham's Ashenden stories (which Maugham says were based upon his own experiences as a secret agent; he claims to have been one of the more inept agents in history). Hitchcock's version of the Conrad novel was SABOTAGE. Hitchcock changed many of the details, and his religious beliefs never allowed him to engage in the despair one finds in Conrad (Hitchcock was a devout Catholic). Although his version resembles Conrad, it isn't a very faithful adaptation either in plot or in spirit.

Perhaps "Verloc" wasn't even his name, perhaps he wasn't English or French either. He didn't stand out, he didn't attract attention. In Conrad's day, the phrase, "banality of evil" had not been invented, but the novel he wrote illustrates it brilliantly. A vague man of no strong personality or convictions, but of lazy temperament, winds up as a German agent in London, dealing with all the anarchist/radical leftist groups that existed there in the 1880s. This man works as an informer for the British police as well. He runs a pornography shop as a cover and lives with a pretty, but unexceptional woman of lumpen background who finds him a secure, reliable partner. She has a weak, mentally-retarded brother. Verloc's German `handler' demands a particular outrage to force the British government, by dint of subsequent public opinion, to crack down on terrorist/anarchist groups and individuals that found Britain a convenient refuge from severe repression on the Continent. After great strain, Verloc manages an effort at the required "outrage", but with dire consequences for the family. Nobody gets out of this alive. The British police, in the persons of two officers of very differing backgrounds and mentalities, soon piece together what has happened.

As in other of Conrad's novels like "The Heart of Darkness", "The Secret Sharer", and "Almayer's Folly", the main beauty of THE SECRET AGENT is its psychological sophistication. Each character, even minor ones, is drawn in brilliantly accurate strokes, so that the reader understands the inevitability of the actions of each.....the plodding, scheming Verloc, the unquestioning wife, the lost, pathetic brother-in-law, the sharp man of action (Chief Inspector), and the more thoughtful, careful Assistant Commissioner, not to mention a society lady, and an assortment of crazy, lecherous terrorists who can't organize their way out of a paper bag. Conrad is no doubt one of the greatest writers in English. This novel of the seedy side of Victorian London---not by dint of fast moving action...is one of his best. This is not a beach read. It is a classic of world literature.

Some have suggested reading this book to understand the events on 9/11. That is a debate that I don't want to take a stand on here on the store.

First, this is a good book, and a worth-while read in any case. Conrad is not only worth reading, he's a necessary read.

The story is set in London in 1907. The secret agent Verloc is double-agent for an unspecified country, most likely Russia, and a member of a small anarchist cell. The anarchists are particular to the point of eccentricity. Some members are merely players, others enjoy the sound of their own voice, and another enjoys mixing chemicals to create explosives. Like some modern `home grown' terrorists, these anarchists are ineffectual - much talk and little action. Verloc's only income besides his pay as an provocateur comes from a dusty little shop where he sells odds-and-ends - and pornography. Vladimir, who runs Verloc out of the unnamed embassy, threatens to cut Verloc off unless he carries out a magnificent operation.

Conrad begins to weaves an interesting tale of political intrigue and psychological insight.

The mastermind of the plot isn't an anarchist either he's a Russian diplomat frustrated with the refusal of the London police to arrest the anarchists which are in his way. In short, a government sponsors an act of terrorism in order to provoke a crackdown on terrorists.

It's a very interesting story, and one that any lover of good spy stories, literature or stories of human nature.

I must admit to having a love-hate relationship with Conrad. His novels possess an undeniable power, and I have read each of his novels with the utmost fascination. Yet, I can't say that actually reading a Conrad novel is an enjoyable experience. His vision of the world is a tad too bleak, his confidence in human nature way too despairing, and the overall atmosphere way too gloomy for me to derive pleasure from reading Conrad.
Although not set in one of the exotic locales which we associate with Conrad, THE SECRET AGENT is both one of his finest and one of his most typical novel, with one exception. In most of his books, the plot revolves around situations which inevitably lead to tragedy and disaster, but in which a central character is often able to somewhat redeem his life by an act or acts of personal heroism. The feel is usually quite similar to that of Norse mythology, in which Gods and men will struggle at the end of the world against the forces of evil, but will lose. The challenge is to oppose the evil heroically. But in THE SECRET AGENT, the central character is anything but heroic, and is in no truly important way opposed to the powers of evil.
I have to admit to being perplexed by claims that Conrad was a great prose stylist. I will confess that I find that with his prose, the sum is greater than its parts. If you examine his sentences, he is without question, along with Theodore Dreiser, perhaps the worst constructor of sentences in the English language. Perhaps having learned English only after reaching adulthood is to blame. Many of his sentences are grammatically opaque. Frequently his sentences are incomplete or badly constructed. Almost never does Conrad seem to sense the rhythm of the language. Perhaps this lack of rhythm is what many mistake for a great prose style. I have spent a fair amount of time in the secondary literature on Conrad, and so far I have yet to find a single Conrad scholar who felt that he possessed a command of the English language. The consensus seems to be that he is a great writer despite his struggle with the English language, not because of any mastery he possesses over it.
Overall, I hold this to be one of Conrad's most important novels, on a par with UNDER WESTERN EYES, HEART OF DARKNESS, VICTORY, and NOSTROMO.
Ironically, Alfred Hitchcock filmed a version of THE SECRET AGENT, but it was not the movie with the same name. Hitchcock's THE SECRET AGENT was actually based on Maugham's Ashenden stories (which Maugham says were based upon his own experiences as a secret agent; he claims to have been one of the more inept agents in history). Hitchcock's version of the Conrad novel was SABOTAGE. Hitchcock changed many of the details, and his religious beliefs never allowed him to engage in the despair one finds in Conrad (Hitchcock was a devout Catholic). Although his version resembles Conrad, it isn't a very faithful adaptation either in plot or in spirit.

The funniest, strangest, or worst (depending on how you look at it) thing about Joseph Conrad's "The Secret Agent" is that it makes light of a situation -- terrorism -- that maybe was not a big deal at the time it was written but nearly a hundred years later has become a fearsome world problem. The terrorist activity described in this novel apparently is based loosely on a real incident, but Conrad avoids specifying any actual political motivations and instead makes his story as basic and general as possible.
The "terrorist" is a most unassuming man named Mr. Verloc. He runs a stationery and news store in London where he lives with his wife Winnie, her mother, and her mildly retarded brother Stevie. For the past eleven years he has been drawing pay from an unspecified foreign Embassy for occasional information on the activities of an anarchist organization, the "local chapter" of which is comprised of a bunch of malcontent duffers whom he has managed to befriend. An official at the Embassy, Mr. Vladimir, thinks Verloc is not very bright and plans to use him as an agent provocateur to get the anarchist organization in trouble. He suggests to Verloc to blow up an unlikely but symbolic target, the Greenwich Observatory; as the source of the prime meridian or zero-degree longitude, it's like the seam of the world. Using a bomb made by another of society's outcasts, a creepy fellow known only as the Professor, Verloc enlists Stevie's help to carry out his scheme.
Fast forward to immediately after the (unsuccessful) bomb blast: Police Chief Inspector Heat is investigating the incident, reconstructing the crime back to its source, and, interestingly enough, competing with his own superior officer. The post-blast events are where the novel really develops unexpectedly, in which we see what kind of tenuous relationship Verloc has with his wife, and the cruel treachery of one of his dishonest comrades. The structure of the novel is remarkable in the way it establishes the chronology of events, sets the pacing, and lets the scenes unfold as naturally as if they were being staged.
I found this novel to be a lot of fun and, despite the serious subject matter and the fact that it was considered quite violent for its time, actually kind of funny. I see it as not an attempt at a spy story or "thriller" but rather an early example of black humor, in which the narrative is filled with wry wit and each character is given a certain comical edge as if Conrad were making subtle fun of the whole business. It is a book that defies expectations, discards formulas, and immerses itself in the tremendous possibilities of the creativity of great literature.

In _The Secret Agent_, Conrad takes an incisive look at post-Victorian England.
Even as it emerged from the Industrial Revolution as Mistress of the World - the last and the greatest of the old, geographically-powerful empires, and one on which the sun never set - Conrad reveals the British culture to be at a cross-roads with itself. Morally and ideologically bankrupt, struggling to come to grips with its deep-seated past even as it looked despairingly into the future, this England is a mix of characters straight from a Dickens novel living in a world of drudgery and despair worthy of Kafka.
The story focuses on Verloc, a secret agent who has outlived his time. Included in the narrative, as well, is the circle of naive and outdated visionaries and utopians with whom he comes into contact. The plot follows Verloc's stated task - the planting of a bomb at the Greenwich Observatory, a metaphor relating to the struggle of science versus ideology that cannot be missed. The end result bespeaks not the superiority of science over ideals, or vice versa, so much as it testifies to human weakness and fickleness.
Above all, Conrad has written a psychological novel - a broad narrative that examines human motive and methodology against the backdrop of a city that hangs stubbornly on to the mores of the late Victorian Age. More poignant still, its citizens seek to find the meaning of their existence beyond the impersonal, mechanical demands of their place in society - and failing that, they seek to inject their own meaning and sense of purpose into the world around them. Accordingly, Conrad's analysis of the masks people wear is masterful and gripping.
Seemingly rather pointless as far as plot development is concerned, _The Secret Agent_ was never meant to be a thriller and should not be read as such. Instead, it is a brilliantly ironic and incisive look at human nature and the lengths we will go to to preserve our perceived purpose in life. Read it and you will come away with a new sense of perception not only of yourself and those around you but also of the reality you live in.
- Benjamin Gene Gardner

The prose in this book is not actually very difficult. I suspect that what people tend to find difficult is the singularly unpleasant nature of the characters taken together with a very different look at terrorism than is popular in literature and film today.

"You anarchists should make it clear that you are perfectly determined to make a clean sweep of the whole social creation. But how to get that appallingly absurd notion into the heads of the middle classes so that there should be no mistake?"

