As I Lay Reading...Faulkner and the American South

For some reason, I’ve always been fascinated with the American South, though the closest I’ve ever gotten to its parts was during a layover in St. Louis (unless you count New Orleans Square at Disneyland, which, I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoy, especially the Dixie jam sessions). I don’t know; for me, an intense, almost frightening mystery seems attached to it; something beautiful, but also dark. Maybe it’s all of the historical drama that has taken place there, or the extreme characters, ways of life, and events that have sprouted from its soil, and have subsequently shaped/affected our American identity. Or maybe it’s much simpler; maybe it’s because it’s so foreign, just really different than my California surroundings, and as such, I find everything about it to be interesting. Of course, my feelings toward the South are mostly second-hand generalizations based on movies (Interview with a Vampire, Gone with the Wind, The Color Purple, Fried Green Tomatoes, Cape Fear, Cold Mountain, etc.), television (“True Blood”), history books, the media, and literature (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Awakening, To Kill a Mockingbird, Faulkner, O’Connor, Beloved, etc.). But at the same time, I trust that there’s some truth to these representations, and will continue to allow them to indulge and inform my thirst for the enigma that is the American South.

So, in an effort to be close to this region, I recently looked to one of its most insightful citizens: William Faulkner. To be honest with you, I really haven’t read that much of this literary giant. I’ve taught and studied his gothic short story “A Rose for Emily,” which I love and respect, and have completed two distracted, unsuccessful readings of The Sound and the Fury, but that’s about it. But now, with my MA in tow, I’m determined to become familiar with Faulkner’s works so that I can better understand why I’m so drawn to southern culture. What does my attraction to the South say about me? What is so alluring about the South, and how/why is this enthrallment important, if it is at all? Obviously, I may never fully answer these questions, and I could create an encyclopedia set trying to, but I want to explore a bit of what I discovered while reading As I Lay Dying, Faulkner’s 1930 novel.

Addie Bundren has died. Her son Cash has built her a wooden coffin, and the rest of her immediate family, including her husband, is fulfilling her wishes by taking her to Jefferson, Mississippi to be buried. During their trek across the countryside, the Bundrens’ wagon, muscled by mules and including Addie in her coffin, must cross a river at its shallowest part. The risks are high, but this passage is their only choice if they want to carry out Addie’s request. Before they make this attempt, Addie’s son Darl describes the effect the river has upon him:

“Before us the thick dark current runs. It talks up to us in a murmur become ceaseless and myriad, the yellow surface dimpled monstrously into fading swirls travelling along the surface for an instant, silent, impermanent and profoundly significant, as though just beneath the surface something huge and alive waked for a moment of lazy alertness out of and into light slumber again.
It clucks and murmurs among the spokes and about the mules’ knees, yellow, skummed with flotsam and with thick soiled gouts of foam as though it had sweat, lathering, like a driven horse. Through the undergrowth it goes with a plaintive sound, a musing sound; in it the unwinded cane and saplings lean as before a little gale, swaying without reflections as though suspended on invisible wires from the branches overhead. Above the ceaseless surface they stand—trees, cane, vines—rootless, severed from the earth, spectral above a scene of immense yet circumscribed desolation filled with the voice of the waste and mournful water,” (141-2, Vintage International).

Now, my mind swirls when I read this passage because there is so much within it; I don’t know where to start. I knew for sure that these paragraphs were special, that they had impacted me, but I didn’t know exactly why. A wondrous anticipation underlies Darl’s words—a respectful fear regarding the river’s power. He thinks the surface appears “monstrously,” and imagines “something huge and alive” lives “just beneath the surface,” like an animal, “like a driven horse.” Basically, no one should trifle with such an “impermanent” and “ceaseless” force. While reading this portion of the novel, though, I found Faulkner’s sentence structure and rhythm to be beautifully intoxicating, almost hypnotic. The sentences are drawn out, and alliterative phrases like “Above the ceaseless surface they stand” exist so naturally and sound so pretty (poetic), even if what he’s referring to may be haunting and terribly dangerous. Faulkner seems to take his time expressing Darl’s awe and concern, too, slowing down the natural force while at the same time building up and creating its impressive strength. Pretty suspenseful stuff. I guess you could say it’s like a slow motion sequence in an epic film, like during a battle scene in one of the Lord of the Rings movies, or in Gladiator, or something. The resulting effect is hugely dramatic, but I think in a good way because it emphasizes that what we are taking in is important. It’s a signifier that we need to especially focus on this part because it’ll give us some insight to the work as a whole, to one of its themes.

