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.
When writing about “Elly,” there was a recognition of how tedious certain tropes had become after only a dozen entries. The struggle to hold onto the past while attempting to forge a new trail is an invaluable perspective to have, but at a certain point, Faulkner was treading too much familiar territory. The “Village” section has some of his best work, but it’s also the clearest evidence of who he is as a writer, and how the white male relates to both women and Black individuals in Jefferson County. I love how expansive this section is, if just for how it creates an understanding around symbolic American history. With that said, I would love to see more stories in line with “Uncle Willy” which may have a lot of the familiar trappings, but deviates enough to create one of the most comic stories covered so far.
The opening paragraph is an infectious web of mystery where an unnamed narrator presents the story from an auspicious starting point. He KNOWS what people have been saying. The idea of a character being “killed” makes one think that this will fall more in line with a conventional murder mystery, though nobody could be sure how or why. Before the reader knows about Uncle Willy’s druggist profession, they know that there’s some rooted guilt and judgment at play, where the narrator is at odds with other unnamed characters in Jefferson. Given that there have only been two significant deaths in “Collected Stories” so far (“A Rose for Emily,” “Dry September”), one would think that this is again tied to racism or some affection for the past. While it’s true that there’s something outdated about Willy, he is something much more comic and strange. He isn’t so much someone whose death is a grand tragedy, but the ending of a series of failures.
Before getting to that, there needs to be some context. “Uncle Willy” Christian is a second generation owner of a drugstore. His father appeared to have a better time running the business, though Willy's success is very contentious. Despite the moniker, he isn’t anyone’s uncle nor are the many young men who work for him an adopted family. It is said that he uses them to help inject opium and steal alcohol, leading to wild allegations about his ethics as a business owner. At his side is Job, whose indentured servitude goes back to his father though there’s little to suggest animosity between the two. Willy is an easygoing man who has enjoyed life even if, at 60, he doesn’t appear to be letting age slow him down.
Is that why Jefferson County doesn’t care for him? One could argue that this is just another way that Faulkner is depicting the past trying to manipulate the future. Even if that’s so, Willy is a figure who exists in ambiguity, among the most foolishly crafted for the page yet. By the end, he has married a prostitute and been institutionalized for alcoholism. He even escapes via plane with the narrator and Job at one point with the hopes of making it to California. There is excitement to everything he does because he comes across as a wacky, senile old man who never felt restricted. He may be out of time, but unlike almost every other character, he’s unashamed to take risks and overlooks other people’s criticism. He is genuinely a fun character.
So many of Faulkner’s stories are rooted in tragedy that it’s a relief to see “Uncle Willy” turn into a dark comedy. Yes, there is concern over how he died, but it’s not nearly the tragedy that the reader will assume from that defensive opening paragraph. This flashback tale that spans many years is about a man who arguably wanted to live fast and die young. Given that he was a druggist, there’s some fun irony that the man that is supposed to cure the ails of Jefferson is actually one of the sickest. Even then, his access to ailments has the opposite impact, making this also a pseudo-stoner/drunk comedy inside of an enjoyable road comedy.
So what is “Uncle Willy” symbolically saying about the south? The story takes place during The Great Depression and, much like “The Tall Men,” has a small emphasis on Roosevelt's politics and programs created to help the working man. Willy is against Democrats, Republicans, and their XYZ’s. Even if there’s no direct reference beyond this, it could be the suggestion of a stable economy falling apart, or that The Christian Family business couldn’t last two generations. It's another example of how small intergenerational dynamics can still cause conflicts. Like “Elly” with the central name, the need to hold onto the business is a tie to the past that provides a legacy. It's something that cannot be rebuilt meaning one has to work hard enough to maintain progress. Given that The Great Depression upset a lot of these trends, it makes sense that Willy is a fallen “hero.” The kids are too innocent to notice why he’s a failure, choosing instead to see his generosity as something to mock. Maybe they will hold onto the south’s legacy, or just notice it as the ramblings of a kook.
