It only took a few pages for Faulkner to reveal that Quentin Compson would make an appearance in a completely different novel. Although Absalom, Absalom! was published after the Sound and the Fury (Quentin's first appearance), Absalom's events take place years before The Sound and the Fury, before and during his time at Harvard.
The reader stumbles upon the same old Quentin. Quentin is not Absalom's protagonist, but he is a main role player, and catalyst for the novel's events. Quentin seeks the truth in the same obsessive fashion that distinguished him from others characters in Fury. Quentin approaches the issue like a detective, seeking justice for his long gone grandfather. Thomas Sutpen is the protagonist of Absalom, Absalom!. Quentin follows his trail, futilely due to the different biased, and mythical accounts of several people who knew him. This only adds more mania to Quentin's manic ways.
Therefore, there is no evolution, or regression in Quentin. He is the exact same young man we witnessed rising and falling. His issues with Caddy are much more significant than anything presented to us in this novel, but Quentin's behavior is identical to that of Sound and the Fury. Faulkner seems to know Quentin so well, that his new portrayal in Absalom is completely accurate. Quentin, although arguably the most fatal character, is closest to Faulkner. Quentin and Faulkner share the same obsession with lineage, and family history. Both have a need to decipher things that were not even relevant to their time. Things they never witnessed afflicted them enough to find out the missing links, and filling out the mysterious void. Quentin, as a truth seeker for the sake of his own identity and demons, is relentless in his pursuit for Sutpen's true destruction, and General Compson's fall. Quentin, although assuming the role of narrator at times, is not a storyteller. Faulkner is the storyteller, and Quentin is his perfect medium, and vessel to express his innermost concerns and issues. I think that is why Faulkner felt so comfortable in including him in Absalom, Absalom! as well.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Minor Themes : Big Deal
Absalom, Absalom! is Faulkner’s finest work. This was my second time reading Absalom, Absalom! and I have say that it was less overwhelming than my first and much more rich. One of the themes that I noticed this time was recognition; this theme gets overshadowed because the complex issues of race in the text. All of the male characters—Supten, Henry, and Bon all want recognition. Thomas Supten wants to be recognized as a gentleman. He goes about getting what he needs, in order to get that recognition by acquiring land, a big house, and respectable wife. Henry was recognition from his father, Supten, that he is his son. But, because Henry is most like his mother, Ellen, than Supten he does not receive it. Also, Sutpen is man driven be ambition. He literally views the people in life as means to building this dynasty so that his seed will never have to enter through a back door, thereby never recognized. Charles Bon is Supten’s first son from his first marriage. Bon is a mulatto and a tragic one because he too also wants recognition from Sutpen. Bon wants recognition probably more so than Henry because he is an outsider on three fronts.
Another minor theme is the transference of information, which actually is history being told of particular characters such as Ms. Coldfied is telling Quinton what she knows about the “demon that caused us to lose the war”. This information is history being transferred from one generation to another. When Quinton asks his father why Ms. Coldfield chooses him to tell this story to, Mr. Compsons’ answer is because Rosa knows Supten told your grandfather about his past and why she, Rosa, did not marry Supten. This history being transferred is yet another bias nostalgic way of carrying on the tradition of the old south. However, beginning with The Sound and the Fury Quinton is already a child of the new south, who accepts blacks as equal and not as inferior. He also witnesses women stripping down that platform of the southern bell role and becoming independent i.e. Candace.
Another minor theme is the transference of information, which actually is history being told of particular characters such as Ms. Coldfied is telling Quinton what she knows about the “demon that caused us to lose the war”. This information is history being transferred from one generation to another. When Quinton asks his father why Ms. Coldfield chooses him to tell this story to, Mr. Compsons’ answer is because Rosa knows Supten told your grandfather about his past and why she, Rosa, did not marry Supten. This history being transferred is yet another bias nostalgic way of carrying on the tradition of the old south. However, beginning with The Sound and the Fury Quinton is already a child of the new south, who accepts blacks as equal and not as inferior. He also witnesses women stripping down that platform of the southern bell role and becoming independent i.e. Candace.
Transgressive Women
We've discussed before how Faulkner tends to write very transgressive female characters, and the characters of Judith and Clytemnestra in Absalom, Absalom! are no exception. The title of the book itself refers back to the Biblical story of Absalom, the traitorous third son of King David. Even though Absalom rebelled against his father and caused great harm to the Israelites, King David was stricken with grief when his son was killed for his betrayal. This allusion sets the tone for the rest of the characters of the novel, all of whom reach a very classical level of tragedy; as Todd pointed out in his post, Absalom, Absalom! is the most Greek of all the Faulkner books we've read so far.
In the Bible, Judith was a beautiful, rich, respected Jewish widow who saved her people from the Assyrians. According to the story, Judith ventured into the enemy camp with only her handmaiden at her side, and charmed her way into the tent of Holofernes, the commanding general of the Assyrians. She beheads him after he gets drunk and passes out, and carries his head back to the camp of the Israelites. Judith's assumption of the traditionally male role of warrior easily identifies her as a role model for the character of Sutpen's daughter Judith in the novel. Judith, unlike her older brother Henry, can not only stomach the sight of her father fighting with his slaves, but seems to actually relish it.
Analogous to the biblical Judith's handmaid, yet carrying a context all her own is the slave and constant companion to Judith, Clytemnestra. In Greek mythology, Clytemnestra, along with her lover, murdered her husband Agamemnon on his return from the Trojan War. Thus Faulkner uses her name to marry her, in a way, to her father Thomas Sutpen (who could be none other than mighty King Agamemnon) and continues his motif of incestual relationships. Clytemnestra sets fire to and destroys Sutpen's Hundred in the end, making her the "heir" to her father's dynasty when she assumes such control over it and decides its fate. This is ironic considering that all Sutpen wanted was a white male to carry on his legacy, which is ultimately destroyed by a half-black female.
(P.S.--I started this before class last night, so sorry if parts of it are a bit redundant).
In the Bible, Judith was a beautiful, rich, respected Jewish widow who saved her people from the Assyrians. According to the story, Judith ventured into the enemy camp with only her handmaiden at her side, and charmed her way into the tent of Holofernes, the commanding general of the Assyrians. She beheads him after he gets drunk and passes out, and carries his head back to the camp of the Israelites. Judith's assumption of the traditionally male role of warrior easily identifies her as a role model for the character of Sutpen's daughter Judith in the novel. Judith, unlike her older brother Henry, can not only stomach the sight of her father fighting with his slaves, but seems to actually relish it.
Analogous to the biblical Judith's handmaid, yet carrying a context all her own is the slave and constant companion to Judith, Clytemnestra. In Greek mythology, Clytemnestra, along with her lover, murdered her husband Agamemnon on his return from the Trojan War. Thus Faulkner uses her name to marry her, in a way, to her father Thomas Sutpen (who could be none other than mighty King Agamemnon) and continues his motif of incestual relationships. Clytemnestra sets fire to and destroys Sutpen's Hundred in the end, making her the "heir" to her father's dynasty when she assumes such control over it and decides its fate. This is ironic considering that all Sutpen wanted was a white male to carry on his legacy, which is ultimately destroyed by a half-black female.
(P.S.--I started this before class last night, so sorry if parts of it are a bit redundant).
The Southern Tradgedy.
Absalom, Absalom! is the most Greek novel of the ones that we’ve read thus far. Faulkner makes numerous references to Greek culture and myth throughout the novel. The one that stuck out the most to me was Miasma. Miasma in Greek culture was like sin. The Greek’s were worried about being impure. Certain actions carried more Miasma than others. Disservices to the gods or a murder were the biggest ways to get miasma. So in tying these characters to a word like Miasma, Faulkner is showing just how doomed they are. The daughters name (Clytie) is said that she should have been Cassandra. Cassandra was the woman blessed with the power of prophecy but cursed with fact that no one would believe her. Her curse and blessing came from her inability to keep a promise to Apollo. Ellen is categorized as a Niobi without tears. Niobi was a woman who bragged that her twins were better than Apollo and Artemis because she had more of them. This is mirrored in the fact that Henry and Judith have a very close relationship. Niobi however was doomed to lose her children because of her bragging. Again he’s choosing another bit of Greek Mythology to point towards the ultimate doom of the Sutpen line. He’s using all of these established stories in order to flesh out his new story. His story is a new history that is soon to be rich with it’s own mythology which Faulkner is attempting to create in Yoknapatawpha.
The Results of a Strange Man's Prejudice and Willfulness
Thomas Sutpen is an extremely willful man who seeks to assert his power over more than simply his assets, but his life as well. When things do not go his way, he is willing to walk away from the people in his current life to start a new one, or might go so far as to persuade and force another person to take extreme measures. It is easy to connect that, each death (At the very least, each murder) is a result of Thomas Sutpen’s meddling or involvement. Charles Bon met his end at the hands of his closest friend Henry for several reasons, but most importantly it was because Charles was part black, and also because he was Thomas’ own son. Henry immediately flew into a rage after his father, Thomas Sutpen, gave the information that noted Charles as partially black. This associated with the fact that Charles was about to marry Henry’s sister, led to the inevitable murder of Charles. All of which would have been avoided if not for Thomas’ very existence.
Thomas feels like a list of bad choices in life. If he had remained married to his first wife, even though she and his son were partially black, the story would have been different but the murders would not have occurred, if only for the fact that Henry and his sister would not have existed. But also, Thomas himself would not have been murdered, and neither would have Milly Jones (most likely). If not this, then if Thomas had said nothing about Charles’ partial ethnicity, it is likely that Henry might have never found out unless someone else brought it up (Which is unlikely since Thomas, Eulalia and Charles were three of the very few number of people who knew). At this, Charles and Judith would have married, and the Sutpen and Bon families would likely have had a better chance of surviving.
The basic idea is that Thomas holds most of the responsibility for the way that this entire story ended, which can be considered fairly amazing that his actions and words were enough to destroy the future of his family, as well as his own life. This story certainly focuses on the consequences of extreme prejudice, and the amount of external and internal damage that it can bring to an individual. It also focuses the violent personality within the “civilized” mindset of the Southern families. Thomas was considered a bit of a demon, even a savage, and focused only on his wants and needs, instead of that of the family he now had, or the responsibilities he held over others. It seemed more like every slave served more as a form of personal satisfaction, whether through sex or violence simply depended on the gender. It is possible that this shows just how unlikely it is to create something like a family and a strong name in the South when the founder of said family holds no understanding of what it means to be a southerner, nor does he have any inclination to wish to learn, even though it makes such a mess of himself and those connected to him by the end of it all.
Thomas feels like a list of bad choices in life. If he had remained married to his first wife, even though she and his son were partially black, the story would have been different but the murders would not have occurred, if only for the fact that Henry and his sister would not have existed. But also, Thomas himself would not have been murdered, and neither would have Milly Jones (most likely). If not this, then if Thomas had said nothing about Charles’ partial ethnicity, it is likely that Henry might have never found out unless someone else brought it up (Which is unlikely since Thomas, Eulalia and Charles were three of the very few number of people who knew). At this, Charles and Judith would have married, and the Sutpen and Bon families would likely have had a better chance of surviving.
The basic idea is that Thomas holds most of the responsibility for the way that this entire story ended, which can be considered fairly amazing that his actions and words were enough to destroy the future of his family, as well as his own life. This story certainly focuses on the consequences of extreme prejudice, and the amount of external and internal damage that it can bring to an individual. It also focuses the violent personality within the “civilized” mindset of the Southern families. Thomas was considered a bit of a demon, even a savage, and focused only on his wants and needs, instead of that of the family he now had, or the responsibilities he held over others. It seemed more like every slave served more as a form of personal satisfaction, whether through sex or violence simply depended on the gender. It is possible that this shows just how unlikely it is to create something like a family and a strong name in the South when the founder of said family holds no understanding of what it means to be a southerner, nor does he have any inclination to wish to learn, even though it makes such a mess of himself and those connected to him by the end of it all.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Joe Christmas
It is easy to see Joe Christmas as simply an evil and angry man. While misunderstood is a possible definition for the reaction of the mill workers and other people, Joe Christmas partially placed himself within that situation with his silent and brooding nature, keeping closed within the presence of others, so much so that the reader also has a weak understanding of who Joe Christmas really is. This may be because Joe Christmas does not understand himself and makes no effort to try to. Because of that, Joe’s actions do not reflect who he is, or who he wants to be, simply because he does not know. Instead, he acts in accordance to his desires and his needs, trying to get money the honest way, before quickly deciding that illegal liquor works out better in gaining his desires. Similarly, his own life is important to him enough that he would kill to defend it without shame, although he does not realize the moral implications of such actions. For example, by killing his foster father, Bobbie and her acquaintances cut all ties to Joe, leaving Joe to run away and begin to wander on his own.
