This past December, I went to Barnes & Noble and bought a handful of books. Among them was a William Faulkner anthology called “Collected Stories.” I have personally been a fan of the author since I read “As I Lay Dying” in my early 20s and found the potential for literature cracking open. Given the girth of the volume, I knew it would be intimidating to just read the 42 short stories front to back, so instead, I’ve decided to take my time. In doing so, I plan to cover one a week until completed. I will be using this space to share my opinions of each piece as well as any stray observations I may have picked up from the greater world of Faulkner mania.
The first story is one that I’ve heard of. As an English major, I have a handful of Norton Anthologies that feature “Barn Burning” alongside “A Rose for Emily.” The latter tends to get more recognition (and with good reason), but I never got around to reading the former. It was a curious name for a story, inspiring me to wonder what was so special about a barn burning. It was vivid, drawing you in. Before I ever picked up “Collected Stories” and found it as the opening chapter (under the section “The Country”), I had my own version of the story. I’ve read Faulkner. I could assume what he would go for.
Lo and behold, this is a story that is bookended by two barn burnings. While we never get insight into the first, the second more than informs the motivation behind the first. The story follows The Snopes Family as they must deal with one unfortunate fact. The father Abner is deemed an outcast after being blamed for burning down a barn. He is nothing but a day laborer, taking odd jobs as he travels around the country. His son Colonel Sartoris (a.k.a. Sarty) is the protagonist recounting the ways that his father is bullied by society while Abner also manipulates him, forced into shady operations.
The Snopes survive. That’s all they can do. They are a poor family with barely enough supplies to live day to day. Early on Faulkner introduces subtext in their diet, including cheese. There is imbalance already in the self as the family is working beyond their means both financially and even physically. They don’t think rationally when they have to eat food with limited nutrition. As they wander around in a modest wagon, they see townspeople with stability and even wealthy homes. There’s this vibrant culture that they’ll never afford, and they quickly become enemies of the state.
Upon tracking horse manure into a home, Abner is requested to clean a rug and does a lousy job. As a result, he has to sacrifice either his income (which is proven unaffordable) or crops, bushels of corn that again represent health and good nature being offered to wealthier clients. Still, the rug becomes a great conflict, serving as a scapegoat for any greater conflict. Given that there’s also the presence of Black characters as slaves, Faulkner briefly introduces the idea that while The Snopes are in dire straits, there’s room for them to be worse off. Had they been slaves, there’s a good chance that they would be lynched instead of run out of town.
Abner’s exhaustion leads him to burn down the barn, letting out his frustration in destructive ways. After all, the wealthy have done nothing but tear away at his foundation. He doesn’t have a healthy diet, nor does he have any security. All he has is a family that he struggles to take care of. There’s resentment in there as he deals with Sarty, doing everything he can to raise him as a better son. But there’s no hope for them. Burning the barn is his way of leveling the playing field, allowing a class that will easily rebuild it and blame Abner for it. There’s no fixing his reputation, so what does he have to lose?
The story is a tragedy that perfectly reflects Faulkner’s gift as an author. On the surface, the story is straightforward: arsonist burns barns. If one was to stop at the surface level, this may be an unsatisfying story. Why would anyone care that much about a rug? However, it’s in Faulkner’s ability to create an expansive understanding of the world that elevates it into something more haunting and timeless. These are by no means his most memorable characters nor is this his greatest work, but The Snopes embody Faulkner’s sympathy for socioeconomic themes of “The South.” It’s a story about how a country felt disconnected from itself following The Civil War not only on personal politics but on economics and the ability to provide opportunity for everyone.
Abner is supposedly a war hero, having served under Colonel Sartoris – of whom he named his son after. He should be adorned with medals and seen as someone to respect. He rode with The Cavalry. He sacrificed so much, and yet he still remains poor and miserable. Nobody cares about him. It’s unclear how he got into his position, but it’s a decaying cycle where every day feels worse than before. There’s no chance to “build a home” because he couldn’t afford it. He works off the land and pleases his masters who in return get mad over dirty rugs. When that is the biggest problem that you have, then it’s clear how much disparity there is.
At times this felt reminiscent of John Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men,” taking a chance to dive into uncomfortable themes of the lower class. The biggest difference is that Abner never actually is seen working, instead falling into conflict with his employer over trivial issues. There’s more time dedicated to negotiating punishment than to show how the work will be transactional. There’s no certainty that Abner will even come away with an income. It makes sense that Sarty is resented, if just because Abner likely feels guilt that he has to put his son through a similar fate, having known how difficult the decades ahead will be. Why would he want anyone to perpetuate this pattern? At the same time, there is a need for Sarty to remain complicit, to protect what little integrity Abner has because if he doesn’t even have that, he’ll be the “barn burner” and never work again.
