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A short novel I will remember for its epic description of a, well, a typhoon, if you must know.
The story is involves a very Conradian situation - a white man showing more concern for his racial 'inferiors' than is considered seemly by his fellow europeans. And he manages to work in lots of Captain-of-ship-is-God type imagery, and meditates on how men without imagination are more reliable in a crisis, but chiefly on how people are cut off from each other, and how we misinterpret people, and basically don't understand each other at all. Which is all very existential and modernist.
But the real triumph of writing is the description of a storm, seen through the effect it has on a man's mind, and the changes in perception it brings about.
Next: Washington Square by Henry James