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 through “The Wilderness” continues with the return of a few recognizable characters. There is, of course, Ikkemotubbe a.k.a. David Callicoat a.k.a. Doom from “Red Leaves,” but there is also an entire group of recognizable figures. While his name isn’t directly referenced, context clues of being related to Caddy and Jason Compson would suggest that the narrator is none other than Quentin. Having been recently seen in “That Evening Sun” and a central figure in the novels “The Sound and the Fury” and “Absalom! Absalom!,” it’s another connection between the wild and civilization through Faulkner’s gaze. As was the case before, this is a story about how the white man ultimately corrupted the identity of Native Americans and shaped the life of Doom. He is quintessentially a tragic figure when he’s not a perverse stereotype killing animals and seeking answers through violence. Much like the generations to follow, he is someone who has lost his way, though even then is tied enough to the past to potentially return to a former way of life.
Like most of these stories, the small connective tissue is ultimately the most appealing piece. Quentin was last seen listening to a Black woman question how she could escape her terrifying past before an alluded suicide. In “A Justice,” he is once again listening to someone’s story and trying to find a greater meaning to slavery and miscegenation. This time he is stuck with Sam Feathers, observing the situations from his perspective as he goes fishing with his siblings. What is gained from viewing it this way and not through Doom? Outside of the fact that Faulkner is a white man who has noticeable differences between him and certain characters, it’s just another way to comment on slavery. As someone who is addressing complicated manners in hopes of appealing to white audiences, it makes sense to reach them with obvious stand-ins. Compared to “Red Leaves,” “A Justice” is more conventional to what “Collected Stories” has featured so far, and it may be enough to connect with readers.
One thing that should be considered when reading “A Justice” is that even if this was written in close proximity to Doom’s inaugural outing, continuity is far from Faulkner’s mind. If one was to follow a strict timeline, certain events would play out slightly different. While it’s true that Doom has a significant scene involving a riverboat, other things may be difficult to really connect. As it stands, his racial identity only continues to get more complex as the years carry on and he makes further appearances. Speaking he is of mixed race, he is both a result of the melting pot that America has prided itself on, but also a dissolution of Native American identity by white men. Given that there’s a character with similar fates called Man With Two Fathers, this is a story of duality, where everything is at odds with itself.
The earliest twist in the tale is how Doom came to earn his name. As Ikketubbe, he first came across a riverboat where he convinced others to hand it over given that it had floated too far inland and was deemed useless. Along with his slave trade ways where bodies are currency, he gains a codependence on others that makes him mad with power. He first steals a white man’s name as David Callicoat believing that it will make him superior before deciding that he wants to be “The Man” or du homme/Doom. This involves murdering his uncle and when his reclusive brother Sometimes-Wakeup rejects the role of leadership, Doom receives it. This is another way that his legacy is muddled, as he’s not a direct descendant of the previous ruler. In this regard, The Issetebbeha Family has a false reputation. This may be reflective of how Americans stole the land from Native Americans, leading to a whole host of issues including Faulkner’s favorite topic of slavery.
Early on, Doom is seen being carried by a group of slaves. This makes him appear like an Egyptian King, too proper to step foot on pheasant soil. He relies on everyone else to do his bidding and doesn’t value anyone else’s life. It’s not always clear why, but it’s reflective of how white men’s ways have poisoned his virtuosity. The one conflict is that using Quentin as perspective unfortunately makes him seem morally superior to Doom, which creates a host of complicated feelings around the cultural differences. Given that he’s a child looking at the world and trying to understand their fool-hearty ways, it does create some issues with the stories so far in this section.
Another mixed race character is Sam Fathers a.k.a. Uncle Blue-Gum a.k.a. Had-Two-Fathers, who presents a different side of the equation. As a mixed Black-Indian, he is the son of Crawfish-ford a.k.a. Craw-ford, and an enslaved mother. Whereas Doom gets to have power, he is often seen as a submissive figure with an even muddier past. He lives at The Compson Farm and despite being seen as Black, he identifies with his Indian perspective. Given that both groups were oppressed by the white man, it makes sense that there would be a conflict between these two identities. There is the suggestion that somehow being Native American is better in the hierarchy, if just because there’s history and independence. Slaves were often stolen from overseas against their will, meaning that they are lost and unable to escape and start a happy life especially during the events of “A Justice.” At a certain point Doom tries to take Sam’s mother, and Craw-ford tries to defend himself in a uniquely perplexing way/ Sam shares the story with Quentin, and what results is something more confusing.
