I first became interested in luck in Conrad when I learned that the entire existence of his oeuvre depended on luck—on the happy botching of his attempt at suicide at the age of twenty-one. Understandably, luck became something of an idée fixe for Conrad. “You must not [...] believe in either good or bad luck” (Najder 64), Conrad’s uncle advised, but his nephew was not to be dissuaded. “There are runs of bad luck,” Conrad insisted, “which no foresight and no incantation can turn away” (Letters III 267). Success in the literary marketplace was, he believed, a function of luck and it seems appropriate that his most successful publishing venture came with the title Chance. Even the writing process was luck-governed: “For me it is a matter of chance, stupid chance” (Letters III 85).Chance, of course, can make us all feel stupid by making the world seem unfathomable. [Click HERE to continue]
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