According to The Digital Yoknapatawpha Project, Job isn’t so much a symbol of slavery but something more complacent. As a resident of Jefferson, Job is a figure who represents an unwillingness to change their ways. He doesn’t create conflict and is fairly docile out of the occasional cry of concern for Willy’s safety. There is the chance for him to continually walk away and yet he doesn’t. If one was to apply a religious subtext to things, Job works for The Christian Family. Job in the bible had everything taken from him and tested by God through harsh trials and tribulations to prove his devotion. It would be sacrilegious to think of Uncle Willy as a messiah (especially since he barely speaks intelligible English), but it does suggest some devotion mixed with subtext that, from Job’s perspective, this is all one big disaster to prove his faith.
Once again, Faulkner poses women at odds with men who live in their delusions. The one difference is that this time he doesn’t use fertility as some greater commentary. It can be argued that the closest he comes to this involves marrying a prostitute, but it’s tangential to other greater problems. Willy is somebody who society wants to cure but can never seem to reach a satisfying conclusion. There has to be a way to make him normal, and yet every hurdle reflects one greater truth. This isn’t a tale of triumph but one that exists almost exclusively to see how a man ready to die keeps failing. As the narrator continually points out, maybe this chapter will be the one where he dies. There’s almost an optimism to it, where the journey grows in grandeur, and eventually what starts as a minimalist tragedy turns into a maximalist circus.
For the first time since “Death Drag,” Faulkner shares his love of aviation and finds them going on a journey. Unlike that story, this ends much differently and with enough ambiguity to wonder if his death was an accident or the end of a long, painful ordeal. Much like how Jefferson sees him, the audience may differ on how they see the narrator. Is he a murderer who enabled this mentally vulnerable man to spiral out of control? Whatever it may be, there’s a level of satire here that takes the morbid concepts and makes them more recognizable as fiction than painful reality. Uncle Willy was a man out of time, where to live felt like its own type of punishment. If nothing else, he died doing what he loved without regret – which is much more true than something like “A Rose for Emily.”
The history of “Uncle Willy” is an interesting one. According to The Digital Yoknapatawpha Project, the protagonist was inspired by the life and death of a real life Oxford druggist. Faulkner wrote the story around 1935 when he was in desperate need of money, suggesting “Good God yes, let them have the story and do anything they want with it, just so I get the money soon as possible… I am writing two stories a week now. I don’t know how long I can keep it up.” The story was also written somewhere between the novels “Pylon” and “Absalom, Absalom!” The story was published in the October 1935 issue of American Mercury. While other stories that Faulkner wrote strictly for money have an inferior quality, he admits to liking “Uncle Willy.” It should be noted that while this story does a great job of compacting one of the most unique works so far, this isn’t the last time that the tale of Uncle Willy will be featured in the author’s greater work.
For starters, the character of Darl Bundren makes an appearance in “As I Lay Dying” when mentioning “the asylum at Jackson.” Likewise, the legacy of Willy would be covered again in the novels “The Mansion,” The Reivers” and “The Town.” Even the exploits around his aloof behavior would become substantial subtext. Among the more curious things is that while this ties to the greater realm of Faulkner’s fiction, The Christian Family doesn’t have a prominence in the greater canon quite like The Snopes or The Sartoris Families. The two generations referenced here are pretty much the extent. Based on the context, it is believed that The Christian Family is of middle class background, serving a minor yet essential role to Jefferson.
While “Uncle Willy” has some of the more meandering chapters so far, it is among the most entertaining. Not since “A Bear Hunt” has Faulkner written a story that feels as lively with suspense and comedy, forcing the reader to question the tone of the piece. It’s also a relief to have a protagonist who is more directly tied to Civil War Era ways of thinking that aren’t rooted in racism or misogyny. He’s a figure that shows something more complicated, reflecting how the south isn’t one way of thinking. If anything, it’s a community with its own host of problems in need of repair. But how do you cure that which is supposed to cure? How do you save one’s life if they so eagerly want to die? The answer is complicated and it’s maybe the most ambiguous ending the writer has crafted, but it only adds to the satisfying perplexity that he’s created.
Coming Up Next: “Mule in the Yard”
Comments
Post a Comment