Let’s talk about Shreve. He’s a hell of a guy. Salt of the Earth. Wind beneath your wings. A ray of warm sunlight shining onto your face. Well, really, we’ve barely got to know him. But in Chapter 6, he’s the next narrator. Now, with basically any narrator we as a class have read in Faulkner’s world, every narrator will tell their side of the whatever story is being told. Whether it be the disjointed and out of sync story telling of Benjy from The Sound and the Fury, or the various dialogues found in As I Lay Dying, every single character has their own unique voice and input into what is going on in the current events in their world. What is interesting about Shreve is that he takes an empathetic interest with interrogating his Harvard roommate, Quentin, asking about his past and his life in the mysterious world of the American South. Shreve comes across as someone who is interviewing a person from a completely alien world, asking questions like “What’s it like there? What do they (southerners) do there? (Absalom, Absalom!, 174). To me at least, he also comes off as like a modern day tabloid as while he will listen intently to Quentin’s story, he will also input his own spin or analysis of what he is selectively hearing. Almost akin to someone retelling a story of which they have heard nothing but stereotypes and horror stories about this seemingly monolithic world of the South, when still, the south is just another part of the same country. Especially during the time of Faulkner, this was probably not far from the truth of how the rest of the world viewed the Southern States and the vast cultural differences from the rest of the Union. And this same viewpoint has been expressed by various other characters in Yoknapatawpha county when judging the overarching progressive cultural changes that have stemmed from Northern States. Perhaps this curiosity of the “other” is prevalent even in modern day America. But nonetheless, it seems appropriate that Shreve, a Canadian, would be curious about the life of his fellow Harvard University roommate and less so about the actual content of the Sutpen story, especially since his roommate comes from a seemingly peculiar corner of the world.

The refined working topic for my research paper focuses on analyzing Faulkner’s commentary on fascism or fascist ideology through characters in A Light in August and The Sound and the Fury. Specifically analyzing Percy Grimm, a particularly vicious character and one in which Faulkner famously exclaims he “invented the Nazis before the Nazis” as well as analyzing the prejudices and intense narcissism of Jason Compson. By analyzing these two characters, and perhaps additional ones in the other novels such as Caddy Compson as a starch contrast, or characters in Absalom!, Absalom! if I have time, will further understand how Faulkner has envisioned the American South as well as deconstructing the apparent battle for the soul of Southern Identity. Especially in the multi frontal war (you could say a World War of identities and ideas) of Christian dogma, Racism, and Progressive change.

Primary Source: A Light in August

When it comes to analyzing racialized ideology that has been translated into fascist ideology, A Light in August is a prime novel to examine and focus my research paper. As mentioned in the preface, the character Percy Grimm appears in the novel along with his violent actions of murdering Joe Christmas, a mixed raced man. Questions arise about the famous phrase of how Faulkner “invented the Nazis before the Nazis” via the character of Percy Grimm. Moreover, what do the consequences of Percy’s actions, specifically his ability to organize hate, mean for the identity of the people that live in Yaknapatawpha county?

Primary Source: The Sound and the Fury

While not as obviously connected to fascism as the previous primary source, I think it is useful to analyze the character of Jason Compson and his obsessive narcissism, specifically blaming most other people for his failures in life, including the failure to take on any ounce of personal responsibility. While this might appear as just a psychological analysis of the character, as the story of his backstory unfolds, he and his family’s name, the Compsons, have had a long lineage with the slave trade that has built the family fortune. Now that free involuntary labor is no longer accessible to what was once the family’s seemingly infinite growth in wealth, the ability to reinvent themselves in a new southern economy proves difficult for members like Jason, who often times blames minority groups for his and his family’s failures to save their respectability and prestige. This character would prove quite fruitful in the analysis of the identity of the South, particularly with its racially segregated past, and how the slow but systematic deconstruction of racial oppression, tests the endurance and viability of members of this society that have specifically benefited from the previous system. Furthermore, how characters like Jason Compson might be one of the millions of people who became prime targets to joining fascist movements.

Source 1: Spoth, Daniel. “Totalitarian Faulkner: The Nazi Interpretation of ‘Light in August’ and ‘Absalom, Absalom!’.” ELH, vol. 78, no. 1, 2011, pp. 239–257.