His desires and his needs also focus on the present day. He has no desire for finding out about his racial heritage or his birth name, even if it might bring meaning to his life or help him find a place to call home. Even so, he does desire and find something to bring food to him, and a woman to stay by his side, although he does not understand the nuances of holding a relationship, which eventually ends horrifically. Most of it is not the fault of Joe Christmas, as they are things that he mainly had very little control over. Being abandoned and then raised in bad conditions brought up a man who simply knew he wanted to live but did not know why and did not know how to find out.
His desires and his needs also focus on the present day. He has no desire for finding out about his racial heritage or his birth name, even if it might bring meaning to his life or help him find a place to call home. Even so, he does desire and find something to bring food to him, and a woman to stay by his side, although he does not understand the nuances of holding a relationship, which eventually ends horrifically. Most of it is not the fault of Joe Christmas, as they are things that he mainly had very little control over. Being abandoned and then raised in bad conditions brought up a man who simply knew he wanted to live but did not know why and did not know how to find out.
Thoughts on Christmas. Racism too.
Joe Christmas has to be one of my favorite characters in any Faulkner novel right now. Christmas has so many character qualities that I don't even know where to begin. Faulkner presents us with a multifaceted protagonist that has plenty to offer. It doesn't matter how much you extract from Christmas because I think there will always be something missing. Needless to say, I can't wait for the discussion.
What I find interesting about Joe Christmas is his placement in the novel. Christmas is going through the worst possible conundrum, for he is not quite white, or black. This leaves him in a constant limbo, and alienated from two different communities who do not accept him. Racially, Joe Christmas is ahead of his time, a time that condemns the person that he is. In a way, Yoknawpatawpha County and Jefferson, Mississippi are the two worst places for Christmas to live in. This predicament only contributes to his misanthropic tendencies, and brooding qualities, that stem from his lack of identity. Not only is he mixed, but he is a bastard child with no origin.
Faulkner initially presents Joe Christmas as a character just looking for his way to thrive in such a harsh environment, and the reader may or may not be empathetic for him. As the novel develops, we see Christmas' true colors. His nature is partly fueled by his struggle, but primarily due to the violence that characterized his life. By the end of the novel, there is no possible way that you can feel sorry for Christmas. Although some characters that he inflicts harm on are conflicted, Christmas is mostly apathetic to human life, because said humans never gave him a real chance. What Christmas doesn't know though, is that he eliminated the people that symbolized his way out, the good path. He does the damage to himself, and as you finish the novel, you can conclude that Faulkner created a monster for a monstrous setting like Yoknapatawpha County, a place in which we rarely see any good.
Light in August, compared to the other novels, explores racism thoroughly. Granted, racism is present in every novel because they all take place in the American South. However, racism as a major theme, had not been explored by Faulkner yet. I was marveled at Faulkner's impeccable presentation of racism in the early 30's is polished, and too informed. Faulkner does not really assume a white man's perspective, even though he is a white author, from a good background. Rather, his style lacks bias, and to me, is devoid intentional racism or disdain for African Americans. If Faulkner penned a novel about Amazonian Indians, he could definitely pull it off.
What I find interesting about Joe Christmas is his placement in the novel. Christmas is going through the worst possible conundrum, for he is not quite white, or black. This leaves him in a constant limbo, and alienated from two different communities who do not accept him. Racially, Joe Christmas is ahead of his time, a time that condemns the person that he is. In a way, Yoknawpatawpha County and Jefferson, Mississippi are the two worst places for Christmas to live in. This predicament only contributes to his misanthropic tendencies, and brooding qualities, that stem from his lack of identity. Not only is he mixed, but he is a bastard child with no origin.
Faulkner initially presents Joe Christmas as a character just looking for his way to thrive in such a harsh environment, and the reader may or may not be empathetic for him. As the novel develops, we see Christmas' true colors. His nature is partly fueled by his struggle, but primarily due to the violence that characterized his life. By the end of the novel, there is no possible way that you can feel sorry for Christmas. Although some characters that he inflicts harm on are conflicted, Christmas is mostly apathetic to human life, because said humans never gave him a real chance. What Christmas doesn't know though, is that he eliminated the people that symbolized his way out, the good path. He does the damage to himself, and as you finish the novel, you can conclude that Faulkner created a monster for a monstrous setting like Yoknapatawpha County, a place in which we rarely see any good.
Light in August, compared to the other novels, explores racism thoroughly. Granted, racism is present in every novel because they all take place in the American South. However, racism as a major theme, had not been explored by Faulkner yet. I was marveled at Faulkner's impeccable presentation of racism in the early 30's is polished, and too informed. Faulkner does not really assume a white man's perspective, even though he is a white author, from a good background. Rather, his style lacks bias, and to me, is devoid intentional racism or disdain for African Americans. If Faulkner penned a novel about Amazonian Indians, he could definitely pull it off.
Soap Opera
I was very disappointed with Light in August. I’ll take the dark and gothic Sanctuary any day over the soap opera that is Light in August. Every character has something hanging over their head. Yes, there is enduring moments where I felt for the characters such as Joe Christmas, who is rejected because of his biracial background and ends up being raised by religious fanatics. Then there is Lena, who literally seems to be the ‘light’ in the novel. Lena’s character surprised me because up until this point, I’ve been presented with mostly antagonist/unredeemable characters by Faulkner. Faulkner took a different route this time by giving me a character…no, actually two characters, Joe Christmas and Lena Groove, whom are truly victims of their circumstances. Faulkner gave a classic southern stereotype— the tragic mulatto, Joe Christmas; this is a man, who from birth is seen, but hidden and he carries the burden of not belonging. He fits neither in the white, nor black community; therefore, he is society‘s orphan because he disrupts the social order. Lena Grove is this saint, and I kept wondering how could such a misfortune happen to a girl so good like Lena? Also, what I found to be pleasant surprise about Lena is that she is not too concerned about what other people think about her pregnancy as did Dewey Dell or Candace did.
I guess what annoyed me about Light in August was the constant miscellaneous drama that one could watch daily on The Young and the Restless. To me, it’s as if Faulkner didn’t give much thought to the development of the plot, in order to create aesthetic drama. So there is no depth in this book for me. As always there was a lot of symbolism and imagery, but no depth. I felt like this was rushed piece of work on Faulkner’s part and he creates these miscellaneous incidents to fill wholes in the story. For example, there was no need for Joe Christmas and Joanna Burden’s affair. Joe is already the most tragic of all characters in the novel or Mrs. Hines believing that Lena is her long lost daughter, when Mrs. Hines knows her daughter is dead. Its tedious incidents that Faulkner makes his characters fall into without much thought. I get what Faulkner was trying to do with the multipliable narrators. However, I always have a problem with trusting a narrator if he or she is either bitter or angry toward the person, they are talking about, which brings up another theme Faulkner is always trying present and that is, stories are bias tales. There is no objectivity in storytelling even if one character like or love the person they are narrating about; there is still a bias point of view that is being put across. That said I’m looking forward to next week Absalom, Absalom!
I guess what annoyed me about Light in August was the constant miscellaneous drama that one could watch daily on The Young and the Restless. To me, it’s as if Faulkner didn’t give much thought to the development of the plot, in order to create aesthetic drama. So there is no depth in this book for me. As always there was a lot of symbolism and imagery, but no depth. I felt like this was rushed piece of work on Faulkner’s part and he creates these miscellaneous incidents to fill wholes in the story. For example, there was no need for Joe Christmas and Joanna Burden’s affair. Joe is already the most tragic of all characters in the novel or Mrs. Hines believing that Lena is her long lost daughter, when Mrs. Hines knows her daughter is dead. Its tedious incidents that Faulkner makes his characters fall into without much thought. I get what Faulkner was trying to do with the multipliable narrators. However, I always have a problem with trusting a narrator if he or she is either bitter or angry toward the person, they are talking about, which brings up another theme Faulkner is always trying present and that is, stories are bias tales. There is no objectivity in storytelling even if one character like or love the person they are narrating about; there is still a bias point of view that is being put across. That said I’m looking forward to next week Absalom, Absalom!
Stories within a Story
By this point in the class I think a lot of us are reaching Faulkner critical mass. I believe we are the fifth full novel, and that’s quite a bit of Faulkner. That being said, I would like to note that even though I’ve read more Faulkner than I might care to have, he still surprises and challenges me. For example, most of his later works, Sound and the Fury era, seem to have the same feel about them, the same tone and setting. And while Light in August is shares this overall Faulknerian feeling, it is different in a way, as all of Faulkner’s novels are. Something that struck me as particularly interesting about Light in August was the amount of narrators the book had. Nearly all of the action of the story is revealed to the reader through the telling of stories by other characters.
Light in August is mostly narrated through the voices of the characters in the book, but in a special way. A great deal of the “action” is actually comprised of things that took place many years ago and is being retold from one character to another. The novel’s current setting spans no more than two months, beginning with Lena Grove’s trek from Alabama and ending with her and Byron Bunch’s journey out of Mississippi. All in all, though, the present setting action describes only a handful of days from these two months. Lena arrives in Jefferson on the day that Joe Christmas murders Miss Burden and burns down her house. Brown spends a few days helping the sheriff look for Christmas, Christmas spends a week on the lamb, Lena has her baby, and then the next day Christmas is caught and subsequently murdered when he attempts to escape. These events comprise nearly all of the present action.
The majority of the novel, then, is made of stories and histories told by different characters and at times an omniscient narrator. Miss Burdern tells Christmas of her family’s past--how her father was killed by Colonel Sartoris—Byron tells Hightower about the Christmas and Brown’s bootlegging outfit and how Christmas had a relationship with Miss Burder. Byron also tells Hightower about the murder of Miss Burden and about how Christmas was caught. Mrs. Hines relates to Hightower the story of her daughter and grandson, who turns out to be Christmas. Even the ending chapter is a story told by a Tennessean man to his wife. He relates the tale of how he picked up Lena Grove and Byron Bunch in Mississippi and brought them to Tennessee. All of these instances are of one character telling something to another character. The reader of Light in August is very rarely privy to firsthand accounts of the action of the novel.
The technique of using many different characters to tell a story is not unique to Faulkner or to Light in August. In fact, Faulkner is known for his use of many and varied narrators. What does this technique add to a novel, though? It distances the reader from the action for one thing, such as how the sex in Sanctuary is revealed to the reader through a character who was watching another character watch the two having sex. This technique also gives the reader several different perspective on one event, and access to information about a great deal more events, than just one single narrator could ever give.
Light in August is mostly narrated through the voices of the characters in the book, but in a special way. A great deal of the “action” is actually comprised of things that took place many years ago and is being retold from one character to another. The novel’s current setting spans no more than two months, beginning with Lena Grove’s trek from Alabama and ending with her and Byron Bunch’s journey out of Mississippi. All in all, though, the present setting action describes only a handful of days from these two months. Lena arrives in Jefferson on the day that Joe Christmas murders Miss Burden and burns down her house. Brown spends a few days helping the sheriff look for Christmas, Christmas spends a week on the lamb, Lena has her baby, and then the next day Christmas is caught and subsequently murdered when he attempts to escape. These events comprise nearly all of the present action.
The majority of the novel, then, is made of stories and histories told by different characters and at times an omniscient narrator. Miss Burdern tells Christmas of her family’s past--how her father was killed by Colonel Sartoris—Byron tells Hightower about the Christmas and Brown’s bootlegging outfit and how Christmas had a relationship with Miss Burder. Byron also tells Hightower about the murder of Miss Burden and about how Christmas was caught. Mrs. Hines relates to Hightower the story of her daughter and grandson, who turns out to be Christmas. Even the ending chapter is a story told by a Tennessean man to his wife. He relates the tale of how he picked up Lena Grove and Byron Bunch in Mississippi and brought them to Tennessee. All of these instances are of one character telling something to another character. The reader of Light in August is very rarely privy to firsthand accounts of the action of the novel.
The technique of using many different characters to tell a story is not unique to Faulkner or to Light in August. In fact, Faulkner is known for his use of many and varied narrators. What does this technique add to a novel, though? It distances the reader from the action for one thing, such as how the sex in Sanctuary is revealed to the reader through a character who was watching another character watch the two having sex. This technique also gives the reader several different perspective on one event, and access to information about a great deal more events, than just one single narrator could ever give.
Identity
Identity seems to be the focal point of this novel.
Joe Christmas is attempting to outrun his nature as a half-black man. He’s not even sure what this really means. The only thing he is able to offer to Joanna as explanation of where he comes from is that one of his parents was at least part black. Christmas is worried about how the other perceive him rather than how he feels about himself. He is unable to keep his emotions under control because he feels lost. He is adopted by the McEachems but even at the beginning he thinks to himself “I’m Joe Christmas.” So he has some form of identity that he cannot define verbally or even in thoughts. His attacks on women seem to be part of this hatred of himself. He is rebelling against the woman who birthed him into the world. He can find something better. He runs through the black part of town because it bears down on him.