Okay, so the river and its personification is frightening because of its might and unpredictability (after all, it’s a natural force that humans cannot completely control), but is also magnificent. For me, the “thick dark current” is a way of conceptualizing life and death and our experience with them (I know this is kinda heavy to get into, and there’s a tendency to get all dark and depressed, but I think exploring death actually makes it less scary…or maybe that’s just me…anyway! Ultimately, it’s a reality that we have to deal with, so I guess I’m trying to make the most of it): I mean, death is everywhere in this book: As I Lay Dying?? They are transporting the body of their dead mother and wife, so yah. The description of the river current, then, just reminds us that live beings and things die everyday, that death is always a possibility since one is alive. It’s a natural reality that is “ceaseless” and always there, lurking just beneath the surface. But, the concept of death cannot be separated from life, for obviously, one must be alive in order to die. So, though the river has the power to be destructive, it vibrantly exists; its presence is strongly felt, just like Addie’s presence is strongly felt throughout the whole of the text, even though she is dead. Her family remains affected by her life regardless of her death.

And this thought makes me think that Faulkner is highlighting how attached our present and future lives are to our past, even if the past has already occurred, and seems to be long gone. For the characters in the novel, Addie being alive is a part of their past, yet her life and death determine the family’s present actions, which will in turn affect their future ones. Everything and everyone is “ceaseless,” then, existing without the limits of time, in one form or another. I guess these concepts reveal an aspect of why I find southerners so alluring: they seem to really identify with their past, with their history and legacy, and take an immense amount of pride in them, and in tradition. I’m not saying this is good or bad; I just think their strong connection with their past—with the formation of their selves, and their presence of mind to recognize how meaningful one’s cultural history is—creates an otherworldliness I find intriguing, a sort of face-to-face confrontation with the journey of time, or with things/people/concepts that are long-gone.

And though As I Lay Dying is a difficult book that deals with intense issues and relationships, it has created some comfort for me. On one level, I’m reminded that my loved ones who have passed away aren’t completely and utterly gone. Their beings live on through the people they have touched, and the thoughts they have sparked. Even though they have died, their lives have a “ceaseless” impact that time cannot crush. On another level, Faulkner’s emphasis on our connection to the past makes me cherish my own past a bit more. More often than not, I overanalyze the decisions I’ve made, concluding that they could have been a little wiser. This text is a good reminder that my past has helped shaped who I am today; within it lie tools and experiences that I can learn from to better my present and future state. All of this relieves some anxiety, and creates more comfort in my life.

Shelley

In the beginning were our words...of introduction.

In an era where tweets, texts, and TV are the preferred media, we of “Thrice Booked” will remain forever in love with books.

While attending graduate school in Northern California, the three of us realized we shared this love for literature—a deep excitement for words and story that easily qualifies us as nerds, er, English scholars. Reading was clearly our thing, but discussing them together was even better; it was really, really awesome. We ended up learning not only from the texts and grad school but (even more importantly) also from each other during our impromptu salons, our comprehensive exam study sessions, and our struggles with countless essays. Doing so happened naturally because of the respect we all held for each others’ varying viewpoints and interests; Milton and Steinbeck commonly were referenced in the same conversation without a roll of the eye, a smirk, or vibrations of canonical disgust. Unsurprisingly, then, we became friends in addition to classmates because we thought reading and analyzing books was meaningful and, yes, fun.

One can imagine our disappointment once we graduated, and our regular discussions became not so regular. Well, no matter; we knew that leaving academia would change our relationships, so we had prepared ourselves for a smooth transition. We would of course keep in touch as time elapsed, even if it meant less frequent philosophizing over happy hours at the local college pub, and more phone calls or facebook chats. After all, doctorate programs, teaching positions, and groundbreaking writing jobs anxiously awaited us; our lives were going to be fulfilled, but in a different way. Such progress and change was the whole point of grad school, right? And we couldn’t wait to share our stimulating experiences with each other, even if it was less often than we would have liked.

But alas, a year later, the jaws of transition still grip our lives. Like most Americans, the economy has had an enormous impact on our current and future state; we must now patiently wait to earn a PhD, or attain that elusive college/university instructor position. So, instead of solely waiting for others to give us the go-ahead to live our lives the way we had always envisioned to, we are taking matters into our own hands. We of “Thrice Booked” are determined to create and continue our own literary conversations, only this time, we want to put it out into the wild world of the internets, and share it with you, mostly because we think doing so is essential for the hearts and minds of academically inclined souls.

We hope the discussions we found so valuable will also offer you some sort of joy and/or meaning! One Sunday a month we will be have a roundtable (well, “roundblog”) discussion on a book of our choice, but for the rest of our entries, we’re providing a free forum for anything and everything relating to books, teaching, and the creative process.

As a hint for our first “book club” selection…Bon Appetit and Welcome to “Thrice Booked!”