The Secret Agent was one of the first novels to address issues of terrorism and espionage. The way that Conrad approaches it is brilliant-- these are not wild-eyed men, driven by passion. The main character in The Secret Agent, Verloc, is just doing his job-- in the end, he commits the central atrocity in the book out of fear of being sacked. There is virtually nobody likable in this book with the exception of Stephen, Verloc's gentle and retarded brother in law.

The book is best seen as a dark comedy with an ensemble cast. The complacent British police who think it best to leave the anarchists alone, the motley crew of would-be terrorists-- each with their foibles and weaknesses. It feels at times like watching a clockwork unfolding-- one that you know will take its toll on the most innocent participants.

This is one of Conrad's most important works, but not one of his most likable. I thought it was a very good read. I certainly think that it is a thought-provoking book, particularly considering the times. Highly recommended.

I rate this irony laden story on par with Soseki's most important novel, 'Kokoro.' Joseph Conrad's novels had to travel to Africa and the East Indies to establish the parameters within which the Japanese lived their daily lives as they grappled with the effects of Western Rationalism upon a nonindustrial society. Fortunately for world literature, Soseki Natsume was up to the task of documenting this transitional period with grace, wit, and sensitivity. Soseki's books generally are either serious ('Kokoro') or satiric ('Botchan,' 'I Am A Cat'), 'Sanshiro' is both and it is the better for it.
After graduating from a provincial school Sanshiro enters Japan's greatest university and encounters a number of Tokyo sophisticates, among them westernized girls, famed artists and writers, jaded academicians, dedicated scientists and his best friend Yojiro a lovable, well-meaning scoundrel who constantly throws his shy and self-effacing compatriot into the thick of things. Because there are so many elements that make up this heady mix, the reader has the choice of processing the story on many different levels. At the very simplest level it is about first love and disappointment, but it is also a commentary upon the effects of the new on the old, East meets West, the city vs. the countryside, the traditional and untraditional, youthful idealism and middle-aged disappointment. This probably sounds as though it might be tedious or pedantic, but really Soseki's treatment of the themes is gentle and a delight to read. For instance, when one of Sanshiro's heroes is disgraced by a well-meaning plan that goes awry, Soseki blunts the pain by riffng on the inscrutability of the 'philosophical smoke' streaming through his victim-hero's nostrils as he puffs on his pipe. A stream of smoke by which Sanshiro's roguish friend claims to read emotions. Also, when Soseki lampoons the intellectual conceits of his characters, he does it in a way that the reader must seriously consider each proposition before the joke becomes apparent. As to the pain of disappointment in love, this is always sad and heartfelt yet Soseki is able to ameliorate it by leaving the subject and the object of the heartbreak ambiguous as if either side may have been responsible.
This is imagined, but one begins to suspect that Haruki Murakami was influenced by this novel and even appropriates some of the themes found in it for his own: mysterious and alluring women who flit in and out of the story, odd scientific and philosophical theories as props, central character as passive witness. It is fun to imagine this and one begins to find other coincidences too. Anyway, it is just a thought, perhaps brought on by the coincidence that Jay Rubin, the translator who does an excellent job of bringing this text to life, also translates for Haruki Murakami.
Readers, this is one of the finer Japanese novels that I have encountered. The author often had me smiling, laughing, cringing, sighing and rooting for the various characters in this well told story.

"Sanshiro" is a coming-of-age novel, Meiji Japan style. This is definitely not one of Soseki's better known novels, especially in the United States, but it still has an appeal and sharpness that transcends time and cultural barriers.
"Sanshiro" is in many ways both different and yet similar to Soseki's most famous work, "Kokoro." Both include tales of heartbreak and tragedy, along with social commentary on Japanese society. For whatever reason, Sanshiro struck me as a much more "modern" book than Kokoro. Using the word modern on a book written 100 years ago may seem odd, but reading Soseki's comments on Japanese society at the time (end of the 19th/beginning of 20th century Japan), then considering the ultimate result of the Meiji cultural "revolution" (the emphasis on Western science and Eastern philosophy which led to militaristic ultranationalism), and then again the state of Japan today and it is clear that Soseki's comments are not outdated.
Similarly, Sanshiro's Mineko is a much more modern, "Western" young lady than her counterpart in Kokoro. Unlike Kokoro's Ojosan, who didn't seem to have a thought of her own, Mineko is beautiful, intelligent, slightly haughty, and has a mysterious appeal about her. She is not some trophy to be captured, but a person to be respected in her own right. I found myself verbally assaulting the annoyingly clumsy Sanshiro when he missed opportunity after opportunity to get to know Mineko better. Of course, when he finally develops some guts it's too late. The blame for this unhappy end falls on Mineko as well, as she is one of Sanshiro and Yojiro's generation's "unconscious hypocrites" in the words of Soseki. Mineko knows that she has found a fellow stray sheep in Sanshiro, yet she ultimately abandons him.
Soseki's writing is again a joy to read. Every time you encounter a passage that seems to start getting a little monotonous, he throws in a paragraph that seems absolutely brilliant. The characters are similarly memorable. I liked Kokoro a bit better, but Sanshiro is still an excellent book that has aged well.

Joseph Conrad's novel, "The Secret Agent" is based on a real-life incident that occurred in Greenwich in 1894. Conrad's novel is built around the known facts of that case and concerns an agent who works for the Russian embassy. The agent, the anarchist Verloc, was well respected when he worked for Baron Stott-Wartenheim, but times have changed. When Verloc is summoned to the embassy, he receives a cold reception from his new superior, Vladimir. Vladimir tells Verloc that he's going to have to start producing or he'll lose the wages he receives. A humiliated Verloc is shocked when he receives orders to blow up Greenwich Observatory. Verloc has been living a double game for some time, and he also provides information to the British police. He married Winnie, the daughter of his landlady after Winnie's relationship with another man collapsed. Verloc and Winnie now run a small shop together, and Winnie is completely ignorant of Verloc's political activities. She's quite aware that several shady characters come and go, but she doesn't ask questions.

Winnie's emotionally damaged brother, Stevie also lives with the Verlocs. While Verloc imagines that Winnie loves him for himself, the truth is that Winnie married him for stability. By marrying Verloc, Winnie thinks she's assuring a safe home for Stevie, and so for her the marriage is a silent, unspoken pact. Verloc provides a home, and she, in return, is a good, uncomplaining wife.

When tragedy strikes in the most unexpected way, the Verloc household is thrown into turmoil. Conrad's novel explores the theme of the individual vs. political beliefs through the tragedy of his characters. Most of the characters within the novel are unpleasant--for Verloc, the 'cause' is secondary to his own skin, but he's willing to sacrifice another to maintain the status quo. Verloc's fellow conspirators are shown to be dismissive of the human race, and careless of any damage caused to the individual (except themselves). Everyone uses each other, and there's a hierarchy even in the police force that promotes use of individuals as long as they provide information. The two 'nicest' characters in the novel are also those who possess no political ideals whatsoever--Winnie and her brother, Stevie. These siblings are bound by the memory of an abusive childhood--Winnie's main desire in life is to protect Stevie, and he can't stand violence or cruelty in any form. These two innocents meet a horrible fate as the result of the 'high' political ideals of others.

The novel is not an easy read. I found the story a little difficult to get into until the drama picked up--this was largely due to Conrad's writing style that is often quite stilted by its excessive verbosity. However, that said, once the drama unfolded, I was unable to put the book down until I finished the final page. The characterizations of Verloc and Winnie are fascinating, dark and bleak. Married for years, the events of one day show how little they understand one another. Conrad considers the fate of humankind by setting a human tragedy in the heart of a political ideal, and he suggests that "the sound of exploding bombs" becomes lost next to a tragedy involving a handful of insignificant people. But the fate of individuals "as numerous as the sands of the seashore" fades into obscurity within a few short years. Is a cause ever worth sacrificing lives for?--displacedhuman

For all the talk of the supposed "difficulty" of this novel, I found it to be one of the best construed and told that I have read lately. It goes well beyond a simple thriller or spy novel; it is an intense human drama in which the characters have real personalities. Verloc is a loser. He has been living, for the last eleven or so years, off the payments of a foreign embassy which employs him to spy and report on the activities of a terrorist cell, also composed of frustrated, useless, all-talk-no-action losers. Other reviewers have aptly described these characters.
Verloc lives also off the meager profits of a news store, which serves as cover up for his clandestine activities, ignored even by his family. This consists of his younger wife, Winny, her mother and her retarded brother Stevie, a sympathetic but hopeless young man.
As the novel opens, Verloc is in deep trouble. The new officers at the embassy are displeased at the results Verloc's work has achieved, and so one of them brutally warns him that the pay will stop if he doesn't produce at least one major act of terrorism, say, blow up the Greenwich observatory, an icon of modern faith in science. Verloc gets obviously dismayed at this order, for he is no terrorist at all, just a scumbag of an idler. I won't spoil the rest of the story up to the attack, but the resulting situation will show how coward these terrorists are (we hope none of them were as bold as other terrorists we know are) and how fragile Verloc's family relations are, especially in view of the terribly stupid action he commits.
This is a very dark tale. None of the characters are attractive, but they are exteremely well developed, and that's what counts. The humor used by Conrad is without concessions: for all its cruelty, I found the bombing scene a very funny one. Conrad makes hard fun of all these types who talk and talk about anarchy, the "Revolution", ideology and their supposed love for humanity, a love conspicuously absent from their daily lives.
How pertinent, in these times, to have a great and darkly funny novel to taka a look at, now that the types have, sadly, passed into action.