Joe Brown changes his name to run from Lena. His identity is nothing. Once one town is burned he can easily find himself a new with a new name because his identity is not tied to his name. He works at the mill but only because he needs the money and only until he is willing to sell out his friend for a bit of money. It is really unclear as to whether he started the fire to cover up Christmas’ crime or whether he simply saw the house on fire and went to investigate himself.
Lena has no questions about who she is and what she is doing. She is simply searching for Lucas. She is undeterred by anything that may be in her path. She is on the road to find Lucas and that is what she manages. Her character stays the same throughout the novel. She is the same woman, searching for the same man when the novel closes.
The Reverend is interesting because he has obviously changed in some way because of his encounter with the people but it is not clear exactly what this means for him. He is willing to lie and give Christmas an alibi by the end of the novel.
Joe Christmas is attempting to outrun his nature as a half-black man. He’s not even sure what this really means. The only thing he is able to offer to Joanna as explanation of where he comes from is that one of his parents was at least part black. Christmas is worried about how the other perceive him rather than how he feels about himself. He is unable to keep his emotions under control because he feels lost. He is adopted by the McEachems but even at the beginning he thinks to himself “I’m Joe Christmas.” So he has some form of identity that he cannot define verbally or even in thoughts. His attacks on women seem to be part of this hatred of himself. He is rebelling against the woman who birthed him into the world. He can find something better. He runs through the black part of town because it bears down on him.
Joe Brown changes his name to run from Lena. His identity is nothing. Once one town is burned he can easily find himself a new with a new name because his identity is not tied to his name. He works at the mill but only because he needs the money and only until he is willing to sell out his friend for a bit of money. It is really unclear as to whether he started the fire to cover up Christmas’ crime or whether he simply saw the house on fire and went to investigate himself.
Lena has no questions about who she is and what she is doing. She is simply searching for Lucas. She is undeterred by anything that may be in her path. She is on the road to find Lucas and that is what she manages. Her character stays the same throughout the novel. She is the same woman, searching for the same man when the novel closes.
The Reverend is interesting because he has obviously changed in some way because of his encounter with the people but it is not clear exactly what this means for him. He is willing to lie and give Christmas an alibi by the end of the novel.
Illuminating Identity
We're not reading about April anymore! I was very happy to see this shift in time, as I think it marks a major maturation in Faulkner's writing. As a Southerner, I can say that the light in August is very different from the rest of the year: it's tangible, almost dusty-feeling, but at the same time makes everything look very vivid. I can't think of a word for it, but it's like a "heavy" shimmering, if that makes any sense. I think the combination of drowsiness from the heat and the brilliance of the colors evoke a dream-like state where one could imagine anything coming up the road, from a man named "Joe Christmas" to the galloping ghost of a Confederate soldier.
I think the emphasis on light in the title is suggestive of one of the novel's major themes: identity, or the lights in which we view ourselves and others. Three of the main characters--Lena Grove, Joe Christmas, Reverend Hightower, and Byron Bunch--all exemplify the struggle to capture and identify the self.
Lena sees herself only in terms of her physical being and her concrete goals. Her existence when we meet her is simply this: she is pregnant and she is going to find Lucas Burch and marry him, even if that means walking all the way from Alabama. She alone of all the characters knows exactly what she wants and acts accordingly. The surety and peacefulness with which Lena moves makes many of the other characters (like her runaway lover and Joe Christmas), seem empty and frantic. But I wonder if Faulkner is holding Lena up as the ideal model of existence? She is destined to be thwarted in her endeavor to marry Burch, and forever blinded to any possible happiness with Byron Bunch because he is not the one she thinks she is seeking.
Joe Christmas is perhaps the least understandable yet one of the most intriguing characters of the novel. His whole existence so far has been miserably defined by external forces: race, religion, and sex. Continually faced with being "black", a "man" or a "Presbyterian", Joe finds his personhood cannot be fully illuminated by the lights in which society tries to see him. He "only wants some peace and quiet" but he has been forced out of society and his ensuing anger gives him no rest. In the end, he is killed for daring to have some African-American blood, castrated for being a man, and shot in a way reminiscent of Christ on the cross.
Reverend Hightower is, obviously, defined by the past. However, these pasts do not belong to him, they are primarily of his unstable wife and his long dead grandfather. We do not know where he comes from or why he has chosen this path, but this is actually all unimportant in understanding his character for he only understands himself in the light of history. Perhaps the present is so frightening and volatile that the past provides the only stability for life in the modern world. He is temporarily awakened from his reverie by the hapless plight of poor Lena, but the end of the novel sees him alone in Jefferson again, abandoned even by the his sole friend, Byron Bunch.
The end of the novel suggests the ultimately circular nature of time in general, as Lena finds herself still on the road, contemplating how far she is come and how much further she must go, and Hightower is still bereft of any connection to the present. This tone of inevitability suggests that people come and go, passions grow and die, but the light in August always remains the same.
I think the emphasis on light in the title is suggestive of one of the novel's major themes: identity, or the lights in which we view ourselves and others. Three of the main characters--Lena Grove, Joe Christmas, Reverend Hightower, and Byron Bunch--all exemplify the struggle to capture and identify the self.
Lena sees herself only in terms of her physical being and her concrete goals. Her existence when we meet her is simply this: she is pregnant and she is going to find Lucas Burch and marry him, even if that means walking all the way from Alabama. She alone of all the characters knows exactly what she wants and acts accordingly. The surety and peacefulness with which Lena moves makes many of the other characters (like her runaway lover and Joe Christmas), seem empty and frantic. But I wonder if Faulkner is holding Lena up as the ideal model of existence? She is destined to be thwarted in her endeavor to marry Burch, and forever blinded to any possible happiness with Byron Bunch because he is not the one she thinks she is seeking.
Joe Christmas is perhaps the least understandable yet one of the most intriguing characters of the novel. His whole existence so far has been miserably defined by external forces: race, religion, and sex. Continually faced with being "black", a "man" or a "Presbyterian", Joe finds his personhood cannot be fully illuminated by the lights in which society tries to see him. He "only wants some peace and quiet" but he has been forced out of society and his ensuing anger gives him no rest. In the end, he is killed for daring to have some African-American blood, castrated for being a man, and shot in a way reminiscent of Christ on the cross.
Reverend Hightower is, obviously, defined by the past. However, these pasts do not belong to him, they are primarily of his unstable wife and his long dead grandfather. We do not know where he comes from or why he has chosen this path, but this is actually all unimportant in understanding his character for he only understands himself in the light of history. Perhaps the present is so frightening and volatile that the past provides the only stability for life in the modern world. He is temporarily awakened from his reverie by the hapless plight of poor Lena, but the end of the novel sees him alone in Jefferson again, abandoned even by the his sole friend, Byron Bunch.
The end of the novel suggests the ultimately circular nature of time in general, as Lena finds herself still on the road, contemplating how far she is come and how much further she must go, and Hightower is still bereft of any connection to the present. This tone of inevitability suggests that people come and go, passions grow and die, but the light in August always remains the same.
Foreigners, Drifters, Strangers, Orphans
I have to admit that I have not yet finished this novel. I am, in fact, just halfway through. The truth is, it is my favorite novel we have read in this class so far. Much as I loved The Sound & the Fury, I feel Light in August is the first purely good story I have read from Faulkner, unhindered by fancy language and confusing structure and incomprehinsible symbolism. Because I love it so much and because I am planning on writing my final essay on it, I am reading it slowly, savoring it to the end. Hopefully my nerdiness has been established enough so that this does not sound like an excuse, but as the slightly pathetic truth that it is.
Light in August is full of foreigners, drifters, strangers, orphans.
The foreigner/drifter/stranger/orphan who most interested me was Joe Christmas. One thing I found very interesting about Joe were his relationships with women, beginning with the dietician at the orphanage, who saw him as a person, albeit little, capable of destroying her. Ironically, innocent little Joe Christmas grows up a man who does destroy: who beats women and murders his father with only a chair and his rage. Of course, we are meant to sympathize with him. Only Faulkner could make it so that I sympathize with a woman-beater.
As an orphan, first arriving at the house of McEachern, Joe is unused to the kindnesses of Mrs. McEachern. This I found to be among the most interesting descriptions of his relationship with his adoptive mother:
"It was not the hard work which he hated, nor the punishment and injustice...He expected no less, and so he was neither outraged nor surprised. It was the woman: that soft kindness which he believed himself doomed to be forever victim of and which he hated worse than he did the hard and ruthless justice of men. 'She is trying to make me cry,' he thought..."
It would appear that Joe Christmas is afraid of love, as cliche as that may sound. Tenderness seems to frighten him, perhaps because it is something he is not accustomed to. It could be that the unpredictable, unfathomable behavior of the dietician upset his understanding. Maybe it was simply the orphanage itself that hardened him and made him uncomfortable with kindness. It is more complicated than this, though, because he does grow very fond of the waitress. He grows angry at Ms. Burden for growing old and he cares for Bobbie, with whom he has sex. On top of this, he is outraged by the menstrual cycle. Maybe he can only care for a woman if she can be used for sex?
Another interesting aspect of Joe Christmas is his "foreigner" status. We learn fairly quickly that he is a black man, a "negro". He does not fully belong with the white people, as is made very evident by their reactions to him. They do not accept him. And while he may not care to be accepted by them, while he may wish to be part of the negro community, it is not the be either:
"...his white chest arches deeper and deeper within his ribcage, trying to breathe into himself the dark odor, the dark and inscrutable thinking and being of negroes, with each suspiration trying to expel from himself the white blood and the white thinking and being."
One reason for Joe Christmas's wandering ways is that he was "trying to escape...himself."
Besides Christmas, there is Lena Grove, an orphan who drifts into Jefferson with her swollen belly; Ms. Burden, carrying the burden of white people ("the curse of every white child that ever was born"), living as a foreigner, but not a stranger, in the south, a product of the drifting, foreign Burdens before her; Reverand Hightower, reclusive and unaccepted.
Oh, it is such a lovely book!
Light in August is full of foreigners, drifters, strangers, orphans.
The foreigner/drifter/stranger/orphan who most interested me was Joe Christmas. One thing I found very interesting about Joe were his relationships with women, beginning with the dietician at the orphanage, who saw him as a person, albeit little, capable of destroying her. Ironically, innocent little Joe Christmas grows up a man who does destroy: who beats women and murders his father with only a chair and his rage. Of course, we are meant to sympathize with him. Only Faulkner could make it so that I sympathize with a woman-beater.
As an orphan, first arriving at the house of McEachern, Joe is unused to the kindnesses of Mrs. McEachern. This I found to be among the most interesting descriptions of his relationship with his adoptive mother:
"It was not the hard work which he hated, nor the punishment and injustice...He expected no less, and so he was neither outraged nor surprised. It was the woman: that soft kindness which he believed himself doomed to be forever victim of and which he hated worse than he did the hard and ruthless justice of men. 'She is trying to make me cry,' he thought..."
It would appear that Joe Christmas is afraid of love, as cliche as that may sound. Tenderness seems to frighten him, perhaps because it is something he is not accustomed to. It could be that the unpredictable, unfathomable behavior of the dietician upset his understanding. Maybe it was simply the orphanage itself that hardened him and made him uncomfortable with kindness. It is more complicated than this, though, because he does grow very fond of the waitress. He grows angry at Ms. Burden for growing old and he cares for Bobbie, with whom he has sex. On top of this, he is outraged by the menstrual cycle. Maybe he can only care for a woman if she can be used for sex?
Another interesting aspect of Joe Christmas is his "foreigner" status. We learn fairly quickly that he is a black man, a "negro". He does not fully belong with the white people, as is made very evident by their reactions to him. They do not accept him. And while he may not care to be accepted by them, while he may wish to be part of the negro community, it is not the be either:
"...his white chest arches deeper and deeper within his ribcage, trying to breathe into himself the dark odor, the dark and inscrutable thinking and being of negroes, with each suspiration trying to expel from himself the white blood and the white thinking and being."
One reason for Joe Christmas's wandering ways is that he was "trying to escape...himself."
Besides Christmas, there is Lena Grove, an orphan who drifts into Jefferson with her swollen belly; Ms. Burden, carrying the burden of white people ("the curse of every white child that ever was born"), living as a foreigner, but not a stranger, in the south, a product of the drifting, foreign Burdens before her; Reverand Hightower, reclusive and unaccepted.
Oh, it is such a lovely book!