This text is particularly useful in that it researches how the Reichsschrifttumskammer (RSK), which was the Nazi government agency tasked with organizing what types of literature would be published in Nazi Germany, somehow published not only Faulkner’s Light in August, but also Absalom, Absalom!. What is interesting is that Faulkner does not shed any good praise, to say the least, on some of the characters that would most align with fascist ideology and militarism (i.e. Percy Grimm organizing lynchings and propaganda), and yet still, both of these books were published during the rise of Hitler’s Germany. This article investigate how RSK interpreted Faulkner’s work and how they allowed Faulkner’s fiction to circulate their growing empire.

Source 2: Meyerson, Gregory, and Jim Neilson. “Pulp Fiction: The Aesthetics of Anti-Radicalism in William Faulkner’s ‘Light in August.’” Science & Society, vol. 72, no. 1, 2008, pp. 11–42.

Building off of Source 1, this next source interprets Faulkner’s work through a Marxist lens, a noticeable contrast to the analysis of the Spoth article. It focuses on the political economic conditions that fuel the motivations of characters in the novel, particularly the class struggle “flamed by socioeconomic catastrophe” of the great depression and general post slavery era of American history. I think this analysis is interesting and useful in comparing some of the similarities of the struggles of Germany’s (and other fascist states) reclaiming over the loss of its identity after the Treaty of Versailles, as well as the South’s loss of identity after the abolition of slavery and into the Jim Crow era. Specifically, how the characters represented in A Light in August have manifested as a precursor to some of the real world events of World War II.

Source 3: Follansbee, Jeanne A. “Sweet Fascism in the Piney Woods”: Absalom, Absalom! as Fascist Fable.” Modernism/modernity, vol. 18 no. 1, 2011, p. 67–94.

This article attempts to analyze the tropes of fascism that make up the novel of Absalom, Absalom!. Particularly analyzing the similarities between character Thomas Sutpen and the fascist leaders that arose in and around World War II. The article analyses what was once the very real fears of the United States birthing its own Hitler in the American South, even long before the fascist movements arose in Europe.

Source 4: Rollyson, Carl. “The Life of William Faulkner: The Past is Never Dead, 1897-1934.” University of Virginia Press, vol. 1, 2020, p. 394–500

This book details an extensive overview of the life of the man himself, Mr. William Faulkner, including the inspirations and ideas deeply ingrained in his many works and writings. Chapter 6, titled Return, particularly focuses on the creation of Faulkner’s works that address the ideological manifestations of fascism in his books A Light in August and Absalom, Absalom!.

Source 5: Faulkner, William. “Dry September.” HarperPerenial Classics. 1931.

This source is a short story that Faulkner wrote in 1931. It details the gruesome lynching of a black man after being accused of attacking a white woman. This story is particularly disturbing but is useful nonetheless for its exact depictions of racialized divisions and anger in the American South post-slavery. Particularly, how this one example, representing countless numbers of lynching done to African Americans could have been a precursor similar to the events of fascist and other ideologically totalitarian states in Europe during the 20^th century.

Source 6: Atkinson, Ted. “Faulkner and the Great Depression: Aesthetics, Ideology, and Cultural Politics.” University of Georgia Press, 2006.

This final source summarizes essentially the essence of my working topic for this research paper, how Faulkner’s writings represent a battleground of ideas not only through the struggle of the characters in his novels, but in the American South itself. How Faulkner wrote ahead of his time especially about all the different ways the soul of the South would be tested and fought over during the time of the great depression and before the rise of authoritarian or totalitarian fascist dictatorships in Europe.

Post Script: Since we as a class have not yet finished Absalom, Absalom!, I do not know if I will have time to give it the analytical justice it deserves. But I will do my best because it does fit in well with my paper topic.

I mean, who else was just thrilled when they learned that we wouldn’t know who the next president was for about a week or so due to slow vote counting. Anyways, my research topic is still being developed and not yet finalized or set in stone. But one topic that was brought up last week that definitely peaked my interest was learning that the Nazi Party of Germany pre-World War II had studied the American South and how southern states had organized themselves during the time of slavery. More significantly, how the southern powers at be “handled” minority groups with control and brutal oppression. I think I want to expand on that, especially since Faulkner writes from a Southern perspective and that many of his most famous books were authored and published during the rise of Nazi Germany in the 1930’s. So one central question that I can come up with is essentially: what southern influences or practices did the Nazi’s study to incorporate in their own ideology and how does Faulkner write about some of these ideas in his novels?