I don't want to in any way be condescending, either to those who will read this review, or to those marvelous writers who have gone before, but I do think modern readers do not always approach older writing in the proper frame of mind. We need to remember that the only mass entertainment they had was novels, and the pace, because that's all there was in those days, is understandably slower. What modern writers would dismiss in a line or two might take a page or more for people like Conrad and Dickens. But, oh my, the places you can go, if you just consent to be seated in one of those old-time carriages!
THE SECRET AGENT is certainly a case in point. Like all Conrad--for my tastes, at least--he was a bit difficult to read in places. Conrad really loaded up a sentence. But when he's on his form, he writes some of the best sentences ever crafted in English Literature.
Other reviewers have given many of the plot points, so I won't repeat them here. Let me just say that I just finished reading the novel last night, and many of those images are still with me--epecially those in the last section of the novel.
It was tough sledding in the beginning. Quite frankly, I found myself wondering why some consider this novel to be one of Conrad's finest, but there were enough of Conrad's marvelous sentences to keep me in the book. Then I got to the part where Winnie learned of her brother Stevie's fate, and Mr. Verloc's role in it, Verloc being Winnie's husband. From then to the end of the book it was a ride in a rocket! Conrad's depiction of Winnie's feelings, culminating in her own ghastly actions, must surely rank among the very finest scenes in literature. It was just astounding, especially when one considers that Conrad wrote at a time when women's thoughts and feelings were considered trivial, if they were thought of at all. But those passages that revolved around Winnie's reaction to Stevie's death could have been written yesterday, in the sense of getting down to how a woman in her place would feel. As for the sentences... well, only the masters wrote at that level, and Joseph Conrad is certainly one of these.
If you're one of those avid readers who takes the time to read reviews like this, read THE SECRET AGENT. You won't be sorry you did.

The Secret Agent was published in 1907. It's author is Ukranian born Joseph Conrad (1857-1924) an old sea dog who wrote some of the greatest late Victorian and Edwardian novels in English. Among them are "Nostromo"; "Lord Jim" "Almayer's Folly" and classic short tales such as "Typhoon" and "The Heart of Darkness." The Secret Agent is a departure of sorts for Conrad in that in occurs in London and not on the seven seas or an island in the East Indies.
The Secret Agent is set in late Victorian London. Adolf Verloc is a French-English secret agent who has worked for a foreign embassy in London. He is obese, egotistical, dull-witted and seeks comfort in his home. He owns a slutty pornography shop in Soho where he lives with wife Vinnie, her mother and her dim-witted half-brother Stevie. Verloc is much older than wife Winnie whom he met and courted while living in Mrs. Verloc's boarding house. Winnie dropped a butcher suitor to marry the enigmatic Verloc.
One bright morning secret agent Verloc takes his mentally challenged brother-in-law Stevie to Greenwich Conservatory.. He has given Stevie a bomb to blow up the conservatory. the bomb is accidently discharged when Stevie trips killing the young man in an explosive blast. Police trace the crime to the Verloc's shop when they discover a part of Stevie's collar containing the firm's address.Verloc is later murdered by Winnie who blames him for the boy's death. Winnie is incosolable since her aged mother has recently moved into a retirement cottage and Stevie was like a son to her. Winnie and Stevie were both abused as chldren. Winnie hangs herself because she does not want to die on the gallows. The story is bleak and gloomy told in an ironic manner in which the bloviating Verloc believes to the end that he is the center of Winnie's universe. Instead his distraught wife stabls him with a bread knife. The novel was later portrayed on screen by Alfred Hitchcock.
The novel has many well etched minor characters including Inspector Heat of the London Police who does not agree with his supervisors in how to combat terrorism. Conrad also draws exoticcharacters who espouse anarchism and rebellion against the British government. Most of these persons are pitiful excuses for human beings being sadly misguided in their allegiances. The most memorable is the Professor who disdains humanity as he walks among the swarms of London's population.
Conrad provides the best atmospheric scene setting of any English novelist since Charles Dickens set the London scene in "Bleak House" in the 1850s. The London portrayed is swirling in cold fog, mud, chill rain and gas lit sreets. Conrad's chapter on the trip taken by Winnie, Stevie and their mother to her new home in a retirement cottage is a gem. Notable is Stevie's compassion for an old hansom horse and the poverty and hunger present in the urban jungle where good people suffer daily as they attempt to eke out a living and fight the wolves of hunger.
The novel was prescient in many ways concerning the 20th and 21st centuries bloody with the massive crimes committed by dictators, war and terrorism. Conrad's vision was as dark as Thomas Hardy's in its fatalism and the sadness of life on a godless planet. The novel is relevant for the dangerous days in which we live. Conrad is not an easy read but is essential to an understanding of the development of the modern English novel.

I happened to read this book about six months after reading Chesterton's 'The Man Called Thursday'. There are some similarities that spoiled the Conrad for me - especially because Conrad's treatment of the opening did not have the surreal and creative flair of Chesterton (the end wasn't as inventive either, but that's another story).
Both of these books are about anarchists and yet anarchism as a philosophy is not justified at all - I suspect anarchism was the unjustifiable terror of the time just as communism was to become later. And yet this did disappoint me. About twenty years ago I read 'The Syndic' by CM Kornbluth and in this there is a great rationale for anarchism (not that I think Kornbluth was an anarchist). It got me reading some of the great anarchist writers - especially Emma Goldman and Peter Kropotkin. For me, one of the greatest benefits of reading is broadening one's point of view, entertaining new ideas. So Conrad and Chesterton both disappointed me in having characters I found it difficult to identify with because they espoused philosophies without in any way supoporting them for the reader. (Another more recent example for anarchism is Ursula le Guin's 'The Dispossessed.)
Having said that, I found reading 'The Secret Agent' a labour, just as other reviewers reported. It is so unlike Conrad's other books (although some of his novels I have found difficult to read, but not for reasons of triviality as this one seems to show). But around page 100 things change. The remainder of the novel I wouldn't have missed for anything. It's the great luminous writing of 'Victory', 'Heart of Darkness', 'Lord Jim' and 'Almayer's Folly'. Quite suddenly the characters are engaging in a very personal way, and the events of the novel are surprising and revealing.

Period. When the time comes that I find a better one, I will surely let you know. But this is, pound for pound, the best portrayal of spydom (no, Da Silva and all those other writers really don't know, so give it a rest, or move on). Does it count for our spies, cries a patriotic unbeliever in the back. Yes. No there are no special watches or overarching tech-spying-structures, but the humans behind it remain the same. In many ways even the likes of Le Carre never came close to this book (as damn good as he is).

What this is, is a book not for children. If you like genre spy books, move on. Conrad should really be commended on his books, but especially this one.

The plot of this story would be perhaps too sardonic, too morose, for today's mystery novel. This is not a running-full-of-action agent who gooses the reds and chases after or is chased by the bad guys. This is not Fleming, this is not Clancy, this is not today's secret agent. Instead, it delves into the introspection and seriously saddened life of the protagonist - Mr. Verloc, the secret agent.

Verloc may be an agent - but he is not sauvoir d'affaire. He is laughed at by his peers, is thought of as harmless by the police, and is being used by both. When provoked to do something substantial, he sets about to blow up an observatory. It fails. Instead, his accomplice is blown to smithereens and that sets about the chase and his unreproachable demise.

Eventually, we learn he has not only failed with explosives, but his failure has alienated him from the reds and the police. But, there is worse yet - his failure alienates him from his wife of 7 years and her family. This is a failure of mammoth proportions, as he not only ends up dying for his failures, but takes down his brother-in-law and wife with him.

Conrad's writing style may be out of date. It is difficult for today's reader as his book was written 100 years ago. Conrad's use of the English language often entails his deliberate overuse so that you know that he knows more of it than you know. Polish born boy, and forced to speak Russian by the occupiers, he eventually moved to England to write in its language. He is a foreigner who writes in a foreign language -- a deficit he well overcame.

In one passage he acknowledges foreigners' fluency when he writes, "Verloc . . . had come to the conclusion that some foreigners speak better English than the native." But, Conrad's syrupy use of English can effectively ruin some of the dialogue - for instance when Verloc is interrogated by the police, a low officer laughs at Verloc, the alleged anarchist, for being married as the concept of marriage to anarchists is an "apostasy." Apostasy? Name one of today's cops who uses the word! Name anyone!

Reagrdless of the writing style being dated, this book is well worth reading.

I know there is much to Conrad's book, and that many who have no interest is espionage say the book is not about spying, but I disagree. The book is all about a spy, and what makes a spy, and reasons a man becomes one.

At one level, the spy here, is manipulating the people around him, from this family, his paymaster, his wife, etc, but in reality, its his paymaster, who is not only manipulating him, he's manipulating the entire police force, and thus the country.

Its very complex, but any one who likes spy novels, and conspiracy stories will understand this book much more then those who just read Conrad because he's a great writer. Conrad did not just pick this topic to display his wordcraft, he displayed great tradecraft too.

So, if you like the great game, spy fiction, espionage, read this book, get into the spy's head, and see the plots within the plots, and master the moves!

Enjoy!

The major event of the plot is an anarchist conspiracy to blow up the Greenwich Observatory. An "agent provocateur", Verloc, is the man caught in the middle, a pawn in a game played by a high-ranking Russian diplomat, a leading police inspector and, on the other side, the sometimes clumsy and ineffectual anarchists. One example of the characterisation immediately sticks in the mind of the reader, long after completing the novel. It is the character of the mysterious Professor, a misanthrope and angel of destruction, who supplies Verloc with the explosives needed to carry out the plot and who embodies nihilism at its most extreme. Joseph Conrad is known for his dense and sometimes contorted prose, and the style of "The Secret Agent" is no exception. Though no great storyteller, he nevertheless demonstrates that he is a psychologist of the first order, in his searching analyses of character and motive. The novel is partly a domestic tragedy, a highly innovative and experimental early Modernist work, a darkly humorous tale with lashings of "schadenfreude" and an esponage thriller that anticipates, in many ways, the best and most recent examples of the genre.

