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.
Much to my chagrin, “The Wasteland” is the first section of “Collected Stories” that has felt like a complete toss-up. This isn’t to say that it’s not all that good or lacks things to ponder over, but usually I am able to put the larger career of Faulkner into perspective as I’ve navigated the past few sections. Outside of “Ad Astra,” these short stories lack accessibility in the research department, meaning that I am unsure how to assess with any surety what these stories mean to the greater lore of the author. While I’m aware that he has personal ties to living through World War I, there wasn’t enough there for me to find something crucial to extrapolate on. As it stands, only one of three stories has a page on The Digital Yoknapatawpha Project website, meaning I can’t even access timelines for context.
What has been gathered over the three stories so far is a greater scope of what it meant to fight in the war. Even the first words in the section (“ad astra” or “to the stars”) present a vision that makes complete sense if judging this all as a narrative of The Lost Generation. The first story found characters in a bit of a wandering state, trying to find comfort and meaning in a Parisian café where they were face to face with a world that was much different from their own. Chronologically, it was Faulkner’s first steps outside of Yoknapatawpha County and presented a world full of allure. With “Victory,” he has zoomed closer into the soldier’s story, focusing on a journey of innocence lost from boot camp to veteran status. It was bittersweet in all of the right ways, even if it’s among the author’s most meandering works.
What makes “Crevasse” particularly interesting is how the lens appears to be zooming closer into the act of war this time. Having given a sense of character, he shifts attention to being in the trenches and having shrapnel flying everywhere. Even if his work has existed in the trauma of war, this is the first time that he’s really made something that’s lived in an active moment, where the danger is present and the reader is in constant suspense about whether everyone will survive. Even if there has been a lot of peril throughout these stories, this is one of the first to have potential stakes involved. Maybe a character will disappear before the concluding paragraphs.
In what is also a very interesting contrast, “Crevasse” marks a lengthy shift from “Victory.” Whereas the former clocked over 30 pages and detailed years of experience, this one focuses on the impact of hours in a tight-knit space. Clocking in at roughly 10 pages, “Crevasse” is among the shortest featured works in “Collected Stories” and doesn’t waste a single sentence getting to the heart of the story.
The gist is simple. There are soldiers who are carrying a wounded comrade to safety on a stretcher. It isn’t entirely clear what lead to this injury, but it is a noble act. As the saying goes: a good soldier never leaves a man behind. It is the myth of the patriot and something that Faulkner probably believes in his heart. In contrast to other stories in “The Wasteland,” there is that sense of underlying despair, the concern of moving forward and holding onto hope. When you’re wounded, it’s pretty much the last moment you could achieve any parallel sensation.
The story benefits from ambiguity as it allows everything to quickly get to the point. While the acts in it are themselves brave, the final action is one of painful sacrifice, meaning that the soldier’s life isn’t all about heroics. Sometimes it’s about the hard decisions, and it comes when they find themselves in one of the most awkward positions imaginable. As the title suggests, they are in a crevasse, or crevice, where they’re officially cornered and have to figure out how to survive with very limited resources. Suddenly the man on the stretcher isn’t the only man in dire straits. Everyone is about to experience the most nerve-racking afternoon of their lives.
This is the closest to a ticking clock that Faulkner has written. The closest example is “Dry September,” which even then doesn’t reduce the fatality to a time frame. Here, every second is life or death. As the injuries pile up and supplies are reduced to bare minimums, the chances of escaping enemy attacks are more difficult, meaning that as sacred as human life is, one has to consider if aiding one will put the others at risk. It’s a conundrum that is fascinating as an exercise and one of the stronger stories in “The Wasteland.” On the one hand, saving every life is the right thing to do. However, good luck being able to protect and serve your country when you’re greatly handicapped.
In what may be among the most interesting parallels is the presence of a leader who is reading the bible. While this is far from the first time that Faulkner has referenced religion in his work, it’s interesting to put the concept of war and violence into the practice of virtuosity. On the one hand, the bible encourages readers to be “slow to anger, rich in kindness.” There is a need to be a good Samaritan to those who are less fortunate and see the good in the world. War, by contrast, is anything but good in the world. It’s inherently the most evil thing one can do, which includes murdering strangers and profiling whole groups negatively. Considering that, like “Victory,” these soldiers are probably newbies to the military game, they don’t have much of a personality to pull from. They are doing it out of service to their country which, again, was founded on the separation of church and state.
They have the right to believe whatever they want, but one has to wonder how being noble will benefit anyone in a war zone. At a microcosm, the soldier reflects virtuosity at its finest. The job is simple: aid him back to health. It’s maybe the easiest way to be a good Samaritan in war, and thus makes a new conflict all the more interesting. Does one feel guilt when the return to health is sabotaged by a greater attack on the group? Does the need of the few outweigh the needs of the many? From the bible’s perspective, there is a need to emphasize kindness towards everyone, and that becomes difficult when one becomes lobbed into the bigger statistic. How does one rationalize letting the man die in order to save others? They are stuck in this inescapable crevice, at least with everyone in tow.
While Faulkner has created whole centuries of characters whose families have been killed in war, it’s interesting to note that “Crevasse” doesn’t tie to any other significant work. It would be easy to have a standby character show up in a later story, especially since the author is so interested in the various connections between generations. By having them all singular to “Crevasse,” it makes them feel more disposable, creating uncertainty around whether any of them will survive. To an extent, that is the point. There is a need to treat even the most removed from our lives with respect. Yet one would be forgiven for wondering why “The Wasteland” doesn’t feel all that significant so far to the world Faulkner built. Is it to reflect how he thinks of this differently from just any other historic period he's obsessed with?
Whatever the case may be, it’s refreshing to have a short Faulkner story that goes straight to the point after so many that feel weighed down by its second act. There’s too much methodical thinking at times and an effort to really drive a point home. “Crevasse” is more quiet about any grander theme, and if anything is more about building the emotion of despair. Even with an introduction that establishes the hospitality of those around the wounded man, the reader asks themselves what they would do in this situation. So much fear. It’s a simple premise, but the peril brings enough uncertainty to make any conclusion have a satisfying ring to it.
What can be gained from building a greater sense of theme to “The Wasteland”? If anything, The Lost Generation definitely feels apt this time around with a scenario that has no easy answer. Given that Faulkner has emphasized the external concerns these soldiers have faced, the effort to grasp morality in a world without a conscience is a brilliant anomaly. In a sense, all of them are injured, and in need of somebody else to rescue them. As much as the bible can be read as a series of virtues, it could also be some perverse commentary on a lack of deus ex machina, a hand of God that rescues everyone from potential demise. So much is at stake, and one can’t help but pray that somebody is watching over them.
With only two stories left to go, there’s little time for this section to totally turn things around, though it does feel like the writer is aiming for a miniature biography of an era. Unlike “The Wilderness,” it has yet to be satisfying, where every piece clicks into place and makes everything substantial. These stories have been good, but as a detour from his greater themes of how America has built its identity, I’m still waiting for this to have the realization of something greater in store. What will make this journey into WWI a necessary addition to the puzzle? I understand that the moment was significant to history, but by the lack of available research on these alone, it’s hard to argue if they should be considered among his best work.
Coming Up Next: "Turnabout"
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