Just like the one I think I know? Or maybe it’s not so white. The topic of this blog post will be that of Christmas and Faulkner’s commentary of his identity in A Light in August. Christmas as a character has always been somewhat of a mystery in the novel specifically not knowing his intentions or origin. But through bits and pieces, more details about who Christmas really is reveals itself. One of the major findings which adds to Faulkner’s larger work on the discussion of race relations in the United States’ Deep South is that Christmas himself being of mixed race origin. As just mentioned, Faulkner has commentated on race in the last three of his novels that we have read, particularly the dualities between “white” society and that of “black” society in Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha county. But what happens when a character does not entirely fit in either of these societies? In the case of Christmas, he exists in that exact conundrum. It is learned that he passes as a white man but also does not feel comfortable abandoning his black heritage. This an interesting dynamic for a character to have, especially in the Jim Crow south, because identity is what bonds most groups of people in these very divided times. This is also a disguisable and important commentary, one much ahead of its time, about the absurdity of the identity politics of the Jim Crow south, especially as it is written 30 years prior to that of the civil rights movement.

One historical example of the South that comes to mind is that of the “one-drop rule,” in which a person with at least one drop of blood from African origin, was considered a black American, even if he or she looked entirely ethnically white or of another ethnicity. Individuals are complex, rigid, and unique, and these rules and social pressures only put people into boxes. The existence of the character of Christmas validates people who never could have even been accurately put into the boxes of Jim Crow, thus being isolated from an already repressive society. Moreover, Faulkner is also famous for implementing Christian symbolism and commentary of its virtues in his novels. Perhaps Christmas himself is somewhat of a Christ figure, isolated by all sides of society based on who he really is not as the member of a group, but as an individual in the world. Although he is plainly named Christmas, perhaps again it also reasonable to assume he is a Christ figure that is hiding in plain sight. But nonetheless, Faulkner raising the point about other groups of marginalized people living in 1930’s Jim Crow Southern States of America, such as mixed raced people, raises concerns and critiques about these rather strange times in American history. One that is raised is how do these people that do not belong strictly to one racial group survive in a time that is obsessed tribalism and with the separation of race?

“Sawmill”

A machine or factory in which logs are sawed into lumber.

I was originally planning on writing this as a Yoknapedia post, but upon my review, the meat of what I had written ended up reading more in the form of a regular blog post. An observation of a motif that might play a more significant role towards the end of the novel and further connect the Faulkner universe of characters and stories. Perhaps I am wrong. I don’t know, it’s been a long week. So this entry is kinda the best of both worlds.

Especially upon reading The Sound And The Fury and As I Lay Dying, Faulkner peppers his stories with symbolic imagery to deepen the meaning of certain characters, places, or even things. The most common symbolism is that of Christianity, most notably how the religion is self-evidently and most deeply ingrained into the culture of the American South; the setting of his novels. So why not include it as a common theme or motif in the entire Yoknapatawpha universe? From the character named Christmas to the motifs of resurrection, A Light in August is also no stranger to Faulkner’s Christian metaphors and symbolism. The “sawmill,” which is mentioned a couple of times in the first few chapters represents the creation of a cross and the foreshadowing of some sort of crucifixion. As described in the definition above, a “sawmill” is primarily used to take logs of wood and turn them into appropriately sized lumber. This lumber could be used for the construction of practically anything. From wooden furniture to the creation of a guillotine or gallows, the sawmill can architecturally turn wood into something constructive or destructive. And what is more symbolically destructive than that of two lumber logs, forming a “t” shaped structure, bearing what Christians believe as the Prince of Peace, as he hangs, rots, and suffers for days in utter agony until he finally dies. And based on the stories from Christianity, this is but one of two major events that have used wood work to radically change the world; parallel to drastically changing the story in Faulkner’s fiction.

The first is that of the story of Noah of which he builds a large ark prior to God’s flood of the earth as He washes away the sinners of the world. In Faulkner’s lore, this representation could be found in As I Lay Dying, specifically when the Bundren family almost drown in a ferocious storm while trying to cross a river with the coffin of Addie Bundren. The second Christian story using wood work is that of which I just described. The story of Jesus of Nazareth and his crucifixion by the Romans after Judas’ betrayal. Now, I might be mistaken to only identify two stories of importance that use wood work, but I think it is safe to assume that Faulkner will 1.) not repeat the story of Noah in this novel and 2.) a character, or even several characters, within A Light in August will be crucified by one means or another. Maybe not in the literal sense of building an actual cross and nailing characters to it (even though that would be a shocking twist to the story). But perhaps through a betrayal of another character and the creation and bearing of their own individual crosses. Or even that of simply bearing a cross and carrying their own suffering either as their own personal responsibility or through painful punishment.