In this novel the bombing of the Greenwich Observatory is the event around which story and characters detonate. The Observatory bombers are not anarchists. The culprits are an agent provocateur who has infiltrated the anarchists' ranks and his half-witted brother-in-law. The mastermind of the plot isn't an anarchist either he's a Russian diplomat frustrated with the refusal of the London police to arrest the anarchists. In short, a goverment sponsors an act of terrorism in order to provoke a crackdown on terrorists. The setting for all this is a Victorian London that Conrad describes as "the enormous town slumbering monstrously on a carpet of mud under a veil of raw mist" The idea Conrad sets out to blow up in the novel is modernism's sin of thinking abstractly about moral and human affairs--abstractly, scientifically, impersonally, and instrumentally. The anarchists think this way; the police do, too; and so do the government officials. Conrad dismisses them all. One person who does not think this way is the secret agent's brother in law Stevie who seems to be the pauper version of Dostoevsky's Idiot Prince Myshkin. Verloc's wife, Stevie's sister, Winnie answer's her brother's question about the police with the simplicity and honesty Stevie's nature required "Don't you know what the police are for, Stevie? They are there so that them as have nothing shouldn't take anything away from them who have." In a scene straight out of Nietzsche and Dostoevsky Stevie refuses to ride in a cab because of the horse being whipped to pull them. When the Cabman explains that he is trying to feed his poor children the empathy in Stevie's heart explodes like a bomb within him engendering feeling for the horse, cabman, and his children. "The monstrous nature of that declaration of paternity seemed to strike the world dumb. A silence reigned, during which the flanks of the old horse, the steed of apocalyptic misery, smoked upwards in the light of the charitable gas-lamp." He verbalizes his feelings telling us "Bad world for poor people". In Stevie's mind and heart "To be taken into a bed of compassion was the supreme remedy" Verloc, the secret agent, manipulates Stevie's heart to involve him in his terror scheme which results in disaster. In the future whenever I am about to be less than compassionate I hope to remember Stevie.

In this masterpiece Conrad has engendered an entirely new genre. True, it has some affinities with Wilkie Collins, Dostoevsky, even with James's "Princes Casamassima". But Conrad's famous "irony" (better, cynicism masking nihilist despair), a mordant eating out his "characters" (too strong a word for pre-Kafkan zombies-even Professor is an example of one-dimensional pathetic fanatic with zero potentiality for inner freedom) has given birth to Greene, LeCarre, Koestler and numerous lower-rank authors trekking the "Conradland" of shadowy terrorists, failed assassinations, betrayed spies and hidden manipulators.
In my opinion, one trait is especially pungent in this work: the absence of humanity. From cover to cover, the novel is saturated with disgust: disgust towards fat people (Mr & Mrs Verloc (the latter being a cruel joke on Conrad's own wife, Jessie)), stupid anarchists, pompous bureaucrats, "efficient" but servile inspectors.
"The Secret Agent" is incredibly modern, penetrating (despite, or because of "impenetrable mystery"-see what this phrase stands for), detached and....icily cold.

The secret agent of the title is not a character you can root for but merely pity, as his rather bland vanity sets in motion not only a shocking tragedy but his own downfall as well. The disharmony right below the surface of his fragile, awkward family life finally explodes right about the time he sends his frail mother off to live by herself; the even bigger plot explosion to follow becomes a catalyst for the rest of the story's major events. Conrad's narrative style is often so dense you may lose track of what's going on, but you never lose track of the finely etched characters, whose motives here all cross paths over the same sad (and ultimately pointless) episode. Patient readers will be lulled into a heartbreaking tale whose story elements eerily parallel the terrorist schemes of today. But then again, terrorism isn't exactly a modern day nightmare. (It's been going on throughout history.) Overall, the heavy, thick writing magicially gives way to some very memorable and forlorn people, who never do get to realize their dreams. The clash of law and lawlessness, morality and indifference, and love and family loyalty, feature strongly on practically every page.

As fan of both Joseph Conrad and the spy novel, my biggest complaint about The Secret Agent is that it was oversold as containing insights into 9/11 and the mechanics of terrorism. The Secret Agent is a good spy story (not great) and the writing is perhaps not quite as dense as vintage Conrad can be. This reader did not, however, perceive any particular insights into 9/11 (unless one thinks it really was an inside job).

The story is set in London in 1907. The spy Verloc is double-agent for an unspecified country, presumably Russia, and a member of a small anarchist group. As might be guessed, the characters comprising the anarchists are idiosyncratic to the point of eccentricity. Some members are merely playing, others enjoy the sound of their own voice a bit too much, and one enjoys mixing chemicals to create explosives. At bottom, these anarchists are ineffectual - much talk and little action. Verloc's only income besides his pay as an agent provocateur comes from a sleazy little shop where he sells odds-and-ends - and pornography. Vladimir, who runs Verloc out of the unnamed embassy, threatens to cut Verloc off unless he carries out a magnificent operation.

The story alternatively centers around Verloc's rather odd home life as much as his career as a spy. His wife has married him so that she and especially her developmentally disabled brother Stevie will have some security. When Verloc involves Stevie in the terrorist operation the tale begins its hectic and exhilarating run to the finish.

Conrad weaves an interesting tale of political intrigue and psychological insight. To my eye, the book offers only some insight into the way governments deal with terrorist threats and very little of use in understanding the nature of current threats. Reviewers who rediscovered the book after 9/11 larded the book down with rather grandiose claims of prophetic visions. In the Secret Agent, Conrad gave us a good read (probably a very good read at the time of its writing) and one that belongs on the bookshelf with other notable spy literature (like Smiley's People,Kim (Penguin Classics),Red Gold: A Novel and The Human Factor by Graham Greene to name only a few). That should be enough for anyone.

I must admit to having a love-hate relationship with Conrad. His novels possess an undeniable power, and I have read each of his novels with the utmost fascination. Yet, I can't say that actually reading a Conrad novel is an enjoyable experience. His vision of the world is a tad too bleak, his confidence in human nature way too despairing, and the overall atmosphere way too gloomy for me to derive pleasure from reading Conrad.
Although not set in one of the exotic locales which we associate with Conrad, THE SECRET AGENT is both one of his finest and one of his most typical novel, with one exception. In most of his books, the plot revolves around situations which inevitably lead to tragedy and disaster, but in which a central character is often able to somewhat redeem his life by an act or acts of personal heroism. The feel is usually quite similar to that of Norse mythology, in which Gods and men will struggle at the end of the world against the forces of evil, but will lose. The challenge is to oppose the evil heroically. But in THE SECRET AGENT, the central character is anything but heroic, and is in no truly important way opposed to the powers of evil.

I have to admit to being perplexed by claims that Conrad was a great prose stylist. I will confess that I find that with his prose, the sum is greater than its parts. If you examine his sentences, he is without question, along with Theodore Dreiser, perhaps the worst constructor of sentences in the English language. Perhaps having learned English only after reaching adulthood is to blame. Many of his sentences are grammatically opaque. Frequently his sentences are incomplete or badly constructed. Almost never does Conrad seem to sense the rhythm of the language. Perhaps this lack of rhythm is what many mistake for a great prose style. I have spent a fair amount of time in the secondary literature on Conrad, and so far I have yet to find a single Conrad scholar who felt that he possessed a command of the English language. The consensus seems to be that he is a great writer despite his struggle with the English language, not because of any mastery he possesses over it.

Overall, I hold this to be one of Conrad's most important novels, on a par with UNDER WESTERN EYES, HEART OF DARKNESS, VICTORY, and NOSTROMO.

Ironically, Alfred Hitchcock filmed a version of THE SECRET AGENT, but it was not the movie with the same name. Hitchcock's THE SECRET AGENT was actually based on Maugham's Ashenden stories (which Maugham says were based upon his own experiences as a secret agent; he claims to have been one of the more inept agents in history). Hitchcock's version of the Conrad novel was SABOTAGE. Hitchcock changed many of the details, and his religious beliefs never allowed him to engage in the despair one finds in Conrad (Hitchcock was a devout Catholic). Although his version resembles Conrad, it isn't a very faithful adaptation either in plot or in spirit.

This is a grim, gritty, cynical tale set in the world of the anarchists and secret agents around the start of the 20th century. There are no blind romantics, no overwhelming causes, and no anarchistic politics. As is often the case with Conrad, this is a story about people, people in an exotic world.

The setting is London, the crime an attempt to blow up the Greenwich Observatory. The motives are far from pure: money, careerism, hack value, a peaceful mind. Mrs. Verloc, an anarchist's wife, is at the center of the tale. As Conrad tells us, and shows us repeatedly, she is not a woman to look beneath the surface of things, but she is a woman of some depth.

The story is sad. It is a tragedy, and the ending seems inevitable given the players Conrad has set in motion. This is probably appropriate given the subject matter.

The writing is excellent. The tale is well told. I would have given it a full five stars save for the sheer grimness of the tale. If you are a reader who gives extra points to depressing stories, you should consider this ranking a five.

Again Conrad shows his adroitness at developing a plot. Not only was Conrad a gifted storyteller but he is equally adept at both charcater develpoment and descriptiveness. The Secret Agent is the story of a double agent who becomes a pawn,not only of the government he supposedly represents but with the British officials who have turned him. Trying to impress his handlers, he decides to plant a bomb that ends in tragedy for his own family.Conrad's portyal of anarchists as a bumbling lot with their own self serving agenda is the important point that is characteristic of all of Conrad's woks.
The Secret Agent is not a stylishly written as Nostromo and lord Jim and is a bit faster paced. It also contains a somewhat comedic tone which is unlike Conrad's other works. What i appreciate most about Conrad is that he writes with all the talent and descriptiveness of other great authors but he is also a greta storyteller.

This novel is truly both what Conrad subtitles "A Simple Story," and quite a hard nut to crack. Not having read any of Conrad's other, more famous works, I have nothing to compare The Secret Agent to, but I would say that it proved in my own mind that the man is a master of revealing human emotions and motivations. There isn't a single character, however insignifigant they may seem to the story itself, who is not fully developed, from the Assistant Commissioner of Police to Toodles the Secretary to Winnie Verloc, to the intensly creepy "Professor." Nor was this merely description tacked onto the plot; indeed, it took precendence over the plot and became my purpose for continuing to read the book. For the story is simple, and not overly meaninglful.
I will say that Conrad's prose occasionally slowed me down. Once into the middle of a chapter or a conversation I had no problems, but the beginning of each chapter, especially the early ones, was extremely confusing, and had to be suffered through before the books strengths were revealed.