Hey Joe
Joe Christmas is an interesting character in the novel. At first, my reaction was that of the townspeople who thought he was a funny foreigner. He seemed a bit sketchy to me at first, but as the novel progressed I tended to favor his character over the others in the novel. In the beginning it was difficult to understand why he was the way he is,but then we get a flashback of his childhood which shows us that he is of "negro blood" and had an awful crazy Christian bible quoting father who would beat him for not knowing his catechism. I ultimately felt sorry for Joe. He was clearly in search of acceptance and belonging, but was never truly successful in finding this. Joe is a battered and tortured soul.
Faulkner clearly has issues with the Christian way of life, maybe more so, the Southern Christian way of life. Perhaps in his own life, he found it to be stressful and full of hypocrisy. His writings are his way of expressing his anger. Also, in terms of anger, Faulkner has a hatred for women, and it's hard to understand why.....
I must say that A Light in August was a decent read, maybe better than Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying. It was easy to follow and understand. If there was a point to the story(which is diffficult to find in a lot of Faulkner's work), I guess it would be the road to self-identity and acceptance.
On another note, I'm not sure why, but Hey Joe by Jimi Hendrix came to mind when I read this story,especially Joe Christmas' character.
Faulkner clearly has issues with the Christian way of life, maybe more so, the Southern Christian way of life. Perhaps in his own life, he found it to be stressful and full of hypocrisy. His writings are his way of expressing his anger. Also, in terms of anger, Faulkner has a hatred for women, and it's hard to understand why.....
I must say that A Light in August was a decent read, maybe better than Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying. It was easy to follow and understand. If there was a point to the story(which is diffficult to find in a lot of Faulkner's work), I guess it would be the road to self-identity and acceptance.
On another note, I'm not sure why, but Hey Joe by Jimi Hendrix came to mind when I read this story,especially Joe Christmas' character.
Light in August
Something that stuck out to me in this novel were the names of the characters. Lena Grove, Lucas Burch, Byron Bunch, Rev. Hightower, Mr. McEachern, Miss Burden (who, in my head I kept calling Bundren)-- all of the names have significance to the character. Every new character that was introduced made me stop and think about what the possible meaning of their name could be.
I liked how the book was framed by Lena Grove, having come a "fur-piece" and then, by the time it ends she is back in focus and still has "a fur-piece to go." This is a small detail, but I liked it.
I also liked that Light in August had about a bunch of different people, very different people, who were all separate from society in some way. Lena was pregnant out of wedlock but a very likable character, which was nice after reading Sanctuary and not liking anyone. I liked a lot of the characters in this book. Byron Bunch separates himself from people purposefully, Rev. Hightower had scandalous past because of his wife and is in Jefferson despite being targeted at times. And Joe Christmas is an angry guy who seems to really hate women. This made me wonder about Faulkner's possible deep seated feelings toward women, but I might just be looking too far into Christmas' actions. He seemed to beat up every woman he came across. He was mean, but his character was really interesting. Kind of like how Jason in Sound and the Fury was, for me. I didn't like Jason but his character was fascinating. It was the same way with Joe Christmas for me. Joe's childhood was so sad. I felt really bad for his foster mother and her repeated attempts to be kind to him, which were met with rejection. He was kind of a brat, in a way, but he obviously has major issues that he is trying to work out -- unsuccessfully.
What happens to Miss Burden confused me. I guess I didn't really understand the relationship between Joe Christmas and her, either. I might have missed something (as I tend to do when reading Faulkner), but why did she want to kill him? Was it because she was pregnant? And why did he kill her in a such a horrible way? (Not that being murdered could be pleasant, but it seemed really brutal).
Light in August was a really good read. I was nervous about it because of Sanctuary, but was pleasantly surprised. As I Lay Dying is still my favorite, but this one was really great too. I was so wanting some kind of a Bundren appearance in this book! But no luck.
I liked how the book was framed by Lena Grove, having come a "fur-piece" and then, by the time it ends she is back in focus and still has "a fur-piece to go." This is a small detail, but I liked it.
I also liked that Light in August had about a bunch of different people, very different people, who were all separate from society in some way. Lena was pregnant out of wedlock but a very likable character, which was nice after reading Sanctuary and not liking anyone. I liked a lot of the characters in this book. Byron Bunch separates himself from people purposefully, Rev. Hightower had scandalous past because of his wife and is in Jefferson despite being targeted at times. And Joe Christmas is an angry guy who seems to really hate women. This made me wonder about Faulkner's possible deep seated feelings toward women, but I might just be looking too far into Christmas' actions. He seemed to beat up every woman he came across. He was mean, but his character was really interesting. Kind of like how Jason in Sound and the Fury was, for me. I didn't like Jason but his character was fascinating. It was the same way with Joe Christmas for me. Joe's childhood was so sad. I felt really bad for his foster mother and her repeated attempts to be kind to him, which were met with rejection. He was kind of a brat, in a way, but he obviously has major issues that he is trying to work out -- unsuccessfully.
What happens to Miss Burden confused me. I guess I didn't really understand the relationship between Joe Christmas and her, either. I might have missed something (as I tend to do when reading Faulkner), but why did she want to kill him? Was it because she was pregnant? And why did he kill her in a such a horrible way? (Not that being murdered could be pleasant, but it seemed really brutal).
Light in August was a really good read. I was nervous about it because of Sanctuary, but was pleasantly surprised. As I Lay Dying is still my favorite, but this one was really great too. I was so wanting some kind of a Bundren appearance in this book! But no luck.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Christmas and murder
A Light in August is one of the most religious Faulkner novels that we've read yet. Not only does the title suggest it (Christ, light), but the characters all searching, the omniscient third person (Godlike) narrator, and the plot itself all mirror/juxtapose common Christian motifs. This is not to say that everything in this novel should be read with the intention of only understanding elements through a Christian perspective. No, I think Faulkner would cringe, and he is clearly quite critical of the Christian way of life anyway, shown through characters like Miss Burden and Reverend Hightower and their contrasting, yet imperfect, employments of faith. The interesting turn taken on A Light in August that does not necessarily fit, or must be made to fit and be understood differently than the Bible, or any spiritual readings, is the fact that if there was a Christ character it would be Joe Christmas, and his events unfold because he has slain his father. Is this a take on modern Christianity? Is this a symbolic reference to Faulkner's idea of a "new" Christ who symbolically disavows everything the supposed God and supposed Bible have taught the world? From this extensive soul-searching of Christmas, all that seems to be produced is more soul-searching, and then death. I feel like throughout a lot of Faulkner's writing, there are these characters who are put next to classic figures of Greek or Christianity in order to highlight their depravity in comparison. Joe Christmas would be one; a societal comment sounding something like: "there was once, and now this."
The killing of one's father is undoubtedly representative of the slaying of an archetype in any situation. Faulkner most likely represents this action as what propels a character to self-exploration, doubt, and isolation, to comment not just on the instability/stability provided for young by a father—but by all patriarchal elements of society. Faulkner was ahead of his time in thought, no doubt, and existed in a southern realm where "ahead" usually translates to "weird". So this severing of cords is symbolic, I think, for Faulkner. At some point, a talented person has to make a distinct decision: Are they going to follow the crowd, go along with established ideals, and join a circus of sameness, or are they going to cut themselves out of the mold in hopes to be "great"? Subconsciously perhaps, Faulkner's decision (even though I in no way think Faulkner is mirroring himself in Joe Christmas) is explained right here in this book. Not only is Faulkner displaying the cutting-off from societal norms, but that of certain mindsets. Of course, this action does not come without consequence. For Joe Christmas, trial, isolation, death. For Faulkner, however, it is to be determined what "price" he felt he payed for his devotion to soul-searching over praising the masses.
And perhaps this is the rub: Religion has become the code for the masses in one sense or another. It's become a crutch, an excuse, and a club... especially in the south where culture is so rich that new customs are harder to catch on. Faulkner looks at the stagnation of religion with a critical eye, acknowledging that truth mostly exists outside the realm of the "taught".
Friday, March 12, 2010
Temple Drake pt 2
Piggybacking from my last post, Temple Drake resembles the downfall of the "high class" southern society. Her father is a judge which makes her a privileged young woman. yet, her flaws are obvious,especially with her behavior. Faulkner provides no background as to why Temple is the way she is.
What's interesting to me is once again Faulkner does away with the character that readers are supposed to sympathize with(personally, I felt a little sorry for Temple). He did not make her crazy,sending her to an insane asylum nor did he kill her. Instead, she ended up in Paris with her father. I do not think this was the family's way of hiding their shameful daughter. I think that this is a way of Temple coping with what happened to her, or simply moving on with her life.
What's interesting to me is once again Faulkner does away with the character that readers are supposed to sympathize with(personally, I felt a little sorry for Temple). He did not make her crazy,sending her to an insane asylum nor did he kill her. Instead, she ended up in Paris with her father. I do not think this was the family's way of hiding their shameful daughter. I think that this is a way of Temple coping with what happened to her, or simply moving on with her life.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Temple Drake
Temple Drake brought about a lot of what happened to her. While we might want to feel sorry for her by the end of it all, we do not simply because she put herself in that situation eventually. By being flighty, and noticeably so, she aroused the attention of Popeye and Van at the Goodwin house. Even though she was forewarned to try and keep out of sight by Ruby, she did not listen and instead returned to where the men drank and left and came back over and over. She enticed both Popeye and Van to react, and the eventual consequence was quite obvious.
Temple Drake herself is enticing simply in her name. Her first name being Temple is a location, a place of worship and respect. At the same time, it is a place that people should not touch, should not taint, although they might want to even if it is wrong. Temple, the girl, can be considered as something that people want simply for the sake of telling the story after it is done. The same goes for her, in the sense that she was raised with money and in a high-class world. She was curious about the lower class, although it put her at great risk that came to fruition with Popeye.
Personally, I was able to get through this story easier than the others, but that says little for the storyline itself. The plot mixed innocence and guiltiness in its characters, but at the same time showed several characters who were unwilling to make any steps necessary to fix things, or would do worse and take steps to push things in the opposite direction. Faulkner did well to show the many weaknesses of the Southern society when putting an almost foreign power, Benbow, who was idealistic, honest and just with the rest of the group. His sister tried to set up his downfall to continue the marriage and to keep her name from being tainted, for example. Besides that, however, this story feels a bit shallow. Characters did not seem very human, especially in their “conscience.” There were very few moments of regret for some actions, and it only appeared to get worse as the book went on.
Temple Drake herself is enticing simply in her name. Her first name being Temple is a location, a place of worship and respect. At the same time, it is a place that people should not touch, should not taint, although they might want to even if it is wrong. Temple, the girl, can be considered as something that people want simply for the sake of telling the story after it is done. The same goes for her, in the sense that she was raised with money and in a high-class world. She was curious about the lower class, although it put her at great risk that came to fruition with Popeye.
Personally, I was able to get through this story easier than the others, but that says little for the storyline itself. The plot mixed innocence and guiltiness in its characters, but at the same time showed several characters who were unwilling to make any steps necessary to fix things, or would do worse and take steps to push things in the opposite direction. Faulkner did well to show the many weaknesses of the Southern society when putting an almost foreign power, Benbow, who was idealistic, honest and just with the rest of the group. His sister tried to set up his downfall to continue the marriage and to keep her name from being tainted, for example. Besides that, however, this story feels a bit shallow. Characters did not seem very human, especially in their “conscience.” There were very few moments of regret for some actions, and it only appeared to get worse as the book went on.
Sanctuary...Okay
What in the world was Sanctuary about? Other than the importance of place, the story had little meaning for me. I’ve become accustomed to Faulkner using multiple narrators. I was mad that he did not use that technique with Sanctuary because it would have made the story more layered as opposed to flat, which is what I found the story to be. The technique of using multiple narrators not only reinforces the theme of the importance of storytelling, it also sends the message of questioning character’s subjective motivation for doing the things they do or saying the things they say. If Faulkner would have used multiple narrators such as Temple, Popeye, or Ruby about their perception of each other or others or the rape/murder that would have enhanced the novel so much!
As I lay Dying, Absalom, Absalom, The Sound and the Fury all have multiple narrators because Faulkner’s wants the reader to decide for him or herself, who is telling the truth? And by using different characters to tell one story, Faulkner’s ask the question what do we really know about anything? Starting with describing how life was pre-civil war, which is one of the themes in Sanctuary. Another theme is violence. I was scared shitless while this book, which is not necessarily a bad reaction. Actually, I applaud Faulkner for arising fear in me. I agree with Ira that I, too, was to busy gasping to do any deep analysis of this text.
