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 continues through “The Wasteland” with a bit of an odd duck. As with “Ad Astra,” the question ultimately comes up of what Faulkner is trying to say about World War I by focusing a whole story on the lengthy journey of Alec Gray. It’s among the longest featured in “Collected Stories” and also one of the least discussed works. “Victory” joins “Lo!” as one of the few stories not even referenced on The Digital Yoknapatawpha Project. It is safe to say that this ranks among his less popular stories, even to the point of not featuring a character who recurs in his greater literary universe. All that’s left to ask then is why include this at all?
Much like “The Wilderness” stories, I think that “Victory” benefits from proxy to a greater theme. When starting “The Wasteland,” a few things were clear automatically. This would be a section asking a lot of heavy questions around The Lost Generation, including what it meant to fight in a war. Coming out of “Ad Astra,” there was a greater global sense of identity in Faulkner’s writing that hasn’t been featured elsewhere. It’s a place where American culture is forced to interact with people from Europe and even Africa, all in transit to someplace else. Even with a perceived victory, what made them heroes? “Ad Astra” had this sense of being lost in a galaxy without a simple identity. People could make up whatever they want so long as it made them happy. They could work hard to build class, but what stability is that going to give them?
There’s a lot to love about that story’s unconventional approach to narrative, where everything is observed and taken initially out of context. Slowly the wandering threads connect not in a literal way, but something more spiritual. There is a sense within the strangers of community that transcends language. No character truly stands out, at least for one or two moments. By comparison, “Victory” contradicts the scope by taking everything and zooming in on one man: Alec Gray.
When he starts the story he’s reprimanded for being in the military despite not being old enough to shave. It’s a comical moment that puts him at odds immediately with any greater sense of unity. He’s not connected to his fellow troops who, on top of being his superiors, come across as authoritative adults trying to reprimand a juvenile. Alec is a newbie in all of this, and it adds a compelling touch to everything that follows. He starts at the bottom as the butt of everyone’s jokes, but will build into something grander and more complex. It’s a story as much about joining the military during WWI as it is maturing into an adult whose whole life is defined and impacted by war, forced to comply with guidelines that are initially absurd. If anything, everything becomes normalized by the end in ways both practical and tragic.
While little suggests that Faulkner was against the greater purpose of WWI, it does feel like personally living through the era gave him a sympathetic ear. His greater literary universe has survived many wars, and yet he chose to expand upon this one and create something very personal. It could be that it was unlike any other event to that point in the early 20th century, or that it produced a handful of complicated symptoms. Soldiers would return without understanding how to handle their shell shock and truly connect with the public who saluted them in parades. Add WWII on top of that, and it’s a feat that feels diminished solely by magnitude. Nothing they did could stop the madness from stopping. Even if WWI was won, history would gradually sweep it under the rug.
Gray is maybe the most compelling case study for soldiers that he’s featured so far. While he doesn’t have the most eccentric or accessible story, “Victory” features a lengthy exploration of self. Like in “Ad Astra,” there is a lot of focus from outside perspectives, including a Frenchman. By doing this, Faulkner attempts to make a greater sense of purpose for the characters. Having a singular perspective promotes accountability and introspection, which feels like the opposite intent of “The Wasteland.” Even then, the effort to understand Alec Gray is a compelling drive, if just because of how it finds him both wandering around Europe but also trying to connect with life back home.
So, what is the point of focusing on this man in particular? I think more than other narratives, there is a generality that makes Alec Gray feel familiar. His surname reflects an ambiguity about where his future could even lay. He’s barely out of school and has no real foundation for where his life is heading. He doesn’t have a substantial business to fall back on, or an education that makes him scholarly. All he has is this war and a chance to be perceived as a national hero. Just like any young buck, that isn’t a guarantee that he’ll live to appreciate it, or even go home in an all-sound condition.
I understand that the sprawling nature of “Victory” isn’t as enthralling as most other narratives. Each chapter feels more like a snapshot than a greater revelation. It’s not like “Uncle Willy” where the passing of time enhances the procession. It’s observational, meditating on the procession of man through this war. He slowly matures as he comes across these special series of conflicts. It’s the type of story where the innocence established early on becomes bittersweet nostalgia by the end, making one wish their only conflict was shaving. In its own way, the hair reflects the battle scars and internal struggles breaking through as it goes on, finding the military trying to hide them daily. The issue is that they cannot be hidden. They will escape when one puts down their defenses long enough. It’s inevitable.
Another thing that adds an impressive subtext to Alec’s journey is the letters that he writes home. There is a desire to connect to home, and he’s constantly trying to justify his time away from home. He is as wandering in his new environment, looking for some connection. Just like every character in “Ad Astra,” Alec embodies a desire to use the war to better his life. It is a reason many have joined the military, and it’s no different here. The effort to right the aimless path is at the heart of this whole endeavor, and instead it reflects the most internal of fears, finding a man who has never lived forced to follow a dangerous life that doesn’t fully embody what he wants. The only thing he seeks to get from this is a potential rise in social class, where he’s capable of being a hero with wealth to his name. Even then, he’s too naïve to be guaranteed anything.
So the question ultimately comes in comprehending the title. Is Alec’s journey considered a “Victory”? He’s nothing that he sought out to be, and yet he’ll come home able to shape whatever story he wants. There is an emptiness and caution that makes him another product of The Lost Generation. He’s still looking for meaning, and this didn’t offer a lot of it. Every turn features him in conflict with somebody else, never finding peace or sense of respect that comes from experience. It isn’t the most tragic narrative that Faulkner has crafted, and yet it feels indicative of this idea of “The Wasteland.” It’s a great unknown where everyone involved wanders through life, unable to really find any grounding. There is no hope.
Of course, there is hope in the sense that the war externally ended. WWI doesn’t last forever. However, the struggle of the self is something that will only continue to march on and on. They are a part of history, but almost a footnote with little to show for their sacrifices. When he returns home, how will his life be better? “Victory” isn’t a particularly great story in terms of entertainment, but it definitely continues the strand of Faulkner using war to comment on its irreparable ways of changing oneself. The naivety fades and disillusionment rises. While “Ad Astra” does a lot of the same things better, this is a solid continuation of the themes, giving room to expand into the pudgy corners, looking for singularity and humanity in every role.
At the end of the day, “Victory” is a decent story that continues to reflect Faulkner’s sympathy for war veterans. He finds humanity that is refreshing and helps create the sense that “Collected Stories” isn’t a work of fiction but a recreation of history. While a lot of these characters never existed, they all are connected to something real. The emotions conveyed have something that elevates these struggles into timeless art. I am hoping that the remaining stories in “The Wasteland” will have the author finding more creative ways to capture this experience as it relates to an underwritten war. So far it’s been quite an impressively abstract journey into the unknown and hopefully somewhere in there he finds answers. Otherwise, this will be some of the finest wanderings through Europe captured on the page. Faulkner lived through it and it makes sense that, as a result, he understands how to turn it into an exciting yarn.
Coming Up Next: “Crevasse”
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