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 journey into “The Village” started with one of the writer’s most renowned works in his entire career. “A Rose for Emily” remains a story that has a limitless number of ways to unpack and try to understand whether Emily Grierson is a tragic or stubborn figure who holds onto an old way of living. It’s the type of work that is easy to get lost in, where even the final description comes as a surprise that demands one to reread everything that just came before. As a member of Jefferson County, she set the stage for how this anthology will paint everyone else. It’s safe to say that they’re all judgmental, prying in on perspectives that are a tad removed from convenience. The same can be true of the next entry, “Hair,” which finds Faulkner once again diving into the realm of speculation and not really having a strong answer of what’s going on.
Once again, the narrator is somebody unknown save their residence. They live close enough to have known the protagonist in passing but not on any more personal level. This follows suit in the mystery camp, finding curiosity emerging from the unlikeliest of corners. Who is Susan Reed and why is Henry “Hawkshaw” Stribling so obsessed with her? Discomfort arises as the search for answers gets mixed in with era politics that in generous terms are far removed from conventional niceties. This isn’t to suggest that Faulkner was condoning the romance of two severely age gapped characters, but it’s the type of chemistry that seems striking when placed alongside Emily Grierson and Homer Barron. There’s never a sense of balance between them and there’s maybe manipulation, but there’s also enough doubt that could suggest that nothing mischievous happened.
Meanwhile, “Hair” has so many red flags almost immediately that ties into the mystery element. Susan Reed never speaks a line throughout the prose. She starts the story as a nine year old who comes across a need to cut her hair, described as not quite blonde nor quite brunette. The style is meant to help her stand out, making her eventual acceptance of this cross-colored hair somehow deviance from society. She accepts haircuts, but it becomes clear that she only wants them from Hawkshaw. He was nicknamed that largely because of his unknown origins prior to arriving in Jefferson with only detective work being a signifier of some greater life. Then again, why would he want to be a barber of all things? Then again, why do they form such a close connection?
One suggestion is the involvement of Sophie Starnes. At another time he was her fiancé before tragically dying. When she did, he would cut all of her hair and do maintenance on her home. It was a strange way of grieving, but nothing that was totally out of the ordinary. And yet, there was something about Susan that connected with him. It can be found in the details that make her more alluring. The gaze grows stronger as aspects of her come into focus. The eventual bloom into adulthood creates more conflicts as she forms her own sexual agency. There is so much that makes her seem different from everybody else, but again… what does Hawkshaw see in all of this?
An important thing to consider is not that he married the underaged girl, but that he waited patiently. As a virtue, it is admirable to have. He waited those years in near celibacy waiting for Susan to be a legal adult. Given that grooming is a concept that can apply to beauticians and predators. Of course, one is more of a literal hygiene and care practice, but that doesn’t stop the idea from speculation. Did Hawkshaw brainwash the girl into loving him, believing that he had all of her solutions? Maybe there is some connection to Sophie’s death, whether causing a freak snap of judgment and regressing to infantile logic or a need to play protector to someone significantly younger.
So much is hidden from the reader as the story progresses. Nobody is entirely sure what anyone’s motives are for most of the story, and yet there are enough context clues to suggest that it’s something unpleasant. After all, Susan lives not with her parents, but with people who might be relatives, but not really. She is an orphan of sorts, wayward socially and in need of a figure who feels permanent. Maybe in Hawkshaw’s warped vision, he saw himself as a father. Then again, her sexual agency factoring into the story also implies that maybe the more alluring descriptions of her body are hiding more direct infatuation in plain sight. It’s hard to really say.
In both of “The Village” stories so far, gossip is what drives the story. For all that is known, nothing shocking actually happened. The outside world has no answer for what actually occurred. Speculation may fill in gaps, but Faulkner could also be misdirecting and even challenging notions. “Hair” just seems to be more direct in seediness because of the age gap and how details are written. Even then, it’s a suggestion that Jefferson is not an innocent town. There’s a lot of foul behavior at play here, and it’s important to recognize that everyone is capable of being a sinner and a saint in this town, where to lay an ear to gossip risks being complicit.
It is again the conflict of an older generation manipulating the younger one. Hawkshaw’s skill at cutting hair is appealing to Susan and provides an entryway to whatever grieving logic he comes up with. Maybe like Emily’s father, Hawkshaw is someone who uses emotional abuse to lay out his plan, capturing the future and attempting to keep away any sign of maturity. He may be following certain guidelines around marriage, but there’s still the reality that something is holding the past together. If she rejects him, his way of living is threatening to disappear. He couldn’t stand to die without some legacy.
On the one hand, it is difficult for anything, even by Faulkner, to follow up “A Rose for Emily” and expect to have as warm of a reception. “Hair” is definitely one of the weaker entries of “Collected Stories” so far, if just for how much it relies on dated ideals. It’s also not as narratively clever as anything that’s come before, mostly relying on secondhand gossip from a traveling salesman to piece together a tale. It does have a lot of entertainment value and is briskly paced, but overall the story isn’t shocking or revelatory enough. At most, it’s alarming to think of how the youth can be corrupted and regress, which is definitely a topic worthy of discussion. It isn’t to say that Faulkner’s writing lacks cohesion. It’s just not as interesting as what he’s capable of.
The story’s history is just as interesting because it’s another example of a second-tier story slowly making its way to its final form. With plenty of rewrites and several rejections, “Hair” took many forms before landing in American Mercury Magazine during May 1931. There would be a revised version in his first volume of short stories “These Thirteen” in 1931. The cited one for this article would be revised again in 1950 and whose parallels to “A Rose for Emily” feel very intentional in the same ways that “Barn Burning” and “Shingles for the Lord” feel like funhouse mirror images of each other.
As per usual, “Hair” is a story that cannot exist on its own. Besides the familiar connections of Jefferson and Yoknapatawpha County, Susan Reed is one of many characters who has been seen elsewhere. Along with Mr. and Mrs. Burchett, they appear in an early Faulkner work called “Moonlight” that remained unpublished until “Uncollected Stories” in 1979. Hawkshaw also appears in “Dry September” as a central figure. Many of the narrative themes and detective speculation could also be seen in his novel “Absalom, Absalom!” Susan is also said to be part of a handful of promiscuous female characters whose sexuality is heavily emphasized. Even then, “Hair” has an alarming approach to that theme that may take many aback.
According to speculation based on language choices, many believe that the events of the story take place somewhere around 1918. This is found in lines like “thirteen years ago” and “twelve years he stayed” which put into context contemporary events along with Susan’s age and behavior. It is never outright said what the date is and some have suggested that Faulkner even was conceiving of an earlier date. Still, like the text itself the full context remains a mystery that is fun to uncover, especially for those who have a knowledgeable connection to biblical references which in themselves add a fun subtext of purity and gossip to a scandalous text.
As a whole, “Hair” is another curious tale that winds with the cryptic prose readers have come to appreciate. While it’s not the most enduring tale in this collection, it is one whose descriptive nature allows the mind to wander, finding meaning where there might be none at all. For what it’s worth, he has a gift of making Jefferson seem shadier just by choosing an effective perspective. There is knowledge about everyone but who is telling the story, which in itself may hide bias or outright lies. What is truth and how is it being represented? For what it’s worth, nobody in this town has yet to come across completely perfect. Maybe that’s how it will always be.
Coming Up Next: “Centaur in Brass”
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