It’s one of those complicated tales that rewards deeper thought. Faulkner immerses the reader by dropping details in a precise fashion, allowing them to have a subliminal connection to the characters. The first image is one of burning cheese, which smells awful. The second is a drug store, where The Snopes are on trial, surrounded by people buying. The idea of consumerism surrounds them, impersonal items on shelves waiting to be bought by people who can afford them. There is despair, a sense of rejection for The Snopes. For the reader, it is as much a chance to build mystery (why and who did it?) as well as determine how we want to judge this family.
Labeling someone as an arsonist is easy to hate. They do something that rejects social norms, and before we know much about The Snopes, they can easily be deemed unpleasant. This could be a story about living with antiheroes. In some respect, Abner remains that way even as Faulkner slowly applies logic that makes him have more of a complex heart. We understand why he’s abusive to his son, needing to maintain an image that hides his shame. It’s in some ways rooted in his insecurities, being bullied by the larger society for being poor and unable to afford a more fashionable lifestyle. Everyone’s being ugly to each other, where even Abner wants to blame nameless Black people for his crimes, the only one Faulkner deems lesser than him.
“Barn Burning” is not my favorite story of his, but one that definitely gives plenty to chew on. The ending has a predictability to it that the title gives away. It’s a straightforward story that mostly works because of how Faulkner uses symbolism, showing these many divides between social classes, family generations, and even man and the earth. There is a weariness to the story where every new development feels like another foot of dirt dug out of the grave. By the end, all that’s left is to throw Abner in the hole and move on with life. He’s seen as dirt on a rug, unpleasant and destroying fancy merchandise just by his presence.
As a reflection of the era, Faulkner captures a sense of purpose that is powerful. Much like Steinbeck with the west coast, Faulkner’s passion for the economics of the south reflects themes that were prevalent at the time. It was a time where society was trying to reconstruct itself, to form something greater while grappling with a past that was quickly becoming problematic. How were things ever going to be stable when there were so many rifts? Given that this takes place around 1895, the turn of the 20th century, there’s a sense of self-reflection on the past century and wondering how things would change going forward. For Faulkner, the answer was bleak.
It should be noted that for a story that hasn’t permeated the culture as well as “The Sound and the Fury,” it did inspire The Snopes Trilogy, or three novels that further explore these characters’ lives (“The Hamlet,” “The Town,” and “The Mansion”). I haven’t read them, but it’s clear that Faulkner had an interest in exploring them as some greater metaphor about social class and economics. “Barn Burning” and “The Hamlet” also inspired the Paul Newman film The Long Hot Summer (1958) which borrows from them as well as the novella “Spotted Horses.” While I didn’t have time to watch the film or read the additional material, there may be a chance that I visit it further down the line.
With that said, there was a TV version made for PBS, directed by Peter Werner. Barn Burning (1980) clocks in at 41 minutes and stars Tommy Lee Jones as Abner with Henry Fonda providing voice-over. To be completely honest, it’s a faithful adaptation that gets the significant plot points across without making it a necessarily interesting story. It has very slow pacing and at times the acting is ridged, though the dialogue is faithful to the text. Werner was well versed in book-to-film adaptations, having received an Oscar nomination for his version of Joyce Carol Oates’ short story “In the Region of Ice.” It does feel like this is also indicative of the fact that Faulkner’s introspection also doesn’t translate well to film sometimes, requiring more of an internal study of characters instead of a more conventional approach to cinema (making his screenwriting career at times amusing).
Another fun details about Barn Burning include a supporting role by Jimmy Faulkner as Major DeSpain. The name is more than a coincidence. Jimmy is William’s nephew, adding a fun little subtext to Werner’s adaptation. Also, Jimmy was against them making a statue of Faulkner in Alderman, MI believing that they needed his input on how it should be resurrected. The Oxford Board heard him out, but they went and did it anyway. He also liked flying planes and claims that his uncle went to see Gone With the Wind (1939) seven times when it was released.
While not an adaptation, Lee Chang-dong’s Burning (2018) is a film that features the prominent use of barn burning. It is based on a story of the same name by Haruki Murakami as well as inspired by Faulkner’s original text. As far as subtext goes, there’s plenty of fun overlap between Chang-dong and Faulkner’s intent behind the acts.
“Barn Burning” is a fun way to start this new series, if just for how much it allows me to explore not only the meaning and allegories but its greater cultural history. I am one of those who believes that Faulkner is one of the greatest authors of the 20th century, and I realize that’s mostly based off of two novels. I need to expand my awareness of his work, to better appreciate what he did with the written form. What’s impressive is that even for a story where seemingly nothing happens but barns burning, he packs it with so much history and depth that you begin to see what America looked like at the end of the 19th century. It was unpleasant if you were poor, struggling to survive. With a sympathetic eye, Faulkner makes for something greater in the common man. This isn’t a story of redemption. It’s a tragedy, and one that asks us to learn and find better ways to judge each other beyond their flaws.
Coming Up Next: “Shingles For the Lord"
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