Tag Archives: Faulkner

Okay, I made that up, but it seems that this is what Faulkner is doing as he builds the character base and the importance of the automobile to plot. It brings to mind making tapioca, or more particularly, jelly or … Continue reading → Continue reading →

But Miss Reba was still fighting. Because women are wonderful. They can bear anything because they are wise enough to know that all you have to do with grief and trouble is just go on through them and come out … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Interesting, as Faulkner gives voice via his narrator into a manner of labeling generically the political positions of his own time by describing the whorehouse's master (or pimp): Minnie was still bringing things, all cold–fried chicken and biscuits and vegetables … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Picking up some speed here with the reading; hate to say it, but the first 80 pages were duller than matte paint. There was something dreamlike about it. Not nightmarish: just dreamlike–the peaceful, quiet, remote, sylvan, almost primeval setting of … Continue reading → Continue reading →

One of the first things I noticed about Cormac McCarthy's writing style was a propensity to double up on words and phrases that emphasized the meaning. For example, something like "the sun was hot, was hot, and was hot," which … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Slow. Ploddingly so. I am missing something here, I'm sure, but I'm about to miss more as I plan to scan-read through some of this to find something that holds me to Faulkner's story. Yes, I am ashamed of myself; … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Faulkner has taken a heck of a lot of time to give us an environment with a couple of characters and an adventure about to begin. At this point, those who like action and fast paced reading might have continued … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Fifty pages in, yet I do not feel the Faulkner magic, the connection with the characters and the place. It makes me wonder if mood is relative, if perhaps reality must be left behind to become totally absorbed with his … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Not nuts about the first twenty pages of this and I do hope it gets better as it moves deeper into the story. Right now, there's a basic plot, a bit of action to drive it, and a truckload of … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Your typical backwoods family: Anse, hardworking, toothless, faithful, semi-useless; Addie, his wife, very hardworking, resentful, cheated on her husband, dead at an early age; Cash, their oldest son, focused, determined, honest; son Darl, intelligent, watchful, non-risk-taking, strange, arsonist; son Jewel … Continue reading → Continue reading →

We knew the river was rising, the rains swelling it to wash out the bridges, and the Bundren’s are in trouble crossing with the wagon loaded with Addie in her coffin.  Two things detracted from the drama of the moment … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Though I’m not sure I agree with the language and thought patterns that Faulkner assigns his characters, I do again see his dedication to understanding the passage of time in other than our own decided measured out format.  Here Darl, … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Man, after this novel if I don’t get it right I’ll give up.  (I’ve just gotten used to good and well.)  Addie, for eighty pages, has been lying in her bed, and now in her coffin, where they laid her. … Continue reading → Continue reading →

Faulkner obviously loved to play with the question of time and space, effectively seen in The Sound and the Fury.  But I love this passage in As I Lay Dying, where Addie’s youngest boy, Vardaman, runs from the room just … Continue reading → Continue reading →