“The past is never
dead. It’s not even
past.”
William Faulkner,
1897-1962
My publicly declared vow to reread the eight or so books I possess
by William Faulkner is still standing. In date order of course. I’m
about halfway through. My friend the professor thinks it may
have accounted for my January lows. Not that the books are
bad.
Faulkner? Who he? Not a recent Booker prize winner, for sure.
Though he did win the rather less retail-oriented Nobel Prize for
Literature in 1949.
He grew up in the American south, in an era when survivors of
the 1860s Civil War were still around and imposing their values on
southern society. For Faulkner’s generation the past really was
present, and the impact on the United States is still profoundly
present today. Many of his books deal with the war and the
aftermath, especially the impact on the black underclass of the
south.
The Faulkners I’ve read so far have left me disturbed by the sick
and desperate state of US race relations revealed in the early
books. Towards the end of the Civil War the liberated slaves
were promised 40 acres and a mule, to build their own farm.
The famous phrase was still being quoted by artists like James
Brown in the 1970s.
The promise was withdrawn fairly quickly and has come to
symbolise the failure of the newly-formed United States in
providing for freed slaves. It doesn’t take much imagination to
feel the sense of dread and oppression that black people in the
south lived under. Lynchings, of black by white, regularly took
place at least up to the 1960s. Listen – really listen - to the
words of Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit. You may never want to
hear it again.
It wasn’t all white-on-black violence – the white mob could
easily turn on their own, with lynchings of white people running
at about a third of those of black people, according to some
records.
Faulkner grew up with this, and it runs through his books
like a murderous undertow. His characters are often poor,
disenfranchised, and in fear. The books usually have a ‘good’
character, powerless to combat the violent tide of poorly
educated prejudice.
He’s a great writer and storyteller - Sanctuary is unbeatable,
a real pageturner that must have scandalised contemporary
readers and is shocking today. The Sound And The Fury is the one
that usually gets mentioned, and is influenced by James Joyce’s
groundbreaking stream of consciousness writing. It takes more
than one read before it starts to make sense.
The Unvanquished is a gripping Civil War adventure, with a Boys’
Own flavour that paints a misleadingly rosy picture of the events
that tore apart the northern and southern states. Light In August
and As I Lay Dying survive Faulkner’s slightly heavy-handed sense
of humour, with great portrayals of driven characters.
Faulkner the man? Well, that’s a story in itself. He married the
love of his life, but only after she had divorced her first husband,
and he drank whisky avidly and to his detriment. He worked in
Hollywood as a scriptwriter, and contributed to the classics The
Big Sleep and To Have And Have Not, both great Bogart films.
And he wrote many more books, often focussing on the
apocryphal Yoknapatawpha County and the interlocked lives of
its inhabitants, in reality a portrait of what he saw around him
in the South.
Faulkner will always be relevant, as long as there is blind
prejudice. The books are dark, gripping, thoughtful and thought-
provoking. The writing is uplifting, the subject matter less so
– you’ll be glad you read them, but you may need something
lighter to read afterwards, something cleansing, the equivalent
of a good hot shower.
The past? It’s right in front of you. As Misty In Roots said:
“Without a knowledge of your history you cannot determine your
destiny. And if you’re not conscious of the present you’re like a
cabbage in society.”
Rob Walsh
49