I link two citations in this post. The first citation links back to my own blog post from As I Lay Dying, discussing this idea of the parallel between the Bundren family crossing the river and the Christian story of Noah. The second citation lists an article I found that goes into further analysis (and into spoilers of A Light In August) of the idea of wood being a symbolic image that connects to Christianity, offering several examples from the novel where this is most prevalent. Since we as a class are not yet finished with the text, I did my best not to spoil the rest of the novel viewing this article. Also below is a quote that mentions the sawmill in context with the story. Again, a hybrid post of the blog and Yoknapedia.

“But perhaps he did not yet know himself that he was not going to commit the sin. The five of them were gathered quietly in the dusk about sagging doorway of a deserted sawmill shed where, waiting hidden 100 yards away, they had watched the negro girl entering look back once and then vanish.” (ALIA 156)

Borrero-Garcia, Nikolas. An Adventurous Death. Faulkner Hunter 389, CUNY Academic Commons, 1 October 2020, faulknerhunter.commons.gc.cuny.edu/2020/10/01/an-adventurous-death.

Frye, Allen. Faulkner’s Distorted Crucifix: Wood Imagery in Light in August, Southeast Missouri State University, semo.edu/cfs/teaching/4881.html.

From the first several chapters and sections of As I Lay Dying, the topic of death is ever present as Addie Bundren is laid to rest. As this a very challenging text to interpret, as there are so many layers and characters to unpack, I have titled this post “An Adventurous Death” for two reasons: 1.) The group of 15 characters are quite literally on a journey to bury the deceased Addie Bundren, and 2.) The narration of how each character perceives death is an adventure in and of itself. It is rather quite interesting how Faulkner has written some diverse narrations of how these characters come to grips with a person to whom they all know, and who eventually dies. Most of the characters guide their grief and preparation for the burial through Christian biblical teachings, others are more constructive and hands on with the preparations. Cash, for example, literally constructs a casket with his carpenter skills to honor his mother, while some characters like Daryl, who are not even present at the time of Addie Bundren’s death, has a sixth sense of knowing that she has indeed died. Perhaps it is a religious awakening or calling of some sort.

            What I found most interesting in these previous sections is the depths of which the group is willing to go to honor the life of Addie Bundren by enduring some of their own suffering during the journey. In addition, there are also an incredible amount of parallels of the group’s journey to that of biblical references and moral teachings. Especially when taking her body to Jefferson, the group encounters severe rains, which almost drown the group in the river crossing. Maybe this is a bit of a stretch, but it reminded me of the biblical story of Noah and the cleansing of the earth and all of its sins with great floods created by God. Perhaps this was a test for the group to wash away whatever sins they may have committed during the life of their (very religious) mother and to complete the ultimate redemption arc by carrying the coffin to its final destination. In way, bearing the cross of their suffering. Another moment of Christian parallel is with Addie herself in which she has her own narration even though she has died earlier on in the progression of the story; resembling an almost Christ like resurrection and aura to her omnipresent narrative.

She says at the end of section “One day I was talking to Cora. She prayed for me because she believed I was blind to sin, wanting me to kneel and pray to, because people to whom sin is just a matter of words, to them Salvation is just words too (276).” It seems that these characters, both dead and alive, are on a journey not to just honor the dead, but to prove their own Christian worth and atone for their own sins. Almost like a race to cleanse themselves individually and to “one-up” each other of whether they can prove to be above their sinful pasts and wrongdoings.

The Compson family is no more! The empire has fallen! Or at least, the family had nearly fallen due to the chaos caused by the incompetency of its characters to revive the family name. Chapter 4 of The Sound and the Fury solidifies how the family’s legacy almost fell into obscurity, with a narration by a 3^rd person through the perspective of Dilsey.

