Though not in Joseph Conrad's top tier, Under Western Eyes is an excellent novel that would be nearly any other writer's best. Moving further from the symbolic sea stories of his early career, it extends the remarkable diversity that Nostromo and The Secret Agent introduced. It is in many ways an extension of the latter but also mixes in elements of classic Russian fiction and other factors to make a truly great work. The novel is many things: a psychological portrait, a sociohistorical look at political unrest, a philosophical take on revolutions, a complex depiction of the Russian character, a dramatization of the conflict between politics/morality and idealism/practicality, a nuanced view of Russia filtered through a Western lens - and by extension a contrast between Eastern and Western sensibilities -, and more. It is essential for fans, and those not fond of more representative Conrad may be pleasantly surprised, especially those interested in Russian, historical, or political fiction.
As Conrad's 1920 Preface notes, this 1911 work became in many ways a historical novel in only a few years. It depicts Czarist Russia's death throes, unflinchingly showing its many horrors and atrocities. Conrad always had great sympathy for the poor and downtrodden, and this may be the clearest example; the book's portrayal of poverty and other forms of want is truly eye-opening. That such suffering existed less than a century ago in an ostensibly modern country is enough to breed misanthropy in the staunchest optimist. Conrad leaves no doubt that it was ripe for reform - nay, that drastic change was practically inevitable. Revolution of course came in only six years, instantly changing the book's significance. The writing is very visceral, leaving no doubt that the era was anything but pretty; a focus on various forms of dreariness makes clear that it was in many ways truly wretched. It is particularly valuable as an antidote to those who for decades championed - and still champion - Czarist Russia as a haven of relative tranquility and liberty in the wake of the Soviet Union's admitted oppression.
However, this is not a liberal work crying for revolution. Conrad was far too deeply conservative to ever write or even think such a thing - not in today's dumbed-down political catchphrase sense but in a truly pessimistic way. He had little hope for melioration in politics or anything else, tragically convinced that human life will always be pained and striving with the poor and downtrodden forever at succeeding tyrannies' mercy. I have never seen another work with such little faith in revolution or political change of any sort; Conrad's Preface concludes by mocking "the strange conviction that a fundamental change of hearts must follow the downfall of any given human institutions," noting, "These people are unable to see that all they can effect is merely a change of names." If this sounds dry, however astute, worry not; the dramatization is very engaging and intriguing, making the point clear without failing to entertain and managing to avoid heavy-handedness.
Indeed, like nearly all Conrad, the novel can be enjoyed on a very basic level. Like The Secret, it deals heavily in international political intrigue complete with spies, assassinations, etc. It certainly has little resemblance to the superficial spy stories so sadly ubiquitous in recent decades but has more excitement and adventure than most century-old novels. Perhaps more integrally, it is told in an essentially straight-forward, though not linear, way, especially compared to most Conrad; the feeling of being lost and disoriented that turns off so many casuals to much of his work is only slightly present and used with great skill for suspense and dramatic irony. Under is thus one of his most accessible major works and a good place for neophytes to start or for the unconvinced to try again.
Many other factors give wide appeal. For instance, Russian fiction's many fans would be very hard-pressed to find a more "Russian" work by a non-Russian. The novel is often called Conrad's response to Fyodor Dostoevsky, whom he apparently loathed, particularly in regard to Crime and Punishment. There are indeed many similarities between the latter's Raskolnikov and Under's Razumov; Crime fans and Dostoevsky scholars can have a proverbial field day analyzing this and other aspects. More fundamentally, much of the novel is set in Russia and is thoroughly inundated with all things Russian. We not only get a good idea of how early twentieth century Russia looked but more than a glimpse of its culture - everything from manners to speech to politics. Also, in the grand tradition of Russian greats like Dostoevsky and Leo Tolstoy, Conrad includes a wealth of thought-provoking material - without their famous bulk, doubtless to the great relief of many. The novel is both broadly and specifically philosophical, dramatizing a wide variety of abstract and practical issues in a way that forces us to confront the weighty subjects that many think necessary to great literature. The depiction of feminism, implicitly championed in other Conrad, is especially dubious and thus fascinating. Also like Dostoevsky and Tolstoy, and unlike other Conrad, much of this is done via dialogue - another striking instance of Conrad's diversity.
Even more fundamentally, Under is a profoundly penetrating study of the Russian character - not only as it then was but in its essence. This is in many ways what the Russian greats were really getting at, and that Conrad was able to approach their greatness is a true testament to his artistry. Rarely has a foreigner had such a clear vision of another country or its people. The thoughts, emotions, and sensibilities at the heart of Russia and its people are given with great verisimilitude and sensitivity. This alone would make the novel worthwhile, especially to the many interested in the subject. Like all Conrad novels to this point, Under was a European commercial failure, but the Preface notes with great satisfaction that it did very well in Russia, which says much about its believability and empathy.