As I lay Dying, Absalom, Absalom, The Sound and the Fury all have multiple narrators because Faulkner’s wants the reader to decide for him or herself, who is telling the truth? And by using different characters to tell one story, Faulkner’s ask the question what do we really know about anything? Starting with describing how life was pre-civil war, which is one of the themes in Sanctuary. Another theme is violence. I was scared shitless while this book, which is not necessarily a bad reaction. Actually, I applaud Faulkner for arising fear in me. I agree with Ira that I, too, was to busy gasping to do any deep analysis of this text.
Sanctuary
Sanctuary was not my favorite Faulkner novel. After reading As I Lay Dying-- which I loved-- this one was a big let down. We were told in class that Temple Drake was similar to Miss Quentin, and so I was expecting a more likable character (because I really liked Miss Quentin's character despite her flaws). Temple Drake was precocious and sneaky and, unfortuanately, that got her into a lot of trouble. I was kind of expecting for there to be a big turnaround for her, like she would get away from that horrible, trashy life and overcome all of that. But she really kind of didn't. It seemed like there was a constant feeling that there was something bad coming for her. Something bad because of her being sneaky or whatever. She just keeps going down a worse and worse path. Even when she seems like she could easily get out, she doesn't.
The poor infant that was in the box was pretty strange. That kind of came from left field. Popeye was repulsive. What a horrible, scary character! The whole beginning part with Benbow really kind of confused me at first- like, why is he staring down this man? Why is he taking him away? Benbow, I guess, was the only character that was normal-ish.
The title in itself is something that doesn't really happen. No one found sanctuary. No one was happy. No one was good. Or that's what I got from it. I did find myself having to go back and read parts repeatedly just in an attempt to grasp what had just happened. When I looked up stuff online for back up information, I saw that Temple had been raped by a corn cob. How could I have missed that?! But somehow I did. There was a lot of confusion for me with this novel, but I am learning that that is what goes with my readings of Faulkner: Confusion comes with the territory.
The ending was kind of a bummer. The end was pretty bleak.
After hearing that Faulkner wrote this for money, I think that that was what put me in a strange mind against it. And maybe why I didn't like it. I didn't like the trashiness of it, either and I didn't really care for the characters and I think I was just expecting something more. I think that reading As I Lay Dying and really liking it had me prepared for even greater things, but it didn't happen.
I'm sorry to say that the more Faulkner I read, and the more I learn about him the more I want to read John Steinbeck. Don't know if that makes sense.
The poor infant that was in the box was pretty strange. That kind of came from left field. Popeye was repulsive. What a horrible, scary character! The whole beginning part with Benbow really kind of confused me at first- like, why is he staring down this man? Why is he taking him away? Benbow, I guess, was the only character that was normal-ish.
The title in itself is something that doesn't really happen. No one found sanctuary. No one was happy. No one was good. Or that's what I got from it. I did find myself having to go back and read parts repeatedly just in an attempt to grasp what had just happened. When I looked up stuff online for back up information, I saw that Temple had been raped by a corn cob. How could I have missed that?! But somehow I did. There was a lot of confusion for me with this novel, but I am learning that that is what goes with my readings of Faulkner: Confusion comes with the territory.
The ending was kind of a bummer. The end was pretty bleak.
After hearing that Faulkner wrote this for money, I think that that was what put me in a strange mind against it. And maybe why I didn't like it. I didn't like the trashiness of it, either and I didn't really care for the characters and I think I was just expecting something more. I think that reading As I Lay Dying and really liking it had me prepared for even greater things, but it didn't happen.
I'm sorry to say that the more Faulkner I read, and the more I learn about him the more I want to read John Steinbeck. Don't know if that makes sense.
Bloody Corn Cob
The bloody corn cob is one of the most ghastly literary images I have ever encountered; indeed, I will be unable to drive past a harvested cornfield again without vomiting in my lap. Nonetheless, this symbol of abstract sexual aggression is an appropriate symbol for Faulkner's Sanctuary, a novel of vice after vice.
The novel's climactic action is the rape of protagonist Temple Drake (defiling the temple, eh?) with a corncob. Popeye, the perpetrator, evades justice through the aforementioned rape and two murders, eventually meeting his ironic demise at the end of a noose, convicted of the one murder in the novel that he did not commit himself.
It's hard to find a single likable character in Sanctuary. Even Temple Drake seems capricious and cold throughout. Her victimization, oddly enough, is more of a humanizing act in this context than a dehumanizing act; the juxtaposition of the corncob, a foreign object, against the very object of her womanhood, seems to punctuate this in a painful way.
Violence reigns throughout - castration, voyeurism, rape, murder, etc. Honestly, I was too busy gasping most of the time to do much deep analysis. This book seems to be further confirmation of Faulkner's abiding suspicion with humanity and wishy-washy misogyny. The fact that it was written just before As I Lay Dying, arguably a more sentimental (or at least more familial) novel seems rather strange.
The novel's climactic action is the rape of protagonist Temple Drake (defiling the temple, eh?) with a corncob. Popeye, the perpetrator, evades justice through the aforementioned rape and two murders, eventually meeting his ironic demise at the end of a noose, convicted of the one murder in the novel that he did not commit himself.
It's hard to find a single likable character in Sanctuary. Even Temple Drake seems capricious and cold throughout. Her victimization, oddly enough, is more of a humanizing act in this context than a dehumanizing act; the juxtaposition of the corncob, a foreign object, against the very object of her womanhood, seems to punctuate this in a painful way.
Violence reigns throughout - castration, voyeurism, rape, murder, etc. Honestly, I was too busy gasping most of the time to do much deep analysis. This book seems to be further confirmation of Faulkner's abiding suspicion with humanity and wishy-washy misogyny. The fact that it was written just before As I Lay Dying, arguably a more sentimental (or at least more familial) novel seems rather strange.
Faulkner's Horror Story
Sanctuary was both horrifying and oddly engrossing to read. I think of all the books we've read so far, this one could translate the best into film (which I just read that it did, in 1933's "The Story of Temple Drake"). The images that came to mind as I was reading, especially when there was dialogue, was a sort of 1940s cross between a film noir and the movie "To Kill a Mockingbird." Though it presented itself the most vividly in my mind's eye, Sanctuary did feel a bit lazier, at least in terms of prose style, than The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying. Just as I got tired of hearing about Margaret Power's "red scar" of a mouth and Januarius Jones's "yellow goat eyes" in Soldiers' Pay, so I got tired of hearing about how thin Temple Drake is or how implacable Narcissa is. I like to judge a book by whether or not it feels like I'm reading, whether or not I have to trudge through syntactical mud or whether I glide effortlessly. This seeming inattention to the words he was choosing made me trudge through some serious mire, instead of just absorbing myself completely in the story.
That small criticism being said, I really enjoyed the novel. Well, maybe "enjoy" isn't the right word for it...the world Faulkner creates in Sanctuary is filled with vices and abysses: rape, alcoholism, murder, prostitution, poverty, hatred, revenge, cowardice. Even the infant son of the Goodwins seems unable to find anything to live for, as he lays inert and unresponsive in his mother's arms, rarely lifting his "lead-colored" eyelids. As we've seen grow more prevalent in the previous couple of novels, Faulkner shies away from creating any absolute heroes out of his characters: yes, Horace Benbow does seem to be pulling an Atticus Finch in his defense of Goodwin, but he has just left his wife and child and is hiding out with his sister (whom he had incestuous feelings towards in an earlier draft of the novel). Certainly not a Donald Mahon. The only truly good character we see is Tommy, the bare-foot, simple-minded protector of Temple who suffers the wrath of Popeye (question: is Popeye black?).
I found an article in The New York Times about Sanctuary, in which the writer shared something Faulkner had once said to him: ''It is my ambition to be, as an individual, abolished and voided from history, leaving it markless, no refuse save the printed books. ... It is my aim and every effort bent, that the sum and history of my life, which in the same sentence is my obit and epitaph too, shall be them both: He wrote the books and he died."
After reading this absolutely horrific and depressing, yet incredibly well-written, novel, I'm left wondering, "What part of Faulkner is Sanctuary supposed to come from?" I have read a good deal of Faulkner, outside this class and for it, and I never realized how far into the darkest recesses of the human nature he was able to delve until opening this novel. I feel like he was able to exorcise some real demons with this one, perhaps even more so than The Sound and the Fury or As I Lay Dying.
That small criticism being said, I really enjoyed the novel. Well, maybe "enjoy" isn't the right word for it...the world Faulkner creates in Sanctuary is filled with vices and abysses: rape, alcoholism, murder, prostitution, poverty, hatred, revenge, cowardice. Even the infant son of the Goodwins seems unable to find anything to live for, as he lays inert and unresponsive in his mother's arms, rarely lifting his "lead-colored" eyelids. As we've seen grow more prevalent in the previous couple of novels, Faulkner shies away from creating any absolute heroes out of his characters: yes, Horace Benbow does seem to be pulling an Atticus Finch in his defense of Goodwin, but he has just left his wife and child and is hiding out with his sister (whom he had incestuous feelings towards in an earlier draft of the novel). Certainly not a Donald Mahon. The only truly good character we see is Tommy, the bare-foot, simple-minded protector of Temple who suffers the wrath of Popeye (question: is Popeye black?).
I found an article in The New York Times about Sanctuary, in which the writer shared something Faulkner had once said to him: ''It is my ambition to be, as an individual, abolished and voided from history, leaving it markless, no refuse save the printed books. ... It is my aim and every effort bent, that the sum and history of my life, which in the same sentence is my obit and epitaph too, shall be them both: He wrote the books and he died."
After reading this absolutely horrific and depressing, yet incredibly well-written, novel, I'm left wondering, "What part of Faulkner is Sanctuary supposed to come from?" I have read a good deal of Faulkner, outside this class and for it, and I never realized how far into the darkest recesses of the human nature he was able to delve until opening this novel. I feel like he was able to exorcise some real demons with this one, perhaps even more so than The Sound and the Fury or As I Lay Dying.
The Story of Temple Drake and thoughts on Faulkner.
I chose this title for my post because I have been rummaging through the internets for the 1933 film of the same name. Fortunately, there are some youtube clips, but I have not found the film in it's entirety.
This is a very underrated film, lauded by critics, and a rare find, because it falls on the pre-code film era. Few films were produced at the time. You could get away with most things in the industry during that small window that lasted until censorship codes were implemented in 1934. Although not as controversial as the novel, this was still pretty daring for it's time.
Additionally, sound in film was a new, and a refreshing theme at the time, that broke through a silent film barrier that dominated the industry for several decades. In retrospect, the evolution of film is something we take for granted.
I am dumbfounded as to why this film was green lighted to begin with because even though it is not as graphic, sinful, and sexually driven like Sanctuary, the innuendo and themes are there. At the time, I presume, the mere suggestion of anything controversial and inappropriate, would be immediately chastised. Even though I did not live in the roaring twenties, or in the slightly more open thirties, I believe the controversy of Sanctuary could not be matched back in 1931. To convert it into film, in such a delicate period, was downright risky, and very ambitious. Despite the relentless and explicit nature of Sanctuary, it is also the most accessible Faulkner novel I have come across. Once again, Faulkner shows that he has a bag full of tricks, and stories to tell. With this third big novel, after the Sound and The Fury and As I Lay Dying, Faulkner is on a role, but we have not seen his full potential just yet. The man is a literary chameleon, exploring different styles with every novel.
The somewhat gimmicky stream of consciousness style from the former two novels is seldom adopted in Sanctuary, and frankly, I like Sanctuary's Faulkner the most. Faulkner is way beyond his time, and I can only imagine how much of a curse it must have felt for him to deal with the people of his present, who are not as open to his novels as us kids from the 21st century. I guess that is the burden of being ahead of the game. One is forced to keep fighting, in hopes of receiving some recognition, which usually comes too late. Either at the end of your career, or years after death. In spite of this, Faulkner reaped the benefits of this curse, and became as timeless as the greatest authors. With patience, and determination, Faulkner became a fine wine, and remains one of everyone's favorite.
Here are some links to the film:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NcRX6KfePEQ Clip
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQo-i_e86KY Part 1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnyV-u4gAFQ&feature=related Part 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jBlKU5m_HWo&feature=related Part 3
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csdFW_bN8VY&feature=related Part 4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qLzuMd0zK4&feature=related Part 5
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CkFqECPRb8&feature=related Part 6
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NpvPdY0nn0&feature=related Part 7
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLjHxr9Uz0U&feature=related Final
(Temple's testimony, pretty damn hysterical and hilarious.)
If I could go back in time, I would slap the screenwriters.
This is a very underrated film, lauded by critics, and a rare find, because it falls on the pre-code film era. Few films were produced at the time. You could get away with most things in the industry during that small window that lasted until censorship codes were implemented in 1934. Although not as controversial as the novel, this was still pretty daring for it's time.
Additionally, sound in film was a new, and a refreshing theme at the time, that broke through a silent film barrier that dominated the industry for several decades. In retrospect, the evolution of film is something we take for granted.
