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.
Even for an anthology, the structure feels deliberate. After 16 stories, it has become clear that while very few of these tales interlock directly, they all share a subtext for the next piece. Over the course of the “Village” section, Faulkner has found ways to deconstruct community while finding the small ways that they’re all unified. Everyone in Jefferson has been enamored in some way with the past, and their stories have centered around legacy with such iconography as statues (“Centaur in Brass”), names (“Elly”), and even greed (“That Will Be Fine”). Even if most address misogyny and racism, they’re all different enough that at worst they’re just redundant. The reader has a great sense of Jefferson that one has to ask: what is the final statement on the “Village”?
While nothing has yet to match the sublime nature of “A Rose for Emily,” there is something to be said for the achievements in “That Evening Sun.” It is among the darkest that Faulkner has written so far, where a central character’s suicide reflects the negligence of the community yet again. However, where most stories emphasize this from an Anglo-Saxon standpoint, there are interesting layers that separate the narrator from the subject. A laundress named Nancy is fearful of the return of her husband Jesus who could threaten her already unstable living conditions. Given that she’s pregnant potentially with Mr. Stovall’s baby and had her teeth knocked out, there are plenty of discomforts intentionally baked into the story. Whereas “Dry September” glances at racial violence from a distance, this one feels more direct and, in the process, serves as the perfect goodbye to a section plagued with a southern tradition trying to justify its awfulness without accepting the need for change.
The most interesting trope that this story plays into is Faulkner’s love of women as a generational gatekeeper. In every instance, he places subtext on how fertility is a precious commodity that men must use to hold onto past ideals. If they can brainwash the next generation, there will be no need to change. Nancy is a bit of an odd duck in this tradition because she is a Black woman who is already in a compromised position. Given how many racist characters exist with motives to push their dominance, Nancy appears to be a threat. If she has a child, it encourages the potential for her community to eventually form equal acceptance in Jefferson. Given that the narrator, Quentin Compson, has almost no ties to Nancy’s personal life, it makes the whole experience much more staggering.
The opening paragraphs would suggest that Nancy is a respected figure. Every week a laundress picks up dirty clothes to wash, and that is that. One would argue that they live a humble existence with a very mundane career, and yet Faulkner slowly twists the knife a little bit. Before the 20 pages progress too much, the topic shifts to a different kind of dirty laundry. Compson somehow has an active knowledge of her marriage to Jesus: a man with a scar on his face suggesting he's a violent character. The abuse is so apparent that while he’s only in one scene, the reader lives in the looming fear that he will return to potentially harm Nancy even more. After all, she is carrying Mr. Stovall’s baby. As a white man, the mixed-breed could symbolize a connection between the two communities that in itself has been argued against for most of the “Village” section. On top of that, what man would want to take responsibility for another man’s child?
Jesus is a great character because he symbolizes the stereotype that Faulkner has been writing about this entire time. The white man is consistently in fear of the violent, angry Black man who corrupts the order of society. Faulkner’s work predominantly strays from any suggestion of this archetype. What is there instead are two groups struggling to get along, to have a literal black and white version of Jefferson? Whereas the author has mostly used this from the white perspective, Nancy reflects how it harms her community as well. The name also has the ironic moniker of being a religious savior when he’s closer to satanic. The idea of the second coming of Jesus is feared, where judgment is likely to end in the attack. Also, the absence of Jesus makes it sound like there’s no comfort through religion in Nancy’s life currently, where she has nobody to pray to for safety. There are references to God, but even that won’t be enough. It may be coincidental as a closer read of Jesus the messiah to Jesus in “That Evening Sun” proves too complicated, but it does connect world views that have been present throughout “Collected Stories” and the warped perception of religion as a safety net.
One of the more curious things that are featured in Nancy’s arc is the use of suicide. Early on she is seen hanging from her dress. While she is revived, the idea of her death lingers over the remaining pages. Given that she claims to be a “hell child,” there’s something nihilistic about her that exists opposite of The Compson Family. Even as they observe her behavior and try to make her feel accepted, she is rattled by the abuse she has taken. The reader is more than likely to assume that the story ends in a fatality. So much of the story exists around a ticking clock that dread fits into the most mundane conversation, leaving one to wonder when Nancy will snap. Jesus hasn’t exactly shown up, but in her mind, he hasn’t left. The idea that he’ll be there any minute haunts her. The only way out is death.
