Why does no one today acknowledge the massive debt Faulkner owes to Conrad? The grandoliquence that is labeled Faulknerian is actually Conradian, even down to the almost non-sensical metaphors.
>One of those drifting trees grounded on the shelving shore, just by the house, and Almayer, neglecting his dream, watched it with languid interest. The tree swung slowly round, amid the hiss and foam of the water, and soon getting free of the obstruction began to move down stream again, rolling slowly over, raising upwards a long, denuded branch, like a hand lifted in mute appeal to heaven against the river’s brutal and unnecessary violence.