Perhaps, these broken images presented to the reader are per se meaningless but these are interwoven by Conrad into a complex synchronizing varied view-points. His narrative is thus, an interweaving of various perspectives to make a syntactic whole which is shared alike by author and reader. And it is in this 'editing' that we arrive at the most cruicial likeness between the the language of the fiction writer and the language of the cinematic director : their very special capacity to create characters and actions and to situate them in time and place and ultimately then to bring us into fictional worlds. The novel may indeed be as Jean Mitry claims, " a narrative which organizes into a world; the film a world that organizes into a narrative". 5.Nevertheless, in both instances , narrative and world are created. Conrad, in his attempt to become an expert perspectivist in the manner of a film director has throughout made use of a "system of narration that unites the power of words with he potentially even greater power of the images they aim to create, it might even be considered a natural next step in literature's evolution- a form that Flaubert and Dickens and other writers had somehow envisioned in their mind's eye." 6. And so we find the linguistic and grammatical domain of Conrad, constituted by images which are visually concrete. Let us look at the image " the wild and gorgeous apparition of a woman" created by Conrad : ' She walked with measured steps, draped in striped and fringed cloths, treading the earth proudly, with a slight jingle and flash of barbarous instruments. She carried her head held high, her hair was done in the shape of a helmet; she had brass leggings to her knees, brass wire gauntlets upto her elbow, a crimson spot on her tawny cheek, innumerable necklaces of glass beads on her neck , bizarre things ,charms, gifts of witch-men that hung about her and glittered and trembled at every step, ...She was savage and superb, wild-eyed and magnificient; there was something ominous and stately in her deliberate progress...(p 88) She came abreast of the steamer , stood still and faced us. Her long shadow fell to the water's edge. Her face had a tragic and fierce aspect of wild sorrow...A whole minute passed and then she made a step forward. There was a low jingle, a glint of yellow metal, a sway of fringed draperies and she stopped as if her heart failed her...Suddenly she opened her bared arms and threw them up rigid above her head, as though in an uncontrolloble desire to touch the sky...She turned away slowly, walked on following the bank,and passed into the bushes to the left. Once only her eyes gleamed back at us in the dusk of the thicket before she disappeared...(p.87 )
Part of the Dream Weave Walk 1999-2010