The beginning of The Secret Agent was a little disappointing to me, but that was mostly because of the style of writing. Although I do not feel this book was as good as Heart of Darkness, Conrad wrote an amazing finish. I felt myself thinking what might have happened, who the bomber may have been. Then when Conrad revealed my thoughts were correct, I felt shaken. Stevie's character had my pity and sympathy, and his end left me saddened. I felt Mrs. Verloc's only recourse would be to kill her husband, yet I was still surprised at her actions. I was almost surprised at how much she picked up from Mr. Verloc when she was in such a derranged state. But what Conrad does best in this novel is portray human emotions. He accurately described how many humans think, and how they react to traumatic situations. The last seventy pages of the novel more than make The Secret Agent worth reading.

Surely one of the greatest books I've ever read, The Secret Agent is a horrifying, oppressively bleak, vastly entertainly masterpiece that sets out to explain the absurdity of any form of political fanaticism. No one is justified in this novel and the pathetic results of the high-minded ideals of every character in the book underlines the nature of both enforced order and violent anarchy.

For all the horror and intense drama of this novel is reads to me as somehow hilariously funny. At the moment when the worst of all possible things happens (leading to the worst of all possible results for everyone) I actually laughed out loud not just in shock but in my own sense of applied justice (a disquieting reaction that made me realize I was actually no better than any of the depicted grotesques, at least as far as allowing my personal sense of morality to pre-judge the humanity (or lack thereof) of anyone.

To give away some of the twists and turns of the plot (despite the Dostoyevskian tone of hopeless doom, this is truly a taut and absorbing spy novel) would be a disservice and so I shall leave off here with the highest of recommendations.

I read this book recently, and I seriously enjoyed the whole experience of reading it. The book, set in London, and based around an attack on the Greenwich Observatory is a fantastic read for those of you who like espionage, moving, exasperating thrillers. The characters, though sometimes eccentric and perhaps, some may say, strange, are realistic to the problems of the early twentieth century, and although the elderly language seldom used today was sometimes hard to tackle, it was a great, magical read. It left me feeling angry with some characters, but also happy that a writer could use twists and turns, and suspense to make a good book a fantastic, gripping novel. If you haven't read it, have a go: you may not enjoy the first part as it mentions hard hitting, truthful, content, but sure enough the sheer thrill of such a book relly is a rollercoaster ride for a reader.

Joseph Conrad's "The Secret Agent" is a very different type of novel from most everything else Conrad wrote. It's a spy novel and set in England, not at sea, like so many other Conrad works, or in a tropical climate. I have read that Conrad says the novel is about Winnie Verloc, the wife of the secret agent, Mr. Verloc. I have to agree. She's the most interesting character in the novel in my opinion and probably the only one that people can sympathize with, other than her brother Stevie. The story is interesting, but you have to be patient because it jumps around alot, and as with many other Conrad novels, there's so much description between the dialogue and action. Overall, it's a very good spy/action novel.

The Secret Agent will appeal to anyone who likes Dickens' satire of Victorian society and its members, and to those who like the revolutionaries scattered throughout the works of Dostoyevsky. Only that Conrad is far more biting in his portrait of Victorian England than Dickens ever was, and even his characterisation is comparable if not superior at points. No one could ever forget, for example, Sir Ethelred, who 'opened a wide mouth, like a cavern, into which the hooked nose seemed anxious to peer'. But Conrad's revolutionaries do not quite topple those of Dostoyevsky (an obvious influence on Conrad despite Conrad's apparent dislike of the Russian). The novel is (thus) primarily character driven; the central idea of the story (the bombing attempt) is so amazingly simple that one almost misses it. The prose is dense and I would not recommend it either as light reading or to Samuel Johnson's 'common reader'.

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.

Many classics of literature seem destined to be either loved or hated by modern readers, as the many of the surrounding reviews attest. Personally, I fall somewhere in the middle on this one, while I can appreciate the book's satirical qualities and commentary on the ugliness of humanity and a morally bankrupt world, I found it choppy, at times tedious, and only occasionally funny. Conrad helped start the thriller genre (and apparently inspired Unabomber Theodore Kaczynski) with this tale of a small group of ineffectual anarchists and revolutionaries, their pseudo-leader Verlock and his family, and the attempt to destroy the Greenwich Observatory in London. Verlock is a small time pornography dealer who enjoys his uneventful family life as well as his personae as secret agent for a foreign power. His existence is thrown into turmoil when a new Russian control officer orders him to take some action or lose his status (and paycheck) as agent. Unable to convince any of his circle to take action, he rather predictably enlists his mildly retarded brother-in-law to carry a bomb to Greenwich. Conrad based the outlines of his plot on a real-life unsuccessful attempt to blow up the Observatory by a French anarchist, who apparently duped his dimwitted brother-in-law into carrying the bomb, which then exploded prematurely.
The story was first published as a serial in the New York weekly Ridgeway's during 1906-07 and did not appear in book form until 1907. Its origin as a serial perhaps accounts for some of the choppiness in pacing, although some of the descriptive sequences are quite nice. The tone throughout is one of despair and bleakness (in this area one can see the seeds of noir style), as Verlock's wife is ensconced in a loveless marriage designed to provide her retarded brother and elderly mother with a stable and secure life. When the bombing goes awry, Conrad's cynical family unit implodes, as betrayals lead to murder and then suicide, the innocents are swept away in a tide of injustice. The story seems self-consciously melodramatic at the end and it's hard to feel any true sense of tragedy.

You know this isn't a political piece right on page one when Conrad nicely suggests (with tongue-in-cheek Victorian-era delicacy) that the key business of his seedy little "double agent" is really just selling diry postcards to pervy men in raincoats. Verloc is sucked into this bombing plot solely because it has been so long since he has gathered any useful information for the foreign embassy paying him off. Although Nabokov would have sneered at being compared to another writer, this novel (by another master prose stylist who came to English as a second language) surely anticipates Nabokov's ouevre with its mounting pattern of bitter ironies. The Secret Agent is a very funny book, and really Conrad's only work I admire unhesitatingly.

As I read through the "critical" comments of high school and college students who are assigned to read the works of Joseph Conrad then fuss and fume at the very idea of it, I find myself deeply disappointed by their lack of appreciation for the subtleties of great literature. They have little time or patience to devote to an author who provides his readers with so much vivid description, building toward a stunning and inevitable climax. In the "Secret Agent," Conrad points to the frailties of the human condition, the large forces of nature at work that conspire against the simple and downtrodden man trapped by his own cunning devices. Mr. Verloc is a simple, plodding peasant; and just why he embraces the anarchistic cause is never made clear to the reader, but no matter. He is trapped in a sterile nightmarish world where the idealists and the self-proclaimed revolutionaries are as morally bankrupt and empty of human emotion as the system they purport to overthrow. Conrad's characterizations are brilliant. His use of dialog and description, a hallmark of the early twentieth century realists, and the grim ending to this novel is a masterpiece of understatement. It is too bad that fine old classics of literature like this one and the more famous Conrad novella "The Heart of Darkness" must be subjected to the vapidity and sophomoric opinions of a generation of students weaned on MTV, the Simpsons, and thirty-second TV soundbytes.

Its important to remember, that the novel is written at a time when democracy is not exactly well spread through Europe, and most of the continental countries are having a hard time trying to understand why the English shelter anarchists and Marxists and even allow them to publish their works.

No doubt that Conrad met a few of them in literary or social circles and found them amusing in their contradictions. That is why the "criminal mastermind" Mr. Verloc is portrayed more as a very lazy bourgeois than someone whose mind is set upon creating the conditions to change society.

On the other hand, Conrad is faithful to its belief on the perennial existence if not preeminence, of a dark side of the soul in everyone. So the atmosphere in which every character dwells is gloomy, sad and purposefully shows that no motivation is really beyond a person's self interest, even if you claim that you are doing it for God and country, to save the planet or your mother.

I must admit to having a love-hate relationship with Conrad. His novels possess an undeniable power, and I have read each of his novels with the utmost fascination. Yet, I can't say that actually reading a Conrad novel is an enjoyable experience. His vision of the world is a tad too bleak, his confidence in human nature way too despairing, and the overall atmosphere way too gloomy for me to derive pleasure from reading Conrad.
Although not set in one of the exotic locales which we associate with Conrad, THE SECRET AGENT is both one of his finest and one of his most typical novel, with one exception. In most of his books, the plot revolves around situations which inevitably lead to tragedy and disaster, but in which a central character is often able to somewhat redeem his life by an act or acts of personal heroism. The feel is usually quite similar to that of Norse mythology, in which Gods and men will struggle at the end of the world against the forces of evil, but will lose. The challenge is to oppose the evil heroically. But in THE SECRET AGENT, the central character is anything but heroic, and is in no truly important way opposed to the powers of evil.

I have to admit to being perplexed by claims that Conrad was a great prose stylist. I will confess that I find that with his prose, the sum is greater than its parts. If you examine his sentences, he is without question, along with Theodore Dreiser, perhaps the worst constructor of sentences in the English language. Perhaps having learned English only after reaching adulthood is to blame. Many of his sentences are grammatically opaque. Frequently his sentences are incomplete or badly constructed. Almost never does Conrad seem to sense the rhythm of the language. Perhaps this lack of rhythm is what many mistake for a great prose style. I have spent a fair amount of time in the secondary literature on Conrad, and so far I have yet to find a single Conrad scholar who felt that he possessed a command of the English language. The consensus seems to be that he is a great writer despite his struggle with the English language, not because of any mastery he possesses over it.

Overall, I hold this to be one of Conrad's most important novels, on a par with UNDER WESTERN EYES, HEART OF DARKNESS, VICTORY, and NOSTROMO.

Ironically, Alfred Hitchcock filmed a version of THE SECRET AGENT, but it was not the movie with the same name. Hitchcock's THE SECRET AGENT was actually based on Maugham's Ashenden stories (which Maugham says were based upon his own experiences as a secret agent; he claims to have been one of the more inept agents in history). Hitchcock's version of the Conrad novel was SABOTAGE. Hitchcock changed many of the details, and his religious beliefs never allowed him to engage in the despair one finds in Conrad (Hitchcock was a devout Catholic). Although his version resembles Conrad, it isn't a very faithful adaptation either in plot or in spirit.