Another thing that I appreciate about the story is how it differs from the other stories. Whereas most of the previous entries have centered around observation, there are a lot of moments here driven by conversation. There’s Quentin’s children Jason and Caddy having their own squabbles, reflecting a disconnect from Nancy’s struggle. They are too innocent. Much like Georgie in "That Will Be Fine," they are a clean slate so that their racism isn’t so much ingrained as it is captured through osmosis. Given that Quentin shows compassion to Nancy, there’s reason to believe that he symbolizes the more progressive thinking, the desire to break free of the abusive past and find something more compassionate to live with. Whereas Georgie may be doomed to a life of prejudice, Jason and Caddy are childish and calling each other “scairy cats’ while daring each other to silly games. Moving forward, the white family will be fine. What about Nancy, though?
Faulkner leaves her fate with small ambiguity. The easy read is that she committed suicide, which would prevent her from facing Jesus’ harm if he ever showed up. If she were to live, she’d be another injured laundress who was running out of ways to impact the community. Even then, the choice to end by having The Compson Family comment on who will clean their clothes does suggest the difference between them. They are codependent on her labor, and the ways that she makes their life more convenient. It’s the only thing that matters to them. Everything about her suffering may be awful, but her contributions to society outweigh her humanity. While Quentin has some remorse, it’s still buried underneath childish racism. As tragic as a suicidal read may have over the whole tale, it does reflect an unwillingness to address the complicated nature of life, where Faulkner can’t even mention if her “unsinging” is reflective of death or another form of talking.
What is this saying about the larger vision of the “Village” chapters? As a closing thesis, it’s reflective of how difficult it is for white citizens to fully remove their obsession with the past. They want to impregnate women to birth a person in their image. They want to hold onto something that is fading away, even if it will bring about abuse and death. There’s no love for the Black community and their struggles often go overlooked in Faulkner’s work. This is the closest so far that he’s come to sympathetic, and it’s still something that’s borderline nihilistic. Nancy attempts suicide, which in the process also recognizes that there’s more stories that could be told in Jefferson. It’s just that Faulkner as a white man doesn’t have that perspective. He has great remorse for others but notices how everything inevitably cycles back to the way it always was.
This is also the densest connection to Yoknapatawpha County’s greater universe that has been covered in “Collected Stories” so far. Almost every character has some tie to another work. The narrator Quentin Compson especially is a prominent figure in other works, including “A Bear Hunt” as well as “Absalom, Absalom!” and “The Sound and the Fury.” It has been noted that Quentin’s timeline is a bit blurry as he was considered dead in other stories by the time that “That Evening Sun” was published. With that said, Faulkner has long been inconsistent with his characters and this shouldn’t be seen as some greater commentary. However, it should be noted that his connection to Nancy runs through several stories as they have been friends since he was nine. While her death is referenced through Quentin’s prism in other works, she shows up in another story called “Requiem for a Nun” alongside Mr. Stovall.
From here the story has had a lengthy history that rates among the more complicated of Faulkner’s publications. “That Evening Sun” was originally named “That Evening Sun Go Down,” whose title was based on a song composed by W.C. Handy in 1914 and popularized by Bessie Smith and Louis Armstrong in 1927. “That Evening Sun” was published in March 1931 in American Mercury. There are four known versions of the story including a six-page early draft (circa 1927-1929) titled “Never Done No Weeping When You Wanted to Laugh). There was also the typescript that Faulkner sent to H.L. Mencken for editing and revision and published under the title “That Evening Sun Go Down.” A later revision would appear in “These 13” in 1931 and the one considered for final form appeared in “Collected Stories.” The title is also considered to be a reference to Revelation 20, which uses comparisons to the evening sun that suggest death and judgment. Also, in a 1964 essay titled “A Salute to Whit Burnett,” J.D. Salinger writes about how the story influenced him while at Columbia University and taught him the importance of the author’s relationship with a silent reader.
After 10 stories, Faulkner ends the “Village” section with one of the darkest and most cryptic stories imaginable. Given that it opened with one of his most speculative, it only feels right that a story about why we should hold onto the past feel as ambiguous and confusing, at times distant from the reader. Even if it’s full of sympathy, it’s difficult to appreciate Nancy outside of just listening to her and trying to understand where she has come from. Jefferson has been a hostile town full of violence and misunderstanding. Even if hers isn’t conventional to what’s come before, it's a byproduct of what’s been seen. The fact that it ends with kids brushing off her potential death reflects how some ignore the seriousness of matters, refusing to solve anything even under the best of intentions. It’s another showstopper and a perfect summary of what the author achieved with this section of the prose.
Coming Up Next: "Red Leaves"
Comments
Post a Comment