I am dumbfounded as to why this film was green lighted to begin with because even though it is not as graphic, sinful, and sexually driven like Sanctuary, the innuendo and themes are there. At the time, I presume, the mere suggestion of anything controversial and inappropriate, would be immediately chastised. Even though I did not live in the roaring twenties, or in the slightly more open thirties, I believe the controversy of Sanctuary could not be matched back in 1931. To convert it into film, in such a delicate period, was downright risky, and very ambitious. Despite the relentless and explicit nature of Sanctuary, it is also the most accessible Faulkner novel I have come across. Once again, Faulkner shows that he has a bag full of tricks, and stories to tell. With this third big novel, after the Sound and The Fury and As I Lay Dying, Faulkner is on a role, but we have not seen his full potential just yet. The man is a literary chameleon, exploring different styles with every novel.
The somewhat gimmicky stream of consciousness style from the former two novels is seldom adopted in Sanctuary, and frankly, I like Sanctuary's Faulkner the most. Faulkner is way beyond his time, and I can only imagine how much of a curse it must have felt for him to deal with the people of his present, who are not as open to his novels as us kids from the 21st century. I guess that is the burden of being ahead of the game. One is forced to keep fighting, in hopes of receiving some recognition, which usually comes too late. Either at the end of your career, or years after death. In spite of this, Faulkner reaped the benefits of this curse, and became as timeless as the greatest authors. With patience, and determination, Faulkner became a fine wine, and remains one of everyone's favorite.
Here are some links to the film:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NcRX6KfePEQ Clip
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQo-i_e86KY Part 1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnyV-u4gAFQ&feature=related Part 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jBlKU5m_HWo&feature=related Part 3
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csdFW_bN8VY&feature=related Part 4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qLzuMd0zK4&feature=related Part 5
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CkFqECPRb8&feature=related Part 6
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NpvPdY0nn0&feature=related Part 7
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLjHxr9Uz0U&feature=related Final
(Temple's testimony, pretty damn hysterical and hilarious.)
If I could go back in time, I would slap the screenwriters.
Sanctuary
The world as portrayed in Sanctuary is an ugly one. One which, no doubt, requires places of refuge for all of the sufferers involved. This seems, then, to be the source of Faulkner’s title.
At one point the novel’s greatest hero, Horace Benbow, imagines many of the novel’s main characters together in a cell:
“He thought of her, Popeye, the woman, the child, Goodwin, all put into a single chamber, bare, lethal, immediate and profound…Removed, cauterized out of the old and tragic flank of the world.”
Benbow puts himself in this cell too, “thinking of how that were the only solution.”
This placing of victims of sufferance in a cell seems to tie in with Goodwin’s idea of being safer in his jail cell than he is a free man in that frightening world beyond, where Popeye lurks, waiting. Of course, Benbow puts Popeye is in this place of refuge too. The reader learns later of the traumatic childhood lived by the novel’s villain. He is a product of the ugly world, too.
In a way, Tommy (“Tawmmy”) can be said to be a source of protection for Temple. When trapped in that big house, she seeks him out as a protector, a role he undertakes on his own.
In light of the novel’s title, Temple’s name must hold significance as well. According to the esteemed dictionary.com, some of the definitions of “temple” include:
“an edifice or place dedicated to the service or worship of a deity or deities.”
“a building, usually large or pretentious, devoted to some public use…”
Temple certainly does seem to be an object of worship for many young men. She is certainly valued above such a woman as “Mrs.” Goodwin, who is seen as a common whore for her sexual liaisons. Of course, the readers learns that Mrs. Goodwin’s sexual conquests were honorable (though gullible, considering the disgustingness of the man she loved and whored for) and that she remained faithful to one man throughout it all, while Temple played her teasing games with several young lads.
The last definition I included seems to somehow tie in to Temple’s role at that large house, with all of those men wanting her. While there, as a girl, she was, to Van and Popeye, an object for their own use.
Popeye I find to be a gross, hideous man. But I will say that it seems that Temple Drake could possibly be, for him, a sanctuary of sorts. I suppose I can argue this in class.
At one point the novel’s greatest hero, Horace Benbow, imagines many of the novel’s main characters together in a cell:
“He thought of her, Popeye, the woman, the child, Goodwin, all put into a single chamber, bare, lethal, immediate and profound…Removed, cauterized out of the old and tragic flank of the world.”
Benbow puts himself in this cell too, “thinking of how that were the only solution.”
This placing of victims of sufferance in a cell seems to tie in with Goodwin’s idea of being safer in his jail cell than he is a free man in that frightening world beyond, where Popeye lurks, waiting. Of course, Benbow puts Popeye is in this place of refuge too. The reader learns later of the traumatic childhood lived by the novel’s villain. He is a product of the ugly world, too.
In a way, Tommy (“Tawmmy”) can be said to be a source of protection for Temple. When trapped in that big house, she seeks him out as a protector, a role he undertakes on his own.
In light of the novel’s title, Temple’s name must hold significance as well. According to the esteemed dictionary.com, some of the definitions of “temple” include:
“an edifice or place dedicated to the service or worship of a deity or deities.”
“a building, usually large or pretentious, devoted to some public use…”
Temple certainly does seem to be an object of worship for many young men. She is certainly valued above such a woman as “Mrs.” Goodwin, who is seen as a common whore for her sexual liaisons. Of course, the readers learns that Mrs. Goodwin’s sexual conquests were honorable (though gullible, considering the disgustingness of the man she loved and whored for) and that she remained faithful to one man throughout it all, while Temple played her teasing games with several young lads.
The last definition I included seems to somehow tie in to Temple’s role at that large house, with all of those men wanting her. While there, as a girl, she was, to Van and Popeye, an object for their own use.
Popeye I find to be a gross, hideous man. But I will say that it seems that Temple Drake could possibly be, for him, a sanctuary of sorts. I suppose I can argue this in class.
My Name is William Faulkner, and I'm an Alcoholic
William Faulkner’s Sanctuary is, without a doubt, a heavy novel, filled with difficult and controversial topics. Among the vices and crimes in the novel are rape, murder, bootlegging, prostitution, perjury, children out of wedlock, drunken driving, major alcohol consumption, promiscuity, and more. Faulkner himself once claimed that Sanctuary was written simply for the sake of profit, which would explain the excessive amounts of controversy and shocking content. One of the vices in the novel that stands out, though, partly because it seems to be quite a large part of all of Faulkner’s novels, is alcohol: liquor, moonshine, booze.
Evidence suggests that William Faulkner may have been a bit of an alcoholic in his day. Not only do his personal letters and his biographies indicate this, but the fact that alcohol is an important part of almost every single one of this his novels also suggests a more than healthy relationship with liquor. In Soldier’s Pay, the characters get drunk in the first scene. Benjy and his keeper in The Sound and the Fury get drunk off what they think is sarsaparilla, but is actually champagne from Caddy’s wedding. And the alcoholic content of Sanctuary is no less. In fact, this may be Faulkner’s most alcoholic novel yet.
Alcohol is a big part of Sanctuary. To begin with, Lee Goodwin and Popeye are part of a bootlegging organization. Their jobs are totally and completely centered on booze. Tommy, the “halfwit” member of the Goodwin clan is also involved in this bootlegging scheme. One can only assume, then, that the lives of these men, as well as their families, were dictated by alcohol. The men had to be obsessed with it because it was their illegal job. And of course they imbibed of the sweet stuff themselves. It wouldn’t be a Faulkner novel if they didn’t.
Alcohol is also the catalyst for the entire storey. Gowan Stevens drinks too much moonshine the night of the dance with Temple Drake and subsequently misses the train to Starkville, forcing him to drive the two of them to the baseball game in his car. If Gowan hadn’t have drunk he wouldn’t have missed the train. Gowan also makes the decision to stop at the Goodwin house because of booze as well. He wants more liquor, and so decides to stop off at the Goodwin bootlegging house to replenish. If Gowan hadn’t have wanted to more alcohol then he wouldn’t have been near the Goodwin house. Also, because Gowan is already drunk while he is driving, he crashes into a tree near the Goodwin house. Because of alcohol, now the young couple are stranded in a strange house with strange, shady people, and, ultimately, Temple gets raped because of this. In the end, one could say that it was alcohol that led to Temple Drake’s rape.
Sanctuary is filled with many more evils than just liquor. And to say that alcohol led to Temple Drake’s rape is an overly simplistic explanation and in no way a justification. What I mean to point out is simply that alcohol is big part of Sanctuary, influencing the character development, action, and background of the story. I think that this is very telling of Faulkner, if not simply the time in which the novel was written. If nothing else, Sanctuary can be seen as a warning against the evils of liquor.
Evidence suggests that William Faulkner may have been a bit of an alcoholic in his day. Not only do his personal letters and his biographies indicate this, but the fact that alcohol is an important part of almost every single one of this his novels also suggests a more than healthy relationship with liquor. In Soldier’s Pay, the characters get drunk in the first scene. Benjy and his keeper in The Sound and the Fury get drunk off what they think is sarsaparilla, but is actually champagne from Caddy’s wedding. And the alcoholic content of Sanctuary is no less. In fact, this may be Faulkner’s most alcoholic novel yet.
Alcohol is a big part of Sanctuary. To begin with, Lee Goodwin and Popeye are part of a bootlegging organization. Their jobs are totally and completely centered on booze. Tommy, the “halfwit” member of the Goodwin clan is also involved in this bootlegging scheme. One can only assume, then, that the lives of these men, as well as their families, were dictated by alcohol. The men had to be obsessed with it because it was their illegal job. And of course they imbibed of the sweet stuff themselves. It wouldn’t be a Faulkner novel if they didn’t.
Alcohol is also the catalyst for the entire storey. Gowan Stevens drinks too much moonshine the night of the dance with Temple Drake and subsequently misses the train to Starkville, forcing him to drive the two of them to the baseball game in his car. If Gowan hadn’t have drunk he wouldn’t have missed the train. Gowan also makes the decision to stop at the Goodwin house because of booze as well. He wants more liquor, and so decides to stop off at the Goodwin bootlegging house to replenish. If Gowan hadn’t have wanted to more alcohol then he wouldn’t have been near the Goodwin house. Also, because Gowan is already drunk while he is driving, he crashes into a tree near the Goodwin house. Because of alcohol, now the young couple are stranded in a strange house with strange, shady people, and, ultimately, Temple gets raped because of this. In the end, one could say that it was alcohol that led to Temple Drake’s rape.
Sanctuary is filled with many more evils than just liquor. And to say that alcohol led to Temple Drake’s rape is an overly simplistic explanation and in no way a justification. What I mean to point out is simply that alcohol is big part of Sanctuary, influencing the character development, action, and background of the story. I think that this is very telling of Faulkner, if not simply the time in which the novel was written. If nothing else, Sanctuary can be seen as a warning against the evils of liquor.
Temple Drake
Sanctuary is by far an easy read, in my opinion, compared to The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying. Yet, Sanctuary is probably Faulkner's most controversial novel because of themes of rape,castration, and lynching. The sexual brutality is beyond words. It's very honest and out in the open. Faulkner has no issue with writing about such scandalous things.
Faulkner has a tendency to have issues with southern women who tend to be a bit more open minded when it comes to life and sex. He characterizes Temple Drake as a "fast girl," meaning she is the voluptous college girl who likes to have a good time, both in and outside the bedroom. At first, it is easy to be angry at Faulkner for characterizing her or being judgemental of her actions. As the story progresses, it is clear why Faulkner characterized her in such a way.
Temple is a bit hard headed; no one can tell her what to do. Instead of going to class, she decides to leave campus with Gowan, who is clearly a heavy drinker. Temple realizes that she's in danger, so she attempts to hide in the barn, but is discovered by several of the drunkards. Then out of nowhere, the shady Popeye barges in and rapes Temple with a corn cob, of all things,mainly because he is impotent. In my opinion, this is Faulkner's idea of "teaching Temple a lesson,"even though this tactic clearly did not work, as Temple looked for sexual pleasure the next day. Even though the rape is by far the most disturbing thing I've ever read, it was almost as if it was brushed off by the characters.
The bloody corn cob can be viewed more than just a tool for raping Temple; it symbolizes legal impotence. Temple, like the other characters, did not seem to be bothered by the rape. Yes, it happened, but she did not seem to dwell on it. She's the daughter of a judge living a privleged ife among those who seem to be "less" than she. Even though the rape is probably the most significant point in the book, the issue of social class can be used here as well. Temple clearly had no clue what she was getting herself into when she decided to skip classes.