Mr Verloc is a `closet' anarchist and a secret agent. Much of his work to date has been of the sedentary type, until the appearance of the smooth talking Mr Vladimir. Dissatisfied with the lack of action by Mr Verloc, he threatens to fire him if he doesn't do something dramatic soon. The suggestion is to blow up the Greenwich observatory in order to wake the slumbering middle classes.
This causes Mr Verloc weeks of anguish as he tries to figure out how to go about this task. His anguish is so much like that of Dostoevsky's Raskolnikov. (The similarity is not accidental; Conrad was heavily influenced by Dostoevksy's style). He finally manages to find a way out of his predicament and it is here where the plot gets thicker. The final quarter of the book is where the real action is, and the twists and turns aren't as predictable as you first make it out to be.

For those brought up on the quick, descriptive style of the modern novels, Conrad's roundabout way of saying things can get a bit irritating, but then that is what makes a classic right? Whatever your preference, I would recommend this book to those who like a good detective novel with a dose of non-conventional `philosophy' thrown in.

After 100 years, Conrad's distinctive novel of espionage and counter-espionage is still the apex of the genre, the indispensable masterpiece. It's bleak, mordant, suspenseful, and funny, and it's wildly under-appreciated judging by the other reviews here on the store.

This is so perfect a spy novel that frankly no other spy novel needed ever to be written. Conrad has said it all. It's tightly plotted, completely plausible except perhaps for a few too-convenient chance meetings on the street, and profoundly insightful into the "politics" of terror. And it's freshly pertinent, even to the point of including an inadvertent suicide bomber.

There are no "good guys," it's true, and nobody on any side of things with indomitable physical or mental abilities. Every single personage is picturesquely grotesque. Every character considers himself cleverly invulnerable yet reveals himself to be irremediably foolish. The descriptions of these moral clowns and the deplorable world of mucky squalor and gilded corruption in which they move are the best writing, sentence by sentence, that Conrad ever did -- worthy of Dickens or Dostoyevsky. There's a sardonic, scornful humor in every scene, however grizzly. This is the darkest picture of human nature I've ever read. Even love and loyalty are degenerative psychoses. One expects a certain fatalistic pessimism from Conrad, sprawling across an ungainly plot, with complicated narrative overlays and ambiguous judgments. The Secret Agent is utterly different; it's as terse and unified as its subtitle claims; it's "a Simple Tale."

"Mr. Verloc, going out in the morning, left his shop nominally in charge of his brother-in-law. It could be done, because there was very little business at any time, and practically none at all before the evening. Mr. Verloc cared but little about his ostensible business. And, moreover, his wife was in charge of his brother-in-law."

That's the first paragraph; if you don't already feel in the presence of a master of subtle indirection just from that much, perhaps you'll be as unresponsive to this great novel as the hapless fools would be who populate its pages.

Hitchcock made a film of it in the 1930s. I've never seen the film, but I can imagine that Hitchcock would have read the novel with sardonic glee and captured its humor. It's Hitchcock in prosody.

Yo! Peeps, if I tell it's totally NOIR, will you give it a ride?

Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent brought up many interesting topics for discussion. The group of motifs Conrad chose to weave into his 1907 novel is highly political in nature: Anarchist views, science, capitalism, socialism, idealization, private ownership, poverty, the police, and possibly even Muslim extremism. For a novel written when it was, in many places The Secret Agent seemed an almost prophetic tale of Mr. Verloc, a secret agent in London.

Interestingly enough, its first prophetic topic is of great importance in today's terror-stricken world, the plot of the story centering mainly on an Anarchist terrorist plot to put one of their followers, Mr. Verloc, in charge of blowing up an observatory. His method of choice, the suicide bomber, is eerily familiar to today's reader. What makes this suicide bomber plot all the more interesting are the obscure details Conrad includes that led me to question whether Verloc and his family were, in fact, Muslim. In Sir Ethelred and the Assistant Commissioner's chapter ten discussion, the Assistance Commissioner's thoughts question the country's domestic policy and focus on his battle against the "paynim (heathen/Muslim) Cheeseman," which is Verloc. Toward the end, Conrad describes Mrs. Verloc as walking around town covered in black except for her eyes. These two details combine to add a Muslim thread to this already visionary terrorist suicide bombing plot in London, curiously reminiscent of recent world events.

Stevie's comments to Mrs. Verloc on the taxi were intriguing as well, receiving new life from the recent New Orleans natural disaster. Stevie's sympathy for the poor taxi driver and poor horse lead him to wonder why the police don't fight to stop injustice. Mrs. Verloc's response, "They are there so that them as have nothing shouldn't take anything away from them who have" is followed by Stevie's question of "What, not even if they were hungry?" The way the media portrayed and the police responded to the "looting" in New Orleans was the answer to Stevie's question: "Yes, that's the police's job even if the poor are hungry."

The Secret Agent, even though nearly a century old, brings to the forefront topics that seem to our world today fairly new. The details connect with the reader because of their strange relevance, spurring conversation about the various topics listed above.

Reviewed by Jonathan Stephens

This is not your typical Conrad work in the sense it stands out as a spy thriller/mystery versus an adventure tale. However, it does contain many of the same dark themes of human nature as you find in "Heart of Darkness" and others. Some will appreciate the work for those intricate themes, the historical portrayal of London, and the critique of anarchism--I ended up enjoying the novel as a classical spy thriller. It is a short and easy read, although I found it a little slow prior to the big event.

Shadowy embassy official Mr. Vladimir is running out of patience with the fellow he has hired to sow dissent in London, one Adolf Verloc. You may, too, long before the anticlimactic end of "The Secret Agent."

Joseph Conrad's 1907 novel not only predicts the rise of terrorism as a global force (and analyzes its anarchistic roots with probing curiosity and pungent wit), it also more or less created the genre of the spy novel, both the high artsy type John le Carre produces and the popular sort dished out by Tom Clancy. It's an important book, at times quite a good read. At times...

As when we meet the Professor, a sinister bomb-maker who fondles in his pants pocket the rubber-bulb detonator of the explosive he has strapped to his body as he walks the crowded streets of the city, to warn off any bobby who might try and mess with him. "They depend on life...a complex, organized fact open to attack at every point, whereas I depend on death, which knows no restraint and cannot be attacked," he sneers. "My superiority is evident."

Or the mentally retarded Stevie, the man-child so sensitive to the pain of others, even a starving horse that drives his mother's cab. He wishes only for comfort and joy for all, like the kind he knows when his loving sister tucks him into bed. "To be taken into a bed of compassion was the supreme remedy, with the only one disadvantage of being difficult of application on a large scale."

There's some humor and much wisdom in Conrad's novel. Conrad was a great writer, capable of capturing in often-meandering sentences some very difficult concepts about the world we live in and the complex psychology of those around us. At his best, he's brilliant. But "The Secret Agent" is more than a little windy, with a rambling narrative that introduces a bevy of characters but doesn't do very much with them and one key moment of action that happens outside the unnecessarily shifting narrative.

Some reviewers here have made mention of the fact those of us who don't appreciate Conrad here are guilty of being members of the MTV generation and so on. Yes, it's true, I have seen a music video, a Duran Duran one. I remember someone flipping a table... But the problem here isn't with modern readers' short-attention spans.

When Conrad was being discursive in "Lord Jim," it was for the sake of delving into the many layers of a conflicted central character, filling a broad canvas with the stuff of a vast world at sea which threatened to drown Jim's overarching sense of self-importance if he didn't keep escaping into something else. There was a point to its narrative time shifts and here-and-gone secondary characters. In "The Secret Agent," one gets a sense of a slight yarn, no more than a short story really, being tricked up and lathered with unnecessary detail. The central character is a dull slug and a poser, his wife, the only mildly sympathetic character, is little better, a Stepford Wife without the nice house.

Conrad's book starts off well, but then takes a sharp left turn after the central act of terror, petering out in a series of elliptical conversations, of little or no importance to the final resolution, where Conrad commentates on every unspoken thought and nuance of expression. The narrative becomes very slow and dull, to the point when we finally are given an act of on-screen violence, it's so lethargically rendered that the victim barely cries out before expiring. Some point about pointlessness is being made, for the 456th time.

That Conrad created here a genre that has served us well is beyond question. But it's only an okay book, not the best by Conrad or the best spy fiction by a long chalk. It's not even the best story about an unprincipled man named Verloc who causes a London bombing, as Alfred Hitchcock reworked this book into his 1936 film "Sabatoge." That's a classic work of art, something not to be missed. Conrad's novel is but a dry run in comparison, sometimes very dry.

Joseph Conrad's novel "The Secret Agent" is referred to in many places as the prototype of today's political and espionage thrillers. Except that it's not really much of a political thriller at all. The agent of the title, Mr. Verloc, has grown complacent in his role as an informant to a foreign embassy in London and is pressured by his superiors into pulling off a shocking act of terrorism in order to prove his worth to his colleagues. The novel is mostly about the domestic repercussions that occur when things go badly wrong.

This novel effectively toys with the reader's expectations, but it does so in a somewhat dubious way. Conrad introduces several characters and sets the stage for what appears to be a thriller with political overtones: several people have a vested interest (personally or politically) in the outcome of Mr. Verloc's actions. However, none of these characters ends up being of any importance, and nearly all of them drop out of the narrative altogether. The novel ends up being much more about Mrs. Verloc than it does about anyone else (including Mr. Verloc). This effectively pulls the rug out from under the reader's feet, but I would have received more satisfaction if Conrad had been able to keep suspense alive while still juggling a larger cast of characters. Maybe I should have been ready for this narrative sleight of hand, given the novel's subtitle, "A Simple Tale," but as it was the novel didn't take focus until it was 3/4 over and by that time too late for me to shift my sympathies.

What the novel does well, however, is to give its reader a deliciously tangible sense of the seedy underworld at play in late 19th-century London. Conrad personifies the mist, funk and squalor of London until the city itself nearly becomes a character in the action. Also, for anyone who maybe knows Conrad for being an obtuse, thick writer (especially if your previous knowledge of him comes from reading "Heart of Darkness" and "Lord Jim"), "The Secret Agent" is refreshingly straight forward.

