Classmates, I need some help. I’m trying to better understand Darl’s language within the humor of As I Lay Dying. Throughout his richly illustrative narrations are passages that surpass mere description and enter a realm of ‘excess.’ Each instance is ‘excessive’ to a different degree, on one end bearing a more coherent or ‘comprehensible’ relationship to the characters and their experiences that Darl describes and, on the other far end, capitulating to inscrutability – or so it seems to me. What I’m unsure of is whether the latter instances are in fact inscrutable or if I’m simply misunderstanding them. And if they are so obscure, did Faulkner write them this way intentionally to humorously convey something about Darl’s character, or are they earnest flourishes?
The most prominent examples of Darl’s ‘excesses’ are in his descriptions of Jewel, at times grotesque (his skin shifting from red to green), surreal (his face becoming wood and eyes growing paler), and, when Jewel is interacting with the horse, sometimes arrhythmic and disjunctive. Many, perhaps all, of these moments have a kind of clarity. For example, Jewel’s wooden back might suggest his virility, or at least a virility that Darl perceives (he originally thought that Jewel was sneaking out to sleep with a woman, as we discussed in class last week).
But there are also moments in which Darl’s language becomes so hyperbolic that Faulkner seems to have written them as humorously ironic gestures that hint at the limits of Darl’s narration. The first time we witness Jewel interacting with his horse, Darl describes Jewel moving “with the flashing limberness of a snake.” Then, in the following sentence, he describes Jewel’s body as “free, horizontal, whipping snake-limber” (12). Characters repeat themselves often throughout the book, and in this instance I wonder if Faulkner is poking a little fun at, or at least calling attention to, Darl’s penchant for the grandiose and symbolic.
Another moment potentially in the same vein: Cash and Vernon are finishing the coffin the night following Addie’s death. Pa stands with them outside in the rain, dithering around, being a nuisance. When Cash tells Pa to go back in the house, “Pa looks at him, his face streaming slowly. It is as though upon a face carved by a savage caricaturist a monstrous burlesque of all bereavement flowed” (78). The hyperbole of Darl’s vision of his father – whose face is a caricature AND a character in a burlesque, an object of savagery AND monstrosity – is then contrasted, perhaps downplayed, by the following paragraph, when Pa is once again wavering around, quietly mourning: “fall[ing] to shifting the planks, picking them up, laying them down again carefully, as though they are glass” (78). Is Darl’s exaggerated description sound or merely ridiculous?
Then there are moments of seemingly downright obscurity. The white road sign for New Hope Church, “wheels up like a motionless hand lifted above the profound desolation of the ocean” (108). Whose hand? God’s? Is this vision original or Biblical? (I couldn’t find it in the Bible.) Was the hand originally motionless or is it motionless to match the stillness of the sign?
Pa’s “humped silhouette partak[es] of that owl-like quality of awry-feathered, disgruntled outrage” (49). I’ll submit that owls have feathers that grow in different directions, but outrage is not a quality I’ve ever heard associated with them. Not just outrage, but “disgruntled outrage!” Why the redundancy? Is Faulkner idiosyncratically testing conventions of literary economy for emphasis or is he just ‘taking the piss,’ as the British say?
Or is he doing both, humorously limning the borders not just between subjectivity and objectivity, but of Darl’s subjective narration itself: between its potential to achieve a poetic, “ecstatic” truth (per Werner Herzog) vs. its susceptibility to failure, of failing to ‘land.’ Surely, Darl succeeds far more than he fails, which is why I’m wrestling with this question with such uncertainty.
I’ll close with a quote from Thomas Paine’s Age of Reason that I think brilliantly speaks to the topic at hand: “The sublime and the ridiculous are often so nearly related that it is difficult to class them separately. One step above the sublime makes the ridiculous, and one step above the ridiculous makes the sublime again.”

