What about Faulkner

You find yourself halfway through what is said to be one of the greatest novels of the 20th century, yet nothing quite adds up. The characters narrating the story offer conflicting versions of events, often appearing uncertain about who, what, or when they are referring to. Seemingly insignificant details evoke intense emotional reactions that leave you perplexed. Furthermore, the prose is filled with complex sentences and extravagant imagery. Confusion sets in, but fear not, for you are on the right track. William Faulkner is renowned as one of America's most remarkable and enigmatic writers. However, he did not play with his audience for mere amusement. Faulkner deliberately employed confusion as a tool to explore the enigmatic aspects of the human mind and delve into pressing issues of personal, racial, and regional identity. The outcome is a body of work that is shocking, innovative, and often humorous, but above all, it presents a challenge.

So, what clues should readers seek to navigate through Faulkner's intricate literary labyrinths? Many of his novels are set in the fictional county of Yoknapatawpha, a fantastical reimagining of Lafayette County, Mississippi, where Faulkner spent most of his life. Born in 1897, Faulkner grew up immersed in oral storytelling traditions, ranging from folklore and family histories to local legends of Civil War heroism. However, these grand myths did not align with the messy reality of the American South, torn apart by racist Jim Crow laws and burdened by the legacies of slavery and colonial violence. All these tensions find their expression within Yoknapatawpha. Bursting with horror, humor, and human tragedy, Faulkner's stories feature an array of memorable characters, such as the jilted bride who sleeps next to her would-be husband's lifeless body or the deceived sharecropper consumed by an obsessive search for imaginary coins. At first glance, these characters may appear grotesquely absurd, but beneath the surface, they all mirror Faulkner's preoccupation with how individuals process the past—what they stubbornly cling to, inadvertently forget, and willingly distort.

A significant portion of Faulkner's fiction is narrated from multiple perspectives, offering the reader various versions of the events. For instance, in "The Sound and the Fury," the narratives of Benjy, Quentin, and Jason Compson, three brothers haunted by memories of their sister Caddy, are intertwined. One brother's account occasionally fills in the gaps left by another's, but more often than not, their recollections contradict each other. To add to the confusion, Benjy's narration jumps disjointedly between past and present without warning. Meanwhile, Quentin's section blurs the line between reality and fantasy as it delves backward in time from the day of his untimely death. Only the aggressive and money-driven Jason attempts to embrace the present, but even he is incessantly consumed by past resentments. Following these narrative threads can be bewildering, but Faulkner wants the audience to share in the characters' confusion. This approach allows readers to understand the biases and blind spots of the Compson family firsthand. Moreover, as the characters' distortions of the past often reflect broader denials of Southern history, it enables Faulkner to explore his own anxieties about the South. For example, in his novel "Light in August," Faulkner intentionally introduces ambiguity regarding a character's racial background, challenging the rigid Jim Crow policies. In "Absalom, Absalom!" the narrators from the town mention that "no one knew how" a local landowner acquired his property and that his house seemed to have materialized "out of nothing." This evasive language illustrates how the characters are desperate to conceal the region's unbearable history of genocide and slavery.

However, even when tackling weighty subjects, Faulkner captivates readers with his linguistic acrobatics. In "Absalom, Absalom!," a particularly bewildering sentence spans a staggering 1,288 words, featuring locals haggling over "violently-colored candy," a "cloudy swirl of chickens," and a hard-drinking planter who is compared to both a worn-out cannon and a showgirl. Even his humor can contribute to the confusion, such as when Benjy Compson conflates his sister Caddy with golf caddies. Reading Faulkner is rarely a straightforward task, but it is undeniably rewarding. He invites readers to contemplate the unreliable nature of history and memory. By teaching us to embrace confusion and recognize the limitations of our perception, Faulkner assists us in uncovering hidden meanings within the tumultuous sound and fury that surrounds us.

Henrik Leandro