Though the book is classified as being violent and Nihilistic, Dostoevsky fans are surely going to enjoy (or belittle) one particular passage: much reminiscent of Raskolnikov's dream in Crime and Punishment, Stevie, and "idiot" boy, proclaims "Bad bad!" in reference to how a man treats his emaciated horse. The only voice of humanity is that of a intellectually crippled boy. Not an easy book; but short and full of challenging philosophical concepts (HG Wells, Nietzsche)placed in a despairing but interesting light. Additionally, sort of topical insofar as the unibomber was supposedly inspired by the book.

Anarchism was a big thing in the late 19th century and early 20th century (you can compare it with the situation of Islamic terrorism today). Several kings, presidents and other politicians were killed by anarchists during that epoch (US president McKinley and Austrian Empress Sissi was among them). Conrad's book is one of the best novels about the anarchist world, dealing with an anarchist cell working in London during that time. The protagonist, Verloc, is the head of the cell and also an informer for the police and an agent for an unnamed foreign country (thus, he is a triple agent) and his attempt to blow up the Greenwich observatory ends tragically for an unwitting member of his family. Note: Conrad amusingly says in the prologue that he never personally met an anarchist himself, but the main story is based on real events he probably picked up from the press of the time.

Admittedly, the first half (dare I say, two thirds?) of this novel seemed to me rather plodding-- until one key event occurs and the plot starts to kick into full gear. The finale rivets the reader to the page, suddenly revealing multiple layers of character, plot, and theme. The effect is a blend of Hitchcock with a dash of Dostoevsky. I am now eager to go back and re-read the entire book again for its deceivingly subtle multi-dimensionality. I highly recommend the Signet version as the introduction (which should be read after the novel) points out several less-than-obvious motifs.

At the end of the novel Comrade Ossipon says, "An impenetrable mystery...this act of madness or despair." He is thinking about what Winnie has done. He cannot fathom it. The novel is unfathomable too; dense, twisting, sordid, ironic. There are some great scenes in this book. At the end, Verloc thinks Winnie truly loves him when in fact she doesn't, and never has; she had always loved the butcher. The horse scene where Stevie pets the old mistreated horse also comes to mind.

The only character Conrad has sympathy for is Stevie, and he gets blown to bits. Stevie is the only one who can truly show love. Ironically, he's mentally retarded. Everyone else is manipulative and calculating.

The book was published in 1906, some 50 or so years after Das Capital, The Communist Manifesto, etc. were published. Europe was swarming with "revolutionists" and "anarchists." Journalists were writing about "the people" and "the masses" and "social justice." Conrad was no dummy. He analyzed what was going on around him in England, France, Germany, etc., then he wrote this book as an "answer" to the socialists, anarchists. This is probably one of the most supremely ironical novels ever written. Stevie's demise is meaningless; there is absolutely no sense or purpose to it. The anarchist world in the novel is meaningless, peopled by sordid, parasitic rabble-rousers and journalists. Even Heat, the Assistant Commissioner, Sir Ethelred, the Assistant Commissioner's wife, the lady patroness, the "good side"--none of them without guilt. They too are schemers, calculating their social advancement. Like a coin, they are just the flip side of the socialits'. The whole society is corrupt, socialist and police alike. In repugnance, Conrad just blows up the whole damn mess. And how ironically does he do it! He blows up the only redeeming thing in that society, a retarded boy who loves without calculation, who goes into emotional fits when witnessing any gratuitous cruelty--cruelty even shown to animals. Dark novel. Great book!

perhaps people don't like conrad because if his tendancy to vary the tone of his work. at turns bitterly funny, creepy, and rather sad, this very modern "spy novel" is a delight.
conrad again takes us through a set of narrative sequence twists- the result of the bomb-plot is revealed a mere 80 pages in, and the fun is following his delightfully full characters as they unwrap what the hell is going on.
london takes on a gloomy, nightmarish quality, in many ways as exotic and unfamiliar as the belgian congo. i'm still pondering his odd antipathy toward italian eating establishments.

This is an excellent introduction to Conrad - a bit confusing and dense in places, but not nearly as much so as his better-known Heart of Darkness, and with a situation that most people can more easily fathom. The diversity of characterization and the clash of various fanatical ideals makes for a good storyline.
That being said, it is a pity that the publishers of this edition decided to include an essay, bound at the front of the book, that totally gives away the only 'plot twist' worthy of the name in the entire story. This 'foreward' should have been placed after the text. Buy this book, but in a different edition.

Based on a true incident, Conrad tells the story of Verloc, the secret agent provocateur who is given the task of blowing up the Royal Observatory in London as a way of heaping scorn on anarchists in England. He sends his mentally deficient brother-in-law Stevie with the bomb, which blows up before he can reach the observatory. Stevie is annihilated and when Verloc's wife (Winnie) finds out what happens to her brother, she stabs Verloc with a carving knife.

Conrad insisted his novel was not a political work dealing with anarchy but was only a "work of the imagination." But he captured the seediness and moral deficiencies of everyone involved, from Verloc to Chief Inspector Heat. The last chapter, where Verloc's now-widow is duped by anarchist Tom Ossipon, who steals all her money, is rank with irony. The best chapter, though, the one around which the high reputation of the book revolves, is chapter 11: from its "She [Winnie] knows everything now" to Verloc's stabbing at the end, it ranks as one of Conrad's most suspenseful and dramatic chapters in all his books. [Alfred Hitchcock made use of the incidents in this work for his movie "Sabotage," though Hitch changed the ending and moved the time of the story up to the 1930s.]

Based on an actual plot to blow up the Greenwich Observatory, this is one of the first novels to deal with terrorism. A hapless group of anarchists is prodded into the bombing, which destroys them, rather than their intended target.
Conrad has created a memorable cast of characters & deftly demonstrates the senseless nature of political violence. But this is a novel whose impact has been dulled by the events of our bloody century. Where once the bombing of Greenwich Observatory would have been a shocking crime, after the assassination attempts on Prime Ministers and other IRA attacks, it seems almost comical.
GRADE: B

The thing that so many people seem to miss about The Secret Agent is the humor. In all the discussions about it's effect on other novels, social relevance, worrying comments on the human condition etc., the fact that this is actually still a very funny book seems to get lost. Conrad manages to sustain a deeply ironic tone throughout the book, but the fact that he never seems to crack a smile at his characters' stupidities doesn't mean that you shouldn't.

The Secret Agent is generally considered to be one of the first books written in the political-espionage thriller category, and in my opinion one of the finest ever written for the genre. Conrad lets the depth and strength of the characters propel the story forward instead of the plot. I found characters such as Mr. and Mrs. Verloc, the Professor, and Comrade Ossipon to be far more compelling and interesting than the cookie cutter "Jack Ryans" that exist today.

The actual act of political terrorism is tiny and insignificant physically but monstrously cruel on an ethical and personal level. The personal consequences of this "act of despair" are more stunning,and horrifying than anything Clancy or Higgins could dream up. I dare not write more for fear of ruining this magnificent book. It's an incredible read.

The Secret Agent, the novel with more twists than a twisler.
In Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent, there is lots of complex language. "The utter unexpectedness, improbability, and inconceivableness of such an event robbed this vague declaration of all its effects." This is typically how the book is written. There are extreme amounts of description, and it has an extensive vocabulary within the pages of this novel. The language has a way to catch your eye and make you think. All the characters match well into their setting, and the plot twists them into each other. Although it is so hard to, this book is worth reading.
Mr.Verloc, the protagonist, is a man who lives two lives. He is in one life a lazy husband who owns a pornography store and has to support a family. His other life, believe it or not, is even more twisted. In his other life he is a secret agent for the British CIA. There is lots of love, trust, unfaithfulness, and traitors. Mr. Verloc is double crossed and must fight for his life and to gain back his respect.
The Secret Agent is a very complex book. It can change your perspective with just the turn of a page. Basically, the secret agent, Mr.Verloc fakes his death and has politics and enemies mixed with allies to deal with. Several problems arise for him in the book but he manages to work around them.
Joseph Conrad writes very complex, has a limitless diction, and uses British terms while writing this book. For Example he says, "in brown trousers and a claw hammer coat." Instead of saying straight cut coat. Claw hammer" is a originally facetious way of saying straight cut coat. This novel will make you think and will not simply tell you what happens. He also says, "Like a galley slave's bullet," Instead of saying cannonball. This is a kind of book that will not tell you something but will infer it, and you have to interpret the words.
Mr. Conrad does a good job describing his characters. He paints a great picture of each character. "His eyes were naturally heavy; he had an air of having wallowed fully dressed in an unmade bed," is how he describes Mr. Verloc. Winnie Verloc was described as, "a young woman with a full bust, in a tight bodice, with broad hips. Her hair was very tidy. Steady eyed like her husband, she preserved an air of unfathomable indifference behind the rampant counter." Within these few sentences he tells you her personality and her physical features and you feel as if you almost know her.
Another thing he does well is relate each character's features to their surroundings. Mr. Verloc is pictured as almost dirty with wrinkly clothes and like he has many things he can fix about himself but he chooses not to. His house consequently is described as, "one of those grimy brick houses which existed in large quantities before the era of reconstruction dawned on London." This fits Mr. Verloc's personality because he is a grimy man who exists in large quantities in London. He is the type of man who is lazy and unfortunately very regular in London.
Joseph Conrad is a great author, though very hard to read. His books make you think with every turn of a page and his characters create the most unpredictable circumstances, and act strange when taken out of their own comfort area. This book is good as long as you've got lots of time to think and it is also a book you must read more than once.