Faulkner has a tendency to have issues with southern women who tend to be a bit more open minded when it comes to life and sex. He characterizes Temple Drake as a "fast girl," meaning she is the voluptous college girl who likes to have a good time, both in and outside the bedroom. At first, it is easy to be angry at Faulkner for characterizing her or being judgemental of her actions. As the story progresses, it is clear why Faulkner characterized her in such a way.
Temple is a bit hard headed; no one can tell her what to do. Instead of going to class, she decides to leave campus with Gowan, who is clearly a heavy drinker. Temple realizes that she's in danger, so she attempts to hide in the barn, but is discovered by several of the drunkards. Then out of nowhere, the shady Popeye barges in and rapes Temple with a corn cob, of all things,mainly because he is impotent. In my opinion, this is Faulkner's idea of "teaching Temple a lesson,"even though this tactic clearly did not work, as Temple looked for sexual pleasure the next day. Even though the rape is by far the most disturbing thing I've ever read, it was almost as if it was brushed off by the characters.
The bloody corn cob can be viewed more than just a tool for raping Temple; it symbolizes legal impotence. Temple, like the other characters, did not seem to be bothered by the rape. Yes, it happened, but she did not seem to dwell on it. She's the daughter of a judge living a privleged ife among those who seem to be "less" than she. Even though the rape is probably the most significant point in the book, the issue of social class can be used here as well. Temple clearly had no clue what she was getting herself into when she decided to skip classes.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
To Die: A indifferent but concerned outlook on death.
Every human life, at some point, will be arrested by the idea of death. It could happen much more often, if it wasn't for our coping mechanisms and vital lies that prevent us from acknowledging the terror. A fear of dying is technically dying at a faster, much more brutal rate; a life is halted from living, because of how the idea of death sequesters souls. We are also aware of our frailty, ephemeral experiences, and finitude. This realization leads us to not do as much as planned with the little life we have. Somehow, we embrace the paradox of "I won't take risks, so I can make it safe to death". Pessimists, although realistic in their assessment of death, are the ones who are likely to say things along the lines of "You are born, and make your way to death", or, "You are born, and then you die, so you better do something in between". Positive or negative, the fact of the matter is that we can only live a little, so you best do something about it.
As I Lay Dying is culpable for stimulating all these thoughts. In it, we are finally transported to Yoknapatawpha county, and the reader finds that it is a land of dead people. If my previous paragraph has any believers, the Bundrens, as well as any human being are the walking dead. Of course, we are not talking about zombies, and as much as we resemble them at times, I am merely suggesting that, ironically, we are all in the process of dying. To me, and perhaps Faulkner would agree, the quicker you come to terms with this bitter reality, the more liberated you will be as a being, because of the indifference that would be developed for death. However, As I Lay Dying presents a different setting with contrasting traumas to which most readers can't relate. The poor, misguided souls here are jaded by death and violence, and what I just proposed cannot be digested properly because the level of suffering, and stagnancy that is produced from said tragedies, is too much for anyone to handle.
As much as suffering is a part of life, there is an average, universal dose that we are all familiar with. In the Bundren's case though, things are twisted to a maximum exponent, in typical Faulkner fashion. Anyone can get away with anything in Yoknawpatawpha county. Although influenced by the real world, this county is separated from the universe, it is a product of Faulkner's imagination. This is his personal habitat for twisted, social experiments that usually go awry. Death, as final as it may be, is what drives this novel. The novel cannot end prematurely even with the passing of Addie, a almost invisible protagonist, whose only sign of life is a death request. Addie is mostly talked about, but that doesn't stop her from taking over much of the novel as though she were a phantom. Much like Caddy in Sound and the Fury, Addie's influence allows every event to trickle down to several characters struggle and demise. With all but her memory (or lack of), and the promise, the Burden's are afflicted by her death, whether or not they care. Each subsequent contemplation and reaction to her death is unique, much like a gathering of individuals at a funeral who are all there for the same purpose, but exposing different emotions. The human condition permits us to celebrate, mourn, or deny death. Whichever we see fit. The title for the novel could well be Addie's Death, but I am pretty sure As I Lay Dying is the only possible title that conveys Faulkner's feelings towards death.
As I Lay Dying is culpable for stimulating all these thoughts. In it, we are finally transported to Yoknapatawpha county, and the reader finds that it is a land of dead people. If my previous paragraph has any believers, the Bundrens, as well as any human being are the walking dead. Of course, we are not talking about zombies, and as much as we resemble them at times, I am merely suggesting that, ironically, we are all in the process of dying. To me, and perhaps Faulkner would agree, the quicker you come to terms with this bitter reality, the more liberated you will be as a being, because of the indifference that would be developed for death. However, As I Lay Dying presents a different setting with contrasting traumas to which most readers can't relate. The poor, misguided souls here are jaded by death and violence, and what I just proposed cannot be digested properly because the level of suffering, and stagnancy that is produced from said tragedies, is too much for anyone to handle.
As much as suffering is a part of life, there is an average, universal dose that we are all familiar with. In the Bundren's case though, things are twisted to a maximum exponent, in typical Faulkner fashion. Anyone can get away with anything in Yoknawpatawpha county. Although influenced by the real world, this county is separated from the universe, it is a product of Faulkner's imagination. This is his personal habitat for twisted, social experiments that usually go awry. Death, as final as it may be, is what drives this novel. The novel cannot end prematurely even with the passing of Addie, a almost invisible protagonist, whose only sign of life is a death request. Addie is mostly talked about, but that doesn't stop her from taking over much of the novel as though she were a phantom. Much like Caddy in Sound and the Fury, Addie's influence allows every event to trickle down to several characters struggle and demise. With all but her memory (or lack of), and the promise, the Burden's are afflicted by her death, whether or not they care. Each subsequent contemplation and reaction to her death is unique, much like a gathering of individuals at a funeral who are all there for the same purpose, but exposing different emotions. The human condition permits us to celebrate, mourn, or deny death. Whichever we see fit. The title for the novel could well be Addie's Death, but I am pretty sure As I Lay Dying is the only possible title that conveys Faulkner's feelings towards death.
The Most Humane Faulkner Novel Yet
It's hard to believe how good Faulkner has gotten in his fifth novel, especially after seeing how he started off in Soldier's Pay. Though As I Lay Dying may have some of the most bizarre characters to date, I've found the Bundren family to be the most complex and believable of the lot. None of these characters are perfect by any means: there are no heroes like Donald Mahon or Dilsey here. However, I didn't find myself really antagonized by any of these characters either, like I was with Cecily Saunders and Jason Compson.
Cash may not be much of a talker, but he is fiercely loyal to his family. I found myself wondering, with his carpenter's tools and self-sacrificing nature, if he wasn't supposed to in some way resemble Jesus. We've talked about religion in Faulkner before, and there are definitely strong undercurrents at work here in the lives of the characters. Sometimes he takes the whole "silent sufferer" thing a bit too far, and it does more harm than the good he intends it to. In any case, as I was reading along, I wanted to hear more of Cash than I did of anyone else.
Darl, the narrator for the majority of the time, is more cerebral than any of the other Bundrens (the live ones, anyway) and a deemed a "queer one" by the neighbors. While his gift for intelligence provided some of the most beautiful and poetic passages of the novel, his seeming un-feeling for his family makes him hard to relate to. He has this incredible intuition, bordering on clairvoyance at times (he describes Addie's death in great detail, though he is miles away at the time), but he never seems to use it to really help anyone: he is too stuck inside his own head.
Jewel may be the hardest character of all to relate to, however. At the beginning he seems like another Jason Compson, but as the novel progresses and the journey to Jefferson grows more arduous, he shows a spirit of loyalty and determination that ends up saving the family numerous times (saving Cash's tools, trading in his horse, rescuing the Gillespies' livestock). Though often abrasive and foolhardy, I think Jewel may be the most heroic of the Bundrens.
Dewey Dell and Vardaman are perhaps the most pathetic characters. They are simply children, thrust into tragic circumstances beyond their maturity level--the death of Addie for Vardaman and an unexpected pregnancy for Dewey Dell. They were the ones I felt the most compassion for, because each is left essentially on their own to deal with these unfortunate things, and both have to muddle their way through the best they can. Anse is similar to them in that he never really seems to have learned how to take care of himself. I didn't find him manipulative or callous, just naive.
Addie may be the one to draw the most criticism from readers: she hates her children (except for the one that seems to like her the least, Jewel) and her husband, she has an affair. She's the one I felt the most sorry for, though. The Bundrens are leading a pretty miserable existence, and she is the only one who is painfully aware of it. Social norms and lack of exposure to the world have left her a very big fish in a small pond, so to speak, and she cannot adapt to her environment. That seems the most tragic situation of all.
In short, I loved this novel because there were no obvious good versus evil dichotomies, no heroes, no villains. Just people.
I ain't beholden to no one.
As I Lay Dying works the idea of pride into almost all the characters. Anse is constantly reminding the other characters that Addie wouldn't begrudge him another day because he is doing his best to get her to Jefferson.
Anse is by all accounts lazy and good for nothing. However, he has a sense of pride that he should accept no help on this journey to get his wife to rest. There seems to be little evidence as to why he is so worried about other characters possibly having some sort of hold over him.
I'm not saying that this makes him less real or believable. It makes him more believable because there are plenty of these people around, even if I don't know they're motivations.
The real humor of the novel is trying to figure out why some of these characters would agree to take part in this journey. Yes, in theory it's because they love their mother and want to honor her wishes.
Jewel may not biologically be Anse's son, but he is Anse's son. Jewel is overly concerned with not being in debt to Anse. He says that he would sooner kill his horse than let it eat Anse's food.
The other characters seem less concerned with being beholden but only seem to follow Anse. They never turn down offers until after Anse has turned it down first.
Anse is by all accounts lazy and good for nothing. However, he has a sense of pride that he should accept no help on this journey to get his wife to rest. There seems to be little evidence as to why he is so worried about other characters possibly having some sort of hold over him.
I'm not saying that this makes him less real or believable. It makes him more believable because there are plenty of these people around, even if I don't know they're motivations.
The real humor of the novel is trying to figure out why some of these characters would agree to take part in this journey. Yes, in theory it's because they love their mother and want to honor her wishes.
Jewel may not biologically be Anse's son, but he is Anse's son. Jewel is overly concerned with not being in debt to Anse. He says that he would sooner kill his horse than let it eat Anse's food.
The other characters seem less concerned with being beholden but only seem to follow Anse. They never turn down offers until after Anse has turned it down first.
Bad Luck
William Faulkner certainly likes to make a large number of characters to throw into a story. It’s difficult to keep them all apart, especially when they are family. The title seems to suggest that the story revolves around the protagonist “As [she] lays dying.” However, considering that she dies not long after the beginning of the story, this is obviously not the case. At the same time, her importance inside of the coffin and the troubles she causes for her family after death seem to show that even though she does nothing purposefully, she is still around to communicate to everyone in someway. In a sense, Darl might have seen or understood the troubles that the dead woman was causing for he and his family, but his reaction did nothing more than cause even more troubles and eventually sent him to an institution for the insane. Whether this is the spirit of Addie causing difficulties for the journey or simple bad luck following the coffin, once the corpse is buried the story and the journey end, letting the time for healing begin.
From Faulkner to Faulkner
As we move into our third full Faulkner novel, I’ve begun to see a distinct difference from the inexperienced and naïve Soldier’s Pay and Mosquitoes to the more skillfully written As I Lay Dying. Different though they may be, they are all markedly Faulkner. Faulkner maintains his characteristic writing style through all of his writing. And although many people might claim that Faulkner’s later works are better than his first novels, I’m not entirely sure this is the case.
One of the characteristically Faulknerian attributes that has persisted throughout all of the novels we’ve read is the lack of coherent punctuation. The longstanding joke that William Faulkner didn’t know how to use a comma has fairly factual roots. Fame did not improve his mechanical skills, and so dedicated fans can count on the confusions from his early novels. Faulkner’s penchant for repetition has also survived. Though more subtle than the repetition in Soldier’s Pay, Faulkner’s use of the same words and phrases over and over are still a part of As I Lay Dying. The difference in later Faulkner is that the repetition is more judicious and discerning. When something is repeated it is important and it makes a certain impression.
Perhaps the most characteristically Faulknerian attribute that has survived from Soldier’s Pay through to As I Lay Dying is stream of consciousness writing. William Faulkner is known for this writing style. Stream of consciousness writing is a style in which a character’s thoughts and emotions are revealed in a continuous flow as if the reader were actually privy to the character’s inner most thoughts. J.D. Salinger, Kurt Vonnegut, and Virginal Wolfe are all examples of some of the most famous stream of consciousness writing. William Faulkner has all but perfected this technique. First seen in some sections of Soldier’s Pay, most notably in the scene in which Mahon’s plan goes down, stream of consciousness writing has marked all of the novels we have read so far. The Sound and Fury, one of Faulkner’s most famous novels, is pretty much entirely stream of consciousness.
