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.
If one thing is clear by the end of “The Wilderness,” it’s the disappointment that more of “Collected Stories” isn’t condensing family lineages more directly. There’s plenty to mull over thematically, but there is something to be said for digging into The Issetebbeha Family and showing the way they evolved with the author over decades. Whereas “A Justice” came near the start of his career, “A Courtship” was near the end. There’s a trajectory that can be followed and shown in more creative subtexts of the author’s views on slavery and cultural identity throughout The American South. While he does suffer the shortcomings of being a white writer trying to explain differing perspectives, I do at least appreciate him trying to explore the racial conflicts that are embedded in this country’s history.
With that said, “Lo!” is an underwhelming down note to end this four-run journey. It could just be that Ikkemotubbe/Doom is among the more compelling characters Faulkner created and has provided room for analysis, but something is gone when the last of The Four Indian Stories doesn’t have any recognizable character. It’s true that The President is unsubtly based on Andrew Jackson who also made a cameo in “A Courtship,” but the parallels from there aren’t as evident. The only real connection is that it once again finds a Native American trying to solve a dispute. Whereas the rest of “The Wilderness” has seen them take it into their own hands, this is an attempt to do it “legally,” where the symbolic justice of America finally rings true. Having depicted the ways that colonialism has stripped Native Americans of their identity, it makes sense to discuss it in ways more conventional to a Faulkner text. For as predictable as the ending is, it at least confirms that the paranoia that lay in the other text was true. Even The President was out to destroy the foundation of their culture one shoddy law at a time.
In what is probably the most effective image of the story, The President wakes to find people camping outside his residence. It is freezing and all that he can say is “Damn, damn, damn.” With The Secretary at his side, he gets dressed for the occasion ahead. He is distant from the people he is seeking to serve. Even their level of comfort is fantastically different. It could even be whittled down to the stereotype of Native Americans living off the land. It’s not portrayed as racist just yet, but The President’s words aren’t necessarily helping. He’s even more detached morally, believing that this is a minor inconvenience to his greater day. Given how much time is dedicated to him putting on his shoes, it’s clear that he feels superior to them and there’s something implicitly belittling about the pages ahead.
Among the biggest conflicts is The President’s discomfort with his subject’s name. Whereas he is simply known as “The President,” the man he is meeting is known as Weddell or Vidal. Even the man himself isn’t all that concerned about what he is called, and yet it eats at The President. Maybe it’s the black-and-white simplicity that is lacking, or just that he doesn’t want to deal with it at all. It’s clear that they disagree on the outcome, even if one can argue not by the person expected to. There is even disbelief with Weddell suggesting deeper consideration. The President is stringent with his decision. More time is spent trying to give it more thought than actual deliberation.
The Weddell/Vidal name in itself could be tied to how Ikkemotubbe took on many identities including white names in order to survive. While it’s unclear where Vidal as a name came from, it is evident that he has evolved as a person. As the only character with an official name throughout the text, it even suggests his importance in the matter. The President is seemingly inconsequential even if it’s his perspective that the reader sees the events through. They are aware of his impatience and subconscious racism, even as he contemplates war imagery for the sake of making his day easier.
So what is the conflict at hand, the whole reason that Weddell traveled so many miles to achieve this justice? There was clearly some conflict tugging at his morality if he thought it was important to deal with legally. The conflict involves his nephew potentially being accused of murder when a white man fell from his horse and received a concussion. Given that it was near a river, The President uses it as a discussion of borders, of trying to keep the two cultures separate from each other. Whereas Weddell is desiring some sort of punishment for the act, The President is the opposite. He treats it like a slap on the wrist, suggesting his nephew be more careful in the future.
What makes Weddell the voice of reason here is how it contrasts with the previous three stories. Ikkemotubbe was consistently the source of violence and misery. In “A Courtship” alone he is accused of poisoning several characters. Nothing suggests that Weddell is a bad person and is in fact noble. He wants to follow the rules of this country, to not be seen as a savage because of this potentially damning moment in his life. He’s afraid of what could happen to him. Maybe he would be murdered himself, created as a pariah for the white men to track down and brutally assault. He wants punishment for his nephew, but one that would hopefully be reasonable.