            Of the events of this concluding final chapter, perhaps one of the central and most challenged ideas of the novel is that of the motif of “family.” Specifically gender roles and the particular family dynamics of each and every member. Beginning with Mrs. Compson and her relationship with her children, Mrs. Compson attempts to exile members of her own family who have gravely sinned or wronged the family name—a great purge of the Compson empire, if it will. This becomes especially true with her own daughter. As learned throughout the novel, Caddy breaks away from the traditional, often religiously guided, gender role of a being a “southern lady” of a well-respected southern family to instead evolve into a free spirited, sexually open, individual woman. As illustrated in Chapter 4, Mrs. Compson burns the checks belonging to Caddy, metaphorically burning her and all her sins away from the family. Caddy has always been the black sheep of the family, and with Mrs. Compson being the controlling shepherd that she reveals she is, has little patience for those who do not follow along with the rest of herd. It is interesting how even though Caddy is so critically central to the events that unfold in this story, she herself is pushed out from having her own narration or chapter in the novel, thus solidifying her banishment from her family and having anything to say to defend her side of the story.

            While Caddy is subsequently pushed out of the family, the male figures in the Compson story represents a fall of their masculinity. Returning to the theme of family and gender roles, it is traditional that men of the south and any culturally conservative household in general become “strong” “embodied leaders,” especially to become inheritors to their family’s legacy. And although more than three quarters of the novel illustrates the perspectives of three central male characters, all of them end up incompetent to inherit the family legacy at all, let alone restore the family name. With their individual traumas, defects, and incredibly outlandish obsession with their sister Caddy, the main three men seem to have each failed (either voluntarily or involuntarily) to revive the family name for the next generation of Compsons. Hence, cutting the amount of “time” that the Compson family has left to survive its own internal struggles. Some of this blame can also be put on Mrs. Compson herself and her failure to successfully lead the family the way she would have wanted, and to instead have all three of her sons become utterly intrenched in the whereabouts and behavior of their own sister instead of learning to take charge of the family when she is inevitably gone. In short, pun intended, while the Chapter does end on a high note with Dilsey taking charge, the concluding message of the novel leans to that of chaos of a once high and mighty family, desperately trying to reorganize and reidentify itself for its survival for the future.    

Upon plunging into The Sound and the Fury and voluntarily riding on Faulkner’s rollercoaster of a narrative, the motif of time and the theme of mental health and mental disability captivate the essence of the story thus far. In Chapter One, Faulkner introduces the mentally disabled man of Benjy using prose that disjoint the various memories Benjy recalls. One moment, Benjy might be talking about a memory from Christmas and the next about sometime in the spring, introducing whole new groups of characters and out-of-context dialog. This disjointedness of the narrative demonstrates that for Benjy, time is almost waistless, a non-factor, or something that flows with his Being in the world. Most notably, Faulkner uses Benjy’s seemingly simple and random memories to foreshadow future events of characters whom might take the idea of time much more seriously.

“We must be quiet while Quentin’s studying.” Father said. “What are you doing Jason?” “Nothing.” Jason said. “Suppose you come over here to do it then.” Father said. Jason came out of the corner. “What are you chewing?” Father said. “He’s chewing paper again.” Caddy said. “Come here, Jason.” Father said. Jason threw into the fire. It hissed, uncurled, turning black. Then it was gray. Then it was gone. (72).

It is interesting how in the next chapter, Quentin is introduced as a Harvard student, which correlates to Benjy’s memory of him studying at the time when Jason was chewing paper. And it is equally interesting that Jason discards the paper into the fire, where it burns away into nothing, foreshadowing Quentin’s untimely death; his suicide.

If the time-line of this story was not already disjointed enough, Quentin’s section in Chapter Two further adds to complexity of these characters. The motif of time returns in the opening of the chapter when Quentin says  “I was in time again, hearing the [pocket] watch” (76). His fixation on time and his pocket-watch might suggest that he is struggling to understand time itself and his place in the world. In a sense, Quentin’s relationship to time reminds me Albert Camus’ The Stranger, in which the protagonist, Meursault, struggles to find purpose in his life, leaving him feel almost like a stranger in what he would describe as an increasingly “absurd” world. Quentin similarly seems to struggle with himself and the world, especially with his shocking revelations of incest and plans to end his own life.

While Benjy flows like water with the relationship with time, Quentin crashes like a wave as demonstrated throughout his narrative. He rants and raves about all of the wrong he has done to himself and his family, exclaiming how “…I [he] see now that I have not suffered enough I see now that I must pay for your (Jason) sins as well as mine…” (103). His repeated and intense ramblings about memories throughout his life cut in between paragraphs and sentences. The mental breakdown and gradual decline of Quentin’s mental health is full view of the reader, jerking almost violently through emotions and past experiences, only for his soul to rest when the his own internal pocket-watch finally stops ticking.