This novel can be read as a psychological character study, as a political critique, or as a thriller. Each way it is thoroughly satisfying. Although it was written in 1904, its political premise closely parallels the situation the United States has been in since September 11, 2001. The ethically dubious "anti-terrorist" tactics of the foreign embassy that protagonist Verloc works for are essentially the "anti-terrorist" tactics of a certain 21st-century un-elected American president.
This novel has twice been adapted into film, by the bye. There is a bowdlerized, squeamish, and ineffectual 1937 Alfred Hitchcock version, and there is a faithful and brilliant 1996 version starring Bob Hoskins, Patricia Arquette, Gerard Depardieu, and Robin Williams with music by Philip Glass.
Re: "If you examine his sentences, he [Joseph Conrad] is without question, along with Theodore Dreiser, perhaps the worst constructor of sentences in the English language."
Presumably, the author of this remark is not familiar with the works of pulp science fiction writer Philip K. Dick, for example, and has perhaps read no other newspaper but the New York Times for the past decade. In any case, I found "The Secret Agent" particularly well written, evocative, and easy to read. There were only three sentences in the entire novel that struck me as awkward, confusing, or unidiomatic. The one I remember is a line of dialogue: "Have you been waiting long here?" A 21st-century American would say, "Have you been waiting here long?". Possibly I've caught Conrad thinking in his native Polish here (or in his here native Polish), but for aught I know a Englishman in 1904 would have put it as Conrad has his character put it. In any case, the solecism, if solecism it be, is easily forgiven.

Tired of the cookie-cutter characters and ridiculous dialogue in Grisham and Clancy? Bewildered by their almost complete ignorance of human psychology? This book is the elixir you need, pitting terrorists against state tyrants in turn-of-the-century London. It is suspense that slowly turns inward, from the impersonality of national ideological battles to the intimate horror of a woman slowly discovering her husband's second life. Enjoy, too, many of Conrad's great obsessions: the "bombs" that initiate a historical record; the dispersal of human agency; the wisdom of suspended contradiction.

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.

Most Victorian novels seem to maintain a certain charm, even if they do not retain any real relevence to today's society. This book, written with the intention of shocking early 20th century Britain, has no charm whatsoever. It does not make up for it in relevence either. In fact I do not believe this story has ever held any relevence to anyone, anywhere.
It is a short, clumsy attempt of a story about anarchists and their attempts to upset the establishment. The bomb attack goes wrong and everyone thinks twice about the use of force. Nothing else really happens.
It is simply terrible. Thank God it is little more than a short story.

Like reviewer Michael White before me, I found little insight into modern terrorism here and, although Conrad's writing style is always enjoyable, I found the story unsatisfying. The "terrorists" in this story are somewhat humorously portrayed as vain, self-absorbed toothless tigers and it's more a story about one man's personal crisis. I didn't much care for the ending and although I read somewhere about this novel having an amazingly suspenseful climax, I must have missed it because I found it predictable and even slightly boring. I've loved the other Conrads I've read, but cannot really recommend this one.

A hundred years ago, Joseph Conrad wrote this splendid novel about a terrorist. I think it's easy to forget that terrorists have bosses and families; their horrible work happens in a context. The book is often funny, although I wasn't really aware of that until I had finished it. And it's also sad. The bad guys in The Secret Agent, and probably most terrorists here and abroad, are a sorry lot. If Conrad were writing today, he surely would have used the word "losers" to describe them. Novels like this one are more informative than anything you'll see on the news.

The Secret Agent has a narrative form with richly described and very intriguing characters. For instance the very first few pages describe Mr. Verloc and his shop. Conrad uses well placed words to accurately paint images in the reader's mind of the indifferent Mr. Verloc, his lovely and buxom wife Winnie and her "slow" brother. Conrad also raises suspicion within the readers minds with his references to the men in the trench coats who walk in and out of the shop in the evenings when the shop door is suspiciously left ajar. Conrad's themes in this book were the alienation of the citizens from the city and the breakdown of communication between the charcters. Each theme was very well communicated and clearly stated. This book provides an interesting read for almost anyone who decides to pick it up.

This poignant coming of age story may be unfamiliar to Western readers, possessing very little overt resolution or clear turning points for our passive protagonist. However, it is well worth reading, expressing with clarity and honesty the confusion and weakness of an introspective young man approaching adulthood.
This novel paints a world tinged with regret and passive passions, impulses held back, and frustrates at times with the inability of the titular Sanshiro to express himself with eloquence--indeed, the mere act of expression seems completely lost to him for most of the novel.
If you have never read Soseki, let this be your first of his novels--read it slowly, remember your first foray into adulthood, and enjoy the fumbling inadequacies of Sanshiro as he grows into adulthood.

Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent, is one of my favorite books because it has a great plot, a fascinating ending, and skillful characterization. However, the vocabulary is advanced, which may make the plotline seem tangled and obscure. I would advise that you keep a dictionary by your side, both to understand all the details and subtleties of the story and to learn a lot of new words. That being said, a lot of people will find this novel too slow and boring. Unfortunately, many people today are too lazy to know their language to the full extent that Conrad did. And just think--English was his second language! But anyway, if you're up for a challenging but richly rewarding read, check out The Secret Agent. Unless you get bored by good writing, you won't be disappointed.

As a die-hard Conrad fan, I was disappointed by The Secret Agent, which seemed to try too hard to be ironic. Conrad is best in character studies, such as Lord Jim, and this plunge into political satire does not suit him. I love to make fun of socialists and anarchists as much as the next person (since, you know, they believe the same things when their ideologies are contradictory), and Conrad really wants us to feel contempt for the characters. Mostly, however, I felt indifference. There are some witticisms in here, and I enjoyed Stevie, the "slow" brother of Mrs. Verloc. Overall, however, Conrad was best at sea. Everyone should read Heart of Darkness and Lord Jim, and if you appreciate those, try Chance and Victory. But don't look to this book for an accurate or flattering representation of Conrad.

This book makes me sick because it contains few actions but many, even too, too many descriptions on these too few actions although the author was able to use so many uncommon words to show his ability in describing something.

Such endless descriptions are tortures for anyone who reads this 5-page action novel. I really wonder if I need to read other books by this author.

I love this book! I couldn't put it down at all. I would give it an "A" for anarchy! The plot just explodes in your hands; the characters are hooded in intrigue and destined for a slam-bang finale. I recommend this book to anyone that feels left out or lonely-because it's a good read.

The Secret Agent is totally different trom any James Bond type of novel. Ordinary people caught up in the times. I enjoyed the way Joseph Conrad described the inner turmoil of the characters and justified their actions to themselves. Good writing.

Have you ever listened to a conversation and had no idea who or what the people are talking about? This is the feeling i got from this book. The complete frustration of not QUITE understanding who was who, or what was going on. Conrad's style of language really doens't help matters. Some classic books get better with time (Great Expectations, for example) but this just seems dated and from another, rather confusing period of history.

....skip this one. Conrad takes perverse pleasure in his chapter-long descriptions and flowery phrases. The plot makes some guest appearances, but not many. Trust me, there's better use for your money elsewhere.

An excellent story. On the surface it is about intrigue, terrorism, espionage, and violence. But it has a multitude of psychological themes in there too.

I had to read it slowly, but as usual, Conrad has fascinating ideas hidden in there.

It is inspired by a real event, which I suggest you leave reading about it until after you have read the novel: [...]

This novel is confusing, melodramatic and contains too many improbable developments.

Its main character, Verloc, considers himself as an anarchist, although his role is 'the protection of the social mechanism', because 'protection is the first necessity of opulence and luxury'.

As an 'agent provocateur' for a foreign country, he is forced (otherwise he looses his job) to organize a terrorist attack, which should 'waken up the middle classes' against 'unhygienic labour' in Great-Britain.

He is also a spy on revolutionary activities of a small club of leftists fanatics (a combination of marxists and anarchists).

Conrad's superlative style is everything except subtle: 'the shallow enviousness of unhygienic labour' and 'the poor, pathetically mendacious, miserably authenticated by the horrible breath of cheap rum and soap-suds', seem to contradict a 'bad world for poor people'.

The writing is sloppy. One time, an organization is called the Central Red Committee, another time, the International Red Committee. A 'Central' Committee seems rather bizarre for anarchists ('I depend on death, which knows no restraint and cannot be attacked. My superiority is evident.')

A dialogue between a police chief and a pure anarchist ('looking for the blow to open the first crack in the great edifice of legal conceptions sheltering the atrocious injustice of society') seems improbable, as well as the short love story between Verloc's wife and another anarchist, at the end.

However, certain aspects of the novel are very actual, like the use of 'a weak-minded creature with carefully indoctrinated loyalty and blind docility and devotion', to carry out the fatal terrorist attack. Also actual is the following sentence: 'the existence of secret agents should not be tolerated, as tending to augment the positive dangers of evil'.

This book has not the same high standard as Conrad's masterpieces like 'Hearth of Darkness' and 'Lord Jim'.

Only for Conrad fans.

If you like Clancy, Grisham, Forsyth and so on do not waste your time reading this one. As wonderful and amusing it may be for some (they have a rigth to an opinion of course) this belongs to another league. Maybe a better one for some, but boring, slow and dull to me

If you like Clancy, Grisham, Forsyth and so on do not waste your time reading this one. As wonderful and amusing it may be for some (they have a rigth to an opinion of course) this belongs to another league. Maybe a better one for some, but boring, slow and dull to me

Conrad's book has a very good idea and I respect that. However throughout the book Conrad insists on describing things with twenty adjectives or more. His descriptive nature turns readers off and for any college student as I am I would rather spend my time numbing my brain with chemicals. However the book is a thriller and it is a book with many issues that are prevalent in today's corrupt society.

This book is so descriptive that you would fall asleep reading. Everything drags on and on. As a high school student, I wouldn't recommend it. Even though my teacher taught me not to judge a book that has been admired by people for more than a century, Im gonna say it; It's so boring!!!

I'll let you look other places for a description of the tale. For Kindle readers, I thought it might be helpful to know that the transcription of the work appears near error free. (I encountered one typo during my read.) So, if you're interested in the novel, this certainly is well worth the price.

While acclaimed by many, The Secret Agent does not seem to me to be Conrad at his best. If you want him at his best, read the stories of the sea or stories taking place in exotic locales -- Nostromo, Almayer's Folly, Youth, Lord Jim or others with similar settings.