Important factors to consider involve how The President handles the situation. They do not meet in a court of law, but in some casual venue that holds no legal jurisdiction. Throughout the story, he’s still thinking about canons and doing everything to wrap events up. The reader could even assume the eye rolls he gives when Weddell wants further thought into the crime. As he wraps up events, he takes advantage of his power by first reading Latin poetry in hopes Weddell mistakes it as legislature, even forging documents to try and frame Weddell and his nephew for the events that conclude the story. He wants to make it look like what he will do is justified, creating an image that doesn’t exist. So why not give him a worse punishment? It’s easier to create false airs of positivity and catch them off guard than have them prepare for an all-out war.
The story ends with The President telling The Secretary to create documents for war. They’re going after both sides of the river and who knows what exactly will happen next. For those familiar with Andrew Jackson’s trajectory, it’s likely going to feature genocide and excision of entire cultures – in the case of Faulkner, the Chickasaw. It’s a recognizable way for this story to end, especially as it feels like The President is rejecting the world outside his small bubble. He refuses to show compassion even with the kindest of gestures, not listening to complicated reasoning. To him, Weddell and his nephew aren’t worth his time and this has all been in humor.
So why end “The Wilderness” with “Lo!” and not something else? After all, it seems out of place in The Indian Stories solely because they’re supporting players. The President doesn’t connect to the timeline that has been established. What has been secretly brilliant about “Collected Stories” isn’t just the entertaining stories, but how they subconsciously create a greater understanding of Faulkner and how Yoknapatawpha County resembles 19th and 20th century America specifically. Rarely has a writer made an entire region feel so alive. He may not always have the best perspective, but “The Wilderness” is an impressive microcosm of history.
As mentioned in “A Courtship,” Jackson symbolized the decay of the Native American identity. From “Red Leaves” onward, there was an understanding of how each generation grew worse with the grandson Mokketubbe being obese and mentally impaired. There was fading humanity to their tribe, and the legality around justice and slavery became more complicated. It can be argued that “The Wilderness” as a whole plays too much into negative stereotypes, but that’s too easy of a read. There is a more muddled vision of America being changed from its natural beginnings, of how the white man ruined everything.
Jackson/The President being a nameless figure perfectly symbolizes a reversal of this image. Many believe that the Native American would be the villain of the piece, especially given the use of murder. However, there is a logic to it and the quest for forgiveness is something that the white men don’t want. There is something contrarian to Weddell being the good guy, who even questions his moral compass. He is a complicated figure simply because his journey feels too easy. Comparatively, The President embodies the negative stereotypes. He’s nameless and quickly attacks his enemy not because of their crimes but because he is racist.
Faulkner ends everything by asking why we should trust the white men to have the higher opinion. Why did they get to become The President when they’re quick to tear down other groups? It creates a haunting idea of what power truly means and what the wrong person can do. It may not have the most weight of the four, but it does better put them into context. The President is impersonal and very forgettable in his predictability, and yet his decisions feature across generations, corroding self until The Native American becomes identical to the white man. Whereas they seem to have superiority over Black individuals, they are still oppressed enough that their freedoms aren’t a surefire thing. If anything, the idea of them being taken away allows everything to fall apart gradually.
On the one hand, “Lo!” is an underwhelming finish to “The Wilderness” to the point that it’s one of the few stories not featured on The Digital Yoknapatawpha Project website which is so thorough that every unnamed character in every other story has a synopsis and the publication history is accessible. One gets a sense of why Faulkner wrote those stories beyond simple paychecks. While “Lo!” is a fairly easy story to deconstruct why he included it, there’s something disappointing in how the conclusiveness of its intentions is lost by tearing away family and identity. Maybe that was the point all along, that to The President who was invisible beforehand that they shouldn’t stand for anything at all.
It's been a fun ride through “The Wilderness” and even with its brevity “Collected Stories” manages to make it work. They are by no means the most interesting, though it would be exciting to see him condense family lineages into different sections more directly if just to see how a grandfather ties to a grandson and how Faulkner’s views shift with the times. Maybe they would be failures in the continuity department. Maybe they wouldn’t explore the same themes. Even then, to notice how “A Justice” ties not only to one family but to other narratives, it’s amazing to think how far this tapestry can go. It was fun to see a small part of it come together and hopefully more like it will come by very soon.
Coming Up Next: "Ad Astra"
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