The most remarkable thing about the book in this and other regards is complete lack of didacticism. Conrad shows the characters and what they stand for on their own terms sans comment, never even coming close to preachiness or any other authorial intrusion. He simply dramatizes sociopolitical concerns and lets us decide, remaining admirably neutral. This is extremely rare in any sociopolitical work, and the story is better for it; those turned off by didacticism have nothing to fear. However, it is all the more remarkable in that Conrad had every reason to lambaste Russia; a Pole born in the Ukraine, his family suffered under Russian imperialism, crushing his parents and forcing him to leave his native land at seventeen never to return. As one might expect, the struggle to remain dispassionate was agonizing; he had a nervous breakdown lasting several weeks during which, in his wife's words, he lived the scenes and spoke to the characters, apparently in Polish. That none of this shows is truly incredible - an amazing feat of artistry rarely seen or even attempted.
Separate from, and perhaps over and above, all this is the deft characterization that will be one of the main features for many. This is not one of Conrad's acknowledged strengths, but Under proves him on par with the best in this important area. There is a notably wide variety of characters, everyone from aristocrats and generals to intellectuals and revolutionists to the poorest of the poor, and all are drawn realistically and compellingly. The most important is of course Razumov, who forms one of Conrad's - and thus one of literature's - most intriguing character studies. He is in some ways the era's representative young Russian; well-educated and intelligent with a social status neither high nor low, he is clear-eyed enough to see the problems around him, but inherited loyalty and self-interest check his liberal impulses. This again recalls characters in the Russian greats' work, as do his more universal qualities. He is in many ways thoroughly dislikable, even despicable - vain, selfish, and indecisive with occasional malice. However, in a true sign of his artistic skill, Conrad somehow manages to make us care about him, even if he is not quite sympathetic. He may be more sinned against than sinning, but more to the point, he is like many intelligent youths throughout history - full of potential but unsure what to do and thus pitiably easy prey. His lack of resolve and true convictions may offend strict moralists, but he is distinctly human; his faults if anything make him more relatable. Some have criticized Conrad for not condemning him, but this misses the point - an essentially ordinary person, he could be almost anyone. Only the very few who have been in comparable situations can say how they would act in his place. Even more essentially, though, Razumov symbolizes many conflicts that numerous youths in politically turbulent eras have experienced: personal vs. public morality, idealism vs. practicality, politics vs. morality, patriotism vs. conscience, etc. His confessions also bring up many important debatable issues. Whatever we think of them generally, the acts have a certain courage that even the revolutionaries cannot deny. These and other aspects make Razumov one of Conrad's most fully realized and important characters.
As all this suggests, different as the book is from most Conrad, it carries on his tragic vision. A dark fatalistic streak is particularly notable; Razumov shows how people can be pulled into extremely precarious situations against their will, and they seem unable to escape. Conrad shows little hope of meliorism here or in the larger political sense. Like The Secret, despite being published only shortly into the twentieth century, Under in many ways anticipated much of its darkness. It depicts humanity on despair's verge with little or no reason for optimism; the time and place may be distinct, but these and other factors are sadly universal.
Great as the novel is generally, a few minor problems ensure it is below Conrad's best. The primary one is the narrator and the unusual narrative style to which he leads. Many will like this last because of aforementioned strengths and because it is yet another Conrad innovation, but the character himself is somewhat awkward. Conrad's Preface makes a good case for why he had to exist, and he may well be right, but Conrad himself often seems unsure how to use him. His presence is supposed to lend the verisimilitude that can only come from direct observation, but the narrative plan - having him write in the first-person but mostly from Razumov's perspective because he has read his diary - is quite a stretch. Conrad does an ingenious job of eventually explaining how he knows all he tells, but the apparent initial impossibility can be distracting, and his intrusions are particularly so. The author also attempts to explain the latter - in fact quite cleverly -, but the whole premise often seems contrived. Excerpts from Razumov's journal mixed with the narrator's recollections may have worked better. However, the narrator frequently seems out of place even when present, having little or nothing to do with the scene; it is almost as if Conrad forgot he was there or was simply unable to come up with a reason despite thinking him necessary. The ending - not the climax - is also somewhat weak, especially compared to Conrad's usual high standard, coming somewhat arbitrarily and failing to satisfy.
Thankfully, though, these are minor limitations and detract little from what is an excellent novel overall. Indeed, it is one of Conrad's most widely appealing works. It comes highly recommended for nearly everyone who likes any type of classic literature.
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