As I Lay Dying is not quite as stream of consciousness as The Sound and the Fury. Some of the sections—character perspectives or points of view—seem to be more disjointed than others. In particular, Vardaman and Dewey Dell’s narrations are very stream of consciousness. The novel is written in sections, each section narrated by the different characters. Some of the sections are more structured than others, but those narrated by Vardaman and Dewey Dell are especially piecemeal and characteristically stream of consciousness.
Many people will say that Faulkner’s later works are better than his earlier ones. I disagree. Not only did I find Soldier’s Pay and Mosquitoes easier to read, I also enjoyed them much more. Faulkner’s early novels are more interesting than his later ones. For some reason I feel like I have the type of story in The Sound and the Fury or As I Lay Dying before. Faulkner’s earlier writing was more interesting to me than his later novels have been. Maybe I’m just jaded, or maybe I’m just being difficult, but as of yet, I have not been impressed with “Faulkner” as the masses know him.
One of the characteristically Faulknerian attributes that has persisted throughout all of the novels we’ve read is the lack of coherent punctuation. The longstanding joke that William Faulkner didn’t know how to use a comma has fairly factual roots. Fame did not improve his mechanical skills, and so dedicated fans can count on the confusions from his early novels. Faulkner’s penchant for repetition has also survived. Though more subtle than the repetition in Soldier’s Pay, Faulkner’s use of the same words and phrases over and over are still a part of As I Lay Dying. The difference in later Faulkner is that the repetition is more judicious and discerning. When something is repeated it is important and it makes a certain impression.
Perhaps the most characteristically Faulknerian attribute that has survived from Soldier’s Pay through to As I Lay Dying is stream of consciousness writing. William Faulkner is known for this writing style. Stream of consciousness writing is a style in which a character’s thoughts and emotions are revealed in a continuous flow as if the reader were actually privy to the character’s inner most thoughts. J.D. Salinger, Kurt Vonnegut, and Virginal Wolfe are all examples of some of the most famous stream of consciousness writing. William Faulkner has all but perfected this technique. First seen in some sections of Soldier’s Pay, most notably in the scene in which Mahon’s plan goes down, stream of consciousness writing has marked all of the novels we have read so far. The Sound and Fury, one of Faulkner’s most famous novels, is pretty much entirely stream of consciousness.
As I Lay Dying is not quite as stream of consciousness as The Sound and the Fury. Some of the sections—character perspectives or points of view—seem to be more disjointed than others. In particular, Vardaman and Dewey Dell’s narrations are very stream of consciousness. The novel is written in sections, each section narrated by the different characters. Some of the sections are more structured than others, but those narrated by Vardaman and Dewey Dell are especially piecemeal and characteristically stream of consciousness.
Many people will say that Faulkner’s later works are better than his earlier ones. I disagree. Not only did I find Soldier’s Pay and Mosquitoes easier to read, I also enjoyed them much more. Faulkner’s early novels are more interesting than his later ones. For some reason I feel like I have the type of story in The Sound and the Fury or As I Lay Dying before. Faulkner’s earlier writing was more interesting to me than his later novels have been. Maybe I’m just jaded, or maybe I’m just being difficult, but as of yet, I have not been impressed with “Faulkner” as the masses know him.
Faulkner Refutes the Persistence of Memory (or at least intimacy)
One theme that struck me as crucially important to the plot of As I Lay Dying was the relative impermanence of even the most imtimate relationships. When Addie dies, for most of the characters in the novel, it seems like she crosses an indefinable threshold from personhood to thinghood. The person they knew and loved just hours earlier is now an object, something to be stored in a coffin the way shoes are stored in a closet. Darl and Vardaman take this to existential extremes; is Addie now just an elemental lump? If mother has died, and does not exist, do you have no mother, and therefore also cease to exist?
Anse, for his part, seems incredibly selfish; he is more preoccupied with acquiring new teeth than with mourning his wife and comforting his children. The fact that he finds a new Mrs. Bundren (what his wife was called so shortly ago) while gathering shovels to bury Addie in Jefferson seems to put the final nail in the coffin, as it were, of this novel's often cynical, always introspective treatment of death.
Anse, for his part, seems incredibly selfish; he is more preoccupied with acquiring new teeth than with mourning his wife and comforting his children. The fact that he finds a new Mrs. Bundren (what his wife was called so shortly ago) while gathering shovels to bury Addie in Jefferson seems to put the final nail in the coffin, as it were, of this novel's often cynical, always introspective treatment of death.
As I Lay Dying
So far, As I Lay Dying is my favorite of the Faulkner books we have read. I read in a few places that it was supposed to be darkly comic, but I just did not see the humor in it except for at the end when Cash is describing the new Mrs. Bundren's eyes. The characters of Vardaman and Cash were my favorites and Addie was my least. The whole journey, to bury this woman who was miserable in life and (if she was speaking from the grave, which I am still not clear on) miserable in death. I don't really think it was necessary to bury her in Jefferson, but that Anse was set on it, I thought, was his saving grace. He was not the best father, for sure, and his motives in pushing forward on the journey to bury his wife were questionable, but at least he did fulfill her wish.
Vardaman and his "my mother is a fish" lines were and are still slightly confusing to me. With him, he seemed to be continually grasping for something that is certain, like "Darl is my brother. Jewel is my brother." When he said "My mother does not smell like that" I wanted to cry. He was not really allowed to acknowledge the state that his mother was in, even though he seemed to be very aware-- with the smell and his chasing away the vultures. I felt so bad for Vardaman.
I liked Cash, too, because he seemed so focused on whatever task was at hand and he never complained, even when his leg turned black.
When it came to the dead body, I noticed that the only people to show revulsion were either women or black people. I could not recall an instance where he wrote that a white man had reacted to the smell of Addie through facial expressions or disgust. Maybe I'm wrong about that.
The animals in this book were pretty prominent. Jewel's horse, the fish, the mules, the cat, the ever-present vultures-- there were animals present throughout, and they were pretty significant, although silent, characters. The growing number of vultures was something that was really unsettling. I looked up vultures and I read that a group is called a "wake." Which was pretty fitting.
I really liked As I Lay Dying. I read it twice and I think that it served me very well to do that. I think for me, that's how I got a better grasp of this book, even though I still don't know if I fully "got it." I tried, though.
Vardaman and his "my mother is a fish" lines were and are still slightly confusing to me. With him, he seemed to be continually grasping for something that is certain, like "Darl is my brother. Jewel is my brother." When he said "My mother does not smell like that" I wanted to cry. He was not really allowed to acknowledge the state that his mother was in, even though he seemed to be very aware-- with the smell and his chasing away the vultures. I felt so bad for Vardaman.
I liked Cash, too, because he seemed so focused on whatever task was at hand and he never complained, even when his leg turned black.
When it came to the dead body, I noticed that the only people to show revulsion were either women or black people. I could not recall an instance where he wrote that a white man had reacted to the smell of Addie through facial expressions or disgust. Maybe I'm wrong about that.
The animals in this book were pretty prominent. Jewel's horse, the fish, the mules, the cat, the ever-present vultures-- there were animals present throughout, and they were pretty significant, although silent, characters. The growing number of vultures was something that was really unsettling. I looked up vultures and I read that a group is called a "wake." Which was pretty fitting.
I really liked As I Lay Dying. I read it twice and I think that it served me very well to do that. I think for me, that's how I got a better grasp of this book, even though I still don't know if I fully "got it." I tried, though.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Vardaman
This is the most incomprehensible novel I have encountered in this class so far. Though I concluded the novel with a superficial understanding of each of the characters and found some humor and weight in the novel’s closing sentence (uttered by the despicable Anse Bundren), I am still unclear as to the overall message. Why was it written? What does it all mean? Not that it is relevant, but I did not enjoy it. Not that my opinion matters in light of the genius who is Faulkner, but I think I would have “given more of a damn” about this family if I could have experienced their plight through the eyes of one narrator. Or, at least, less narrators.
Because I am apparently not very intelligent, I could not identify a theme on which to base my response. Therefore, I decided to try focusing on one character. I chose Vardaman.
Vardaman, the youngest of the Bundrens, is the only member of the bunch who can truly be called a child. However, we are first introduced to Vardaman with the following description from Tull:
“That boy comes up the hill. He is carrying a fish nigh long as he is. He slings it to the ground and grunts “Hah” and spits over his shoulder like a man.”
This is not the only mention of Vardaman sharing common characteristics with a much older person than he. Shortly after, Tull says, “He cusses [the fish] like a grown man…”
Vardaman is much younger than his brothers, which could account for the fact that he adopts a man’s mannerisms at a very young age. However, Vardaman loses his crass confidence once his mother dies, and the fish that he once flung so carelessly to the ground, that he so easily chopped into a bloody mess, becomes entwined in his concept of his own mother’s death:
“My mother is a fish.”
The fish seems to represent, to Vardaman, that which existed in one state being altered to another state (“it is cut up into pieces of not-fish now”). It seems to be his young way of handling, yet not fully accepting, his mother’s death: “It was not my mother…It was not her because it was laying right yonder in the dirt. And now it’s all chopped up.”
The idea of the fish comes back to Vardaman in the river-crossing scene:
“You know she is a fish, but you let her get away.”
Because of the great power that water holds in this novel, it seems that there is more to the fish than serving as a coping mechanism for Vardaman. Water adds to the life struggle of the Bundrens, while containing a sense of otherworldly eternity and mystery. Perhaps, then, Vardaman is onto something bigger than he knows (or I currently know) when he says that his mother is a fish. Somehow, his mother, existing now outside of “straight” Time, makes sense as a fish, flowing through the great mystery of water.
Surprisingly, innocent Vardaman adds an element of horror to the novel. The blood on his person when he slaughters the fish is a rare description of gore in the novel. And while his face is often described as “round,” once his mother dies his face takes on horrific qualities: “…all color draining from his face into his mouth, as though he has by some means fleshed his own teeth in himself, sucking.”
Throughout the remainder of the novel, Vardaman seems to have forgotten his mother’s death. He is focused on a shiny, new toy train in a store window. He recites profound information about his family members to himself in a seemingly detached way, without seeming to fully comprehend any of it. His mother’s death, while upsetting his carefree innocence, has also, interestingly, given him a childlike approach to the world that he did not possess before – back when he was a spittin’ and cussin’ man-boy.
Because I am apparently not very intelligent, I could not identify a theme on which to base my response. Therefore, I decided to try focusing on one character. I chose Vardaman.
Vardaman, the youngest of the Bundrens, is the only member of the bunch who can truly be called a child. However, we are first introduced to Vardaman with the following description from Tull:
“That boy comes up the hill. He is carrying a fish nigh long as he is. He slings it to the ground and grunts “Hah” and spits over his shoulder like a man.”
This is not the only mention of Vardaman sharing common characteristics with a much older person than he. Shortly after, Tull says, “He cusses [the fish] like a grown man…”
Vardaman is much younger than his brothers, which could account for the fact that he adopts a man’s mannerisms at a very young age. However, Vardaman loses his crass confidence once his mother dies, and the fish that he once flung so carelessly to the ground, that he so easily chopped into a bloody mess, becomes entwined in his concept of his own mother’s death:
“My mother is a fish.”
The fish seems to represent, to Vardaman, that which existed in one state being altered to another state (“it is cut up into pieces of not-fish now”). It seems to be his young way of handling, yet not fully accepting, his mother’s death: “It was not my mother…It was not her because it was laying right yonder in the dirt. And now it’s all chopped up.”
The idea of the fish comes back to Vardaman in the river-crossing scene:
“You know she is a fish, but you let her get away.”
Because of the great power that water holds in this novel, it seems that there is more to the fish than serving as a coping mechanism for Vardaman. Water adds to the life struggle of the Bundrens, while containing a sense of otherworldly eternity and mystery. Perhaps, then, Vardaman is onto something bigger than he knows (or I currently know) when he says that his mother is a fish. Somehow, his mother, existing now outside of “straight” Time, makes sense as a fish, flowing through the great mystery of water.
Surprisingly, innocent Vardaman adds an element of horror to the novel. The blood on his person when he slaughters the fish is a rare description of gore in the novel. And while his face is often described as “round,” once his mother dies his face takes on horrific qualities: “…all color draining from his face into his mouth, as though he has by some means fleshed his own teeth in himself, sucking.”
Throughout the remainder of the novel, Vardaman seems to have forgotten his mother’s death. He is focused on a shiny, new toy train in a store window. He recites profound information about his family members to himself in a seemingly detached way, without seeming to fully comprehend any of it. His mother’s death, while upsetting his carefree innocence, has also, interestingly, given him a childlike approach to the world that he did not possess before – back when he was a spittin’ and cussin’ man-boy.
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