While this is being approached with academic intent, there are certain difficulties with reading the final stretch in a serious manner. When trying to resolve a conflict, Doom challenges Craw-ford to a cockfight. This isn’t to say that Faulkner is not riveting when it comes to writing action, especially in this case where it lasts many pages, but the idea of referring to roosters solely as “cock” does bring a juvenile interpretation, especially with that much reputation. As a result, there are a lot of “Negro cock” and “pappy’s old cock” that are worded just right to sound like a very dirty story. Given that Craw-ford also impregnates the woman he is fighting for, it does make the hyper-masculine read of this section a little less subtle. While it is doubtful that Faulkner meant it as overtly sexual as he did, there had to be some euphemistic intent somewhere in this battle to the metaphorical death.
Is there truth in all of this? Does Quentin listening to the ramblings of an elderly slave hold any weight? There’s little to suggest that Sam would lie to him, though the question of what the greater moral is. Most of the central figures are in some ways biracial, products of an inappropriate marriage. Most of the dynamics on display aren’t ones of love, mostly keeping the human race alive out of spite. When Doom and Craw-ford are facing off, it’s the byproduct of whitewashing, where two of the characters who should be getting along aren’t. Doom is so devoid of Native American identity that he is outright cruel and inconsiderate. Unlike others, he’s not even tied to his legacy by birthright. He murdered The Man and adopted his identity.
This is basically what America has become. Everyone is against each other even as they become more intertwined. It’s becoming clear that Faulkner wanted to comment on the ways that cultures are changed over time, especially when they start from a place of nature and purity. Doom is corrupted by the white man, even taking their riverboat and the pilot’s identity in the hopes of using it as currency. To him, he is a white man and thus is disconnected from who he is. At least with Craw-ford, there is some recognition of who he is deep down. It also shows the duality of being mixed race, where it all depends on how society sees them and what advantages they ultimately have.
As mentioned in “Red Leaves,” there is a lot of overlap in other stories for The Issetebbeha Family. This one is an extension for Doom especially where he gets to be fleshed out and has more of an arc that seems even more sinister. Among the other Native Americans is Sam Feathers, who also appears in “The Bear” and features in the novel “Go Down, Moses.” As mentioned in “That Evening Sun,” Quentin has multiple appearances as does Caddy (“The Sound and the Fury”) and Jason (“The Mansion,” “The Town”). Watching these worlds overlap does bring some fun for observant Faulkner fans and even more watching the themes flourish into something greater makes every piece feel like part of a whole. They’re not all masterpieces, but they make this experience highly rewarding.
While a lot of the details around the characters and writing process are similar to that featured in “Red Leaves,” there’s plenty that makes the second of the four Indian Stories unique in its road to publication. For starters, it was originally named “Indians Built a Fence” around December 1930. During that time, five magazines rejected it and it eventually changed its name. Unlike every story so far, it wouldn’t appear in any major publication that wasn’t his own compilation with “These Thirteen” in 1931. It should be noted that while there are four total, only three Indian Stories appear in the “Wilderness” section. They’re also scattered throughout other narratives including “The Reivers,” which by then showed the tapestry coming into a more vivid portrait of Yoknapatawpha County.
Even if “A Justice” doesn’t fully answer the question of what justice is, it does continue Faulkner’s observations around how the white man changed American culture in peripheral ways. As Quentin Compson listens, he discovers how the world is corrupted, finding pleasures that aren’t organic and resulting in a loss of identity. With the three cultures intersecting, the idea of who is a slave master becomes more compelling. Had Faulkner had a great nuance that wasn’t afforded to white men of the time, there’s a good chance that this would be even more masterful instead of sometimes gimmicky. For what it is, it’s further evidence that his encyclopedia of this world is much more expansive and nuanced than other sections let on. They paint a portrait of humanity that spans centuries, showing how this animosity is nothing new. If nothing else, it’s inherited biologically and even narratively from those through osmosis.
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