I read this book with as open a mind as possible and tried to leave moral relativism at the door. I still did not like it.

Mainly, I cannot help but be annoyed with the fact that the narrator is an obnoxious hypocrite. He woefully bemoans how, "out of touch with truth women are," and then contributes to that very situation at the narrative's end. Marlow also accounts that black people and white people are essentially the same, but when his black boatman is slain, he unceremoniously throws his body overboard and wonders why the other sailors found his actions distasteful. Really.

More so, it is hard to get behind the idea that living amongst different cultures in nature will bring out the darkness or horror of a human's inner psyche. Communing with nature can be sublime, and living and learning with different folks can bring out one's best traits and/or stimulate growth, if you aren't a shitty person I guess.

Ultimately, I cannot say I hate the narrative completely if only for the prose. Marlow was annoying, Kurtz was repulsive, but the delivery of this tedious narrative was good at least.