Pretty much of a collector's item, these letters of Conrad to his beloved Marguerite Poradowska, widow of a distant cousin, his kindred spirit during vital, formative years. Uneven in interest; through them one senses periods of melancholy, his poetic sense, his irony, his years of illness. 92 letters, from the world around, 1890-95; while he was groping towards a career. The later ones after his growing success and his marriage, are less indicative of the inner Conrad. Annotated. Documented.