Short Stop: #24. William Faulkner’s “Turnabout”

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.

Continuing the journey through “The Wasteland,” Faulkner has moved the adventure further and further away from where things have started. Of the four stories covered so far, “Turnabout” is the only one not to be set in France. Much like “Victory,” it’s a lengthy character study that finds him exploring the life of a soldier who maybe is a bit incompetent. Still, the journey into combat presents something that draws the reader in, finding the writer finally using some playful technique. Even amid a tragic outcome, he has this rich irony that reflects what makes him a great fiction writer. If the previous three had too much of a mature core to really veer into something that could be deemed damning criticism, then this is where everything begins to explode in triumphant, sometimes comic fashion.

Something that has been interesting about this section has been looking at “The Wasteland” as a commentary on The Lost Generation. As laid out in “Ad Astra,” there is an aimlessness to everything that makes their noble sacrifice feel empty and lacking any personal growth in character. The main difference is that where “Crevasse” depicted soldiers morally falling into bad behavior out of necessity, “Turnabout” looks to be focusing on a similarly destructive measure that could be prevented. In this case, Captain Bogard is all dressed up and has nowhere to go. His cohorts are all described with childish language, finding it to be a McHale’s Navy situation where the world doesn’t know how close they were to destruction when they got hold of military-grade equipment.

The story is broken up into 10 sections, which detail different parts of their adventure. Already there’s conflict in demeanor. Bogard is described as intelligent while he is stuck taking care of the policeman Claude Hope, who looks “like a masquerading girl” and cannot stand because of his inebriation. As a moniker, it’s an amusing symbol of where the story is about to go. Law enforcement is too weak to stand on its own and Bogard has to take initiative when Hope is gone. It’s almost infantile, finding Bogard talking about games he plays with his cohorts at sea. The balance between law and disorder is evident from the beginning, but it’s something that will only grow more chaotic as the story progresses. 

At times, this reads like a “Shingles for the Lord,” but set inside a military group. They’re the type of naval ship that solves their problems with alcohol, trying to numb the pain and act like they know what they’re doing. One of the first major conflicts that emerge is the use of a bomb being fired. Already there is concern that Lt. McGinnis isn’t the professional that they need to fight any war. He incorrectly takes initiative and ends up causing more problems. The conflict in the group leads one to worry that things will get out of hand very quickly.

While this is predominantly a naval story, Faulkner makes space for some time in the air force. Given his interest in aircraft, it makes sense that he would finally explore a portion of World War I that the other stories haven’t. It also explains why it’s one of the most staggering and electric portions featured so far. There is a horror to reading about a plane where bombs are potentially being dropped and a right wing is severely damaged. The reader can’t help but wonder what this is all leading to. It’s portrayed as the equivalent of children playing with dangerous toys and coming close to blowing off a limb. It’s not even subtle, as Faulkner makes sure to comment on how juvenile their responsibility ultimately was, and thus makes one wonder what makes them at all noble, even as Hope declares that their handling of the events is “marvelous.”

Even with this detour, everything is building to something that needs the support of multiple blunders. The aircraft almost failing reflects how closely they’re getting to all-encompassing doom. By the time they get to the concluding naval fight, it’s baked into the story that something bad is going to happen. Everyone is on edge, and the sight of danger is predictable. Another thing that adds to the dread of reaching the final third is that Faulkner expertly begins by showing his characters struggling from a distance, where a potential bomb going off will not directly impact them. Even friendly fire going off is distant enough to be a threat, but whose fatality is preventable. 

Meanwhile, a naval ship is more likely to be directly impacted by any slight disturbance. Even if the ship doesn’t crumble several leagues beneath, there is still the reality that every person aboard has to escape into the ocean where they’re sitting ducks, capable of either being individually murdered or simply drowning. Given that they went into knowingly dangerous territory, it feels like the amount of agitation is going to make something go off. The teeth grinding is powerful and this reflects Faulkner’s strength as a writer. Unlike the previous stories, the action drives everything in a way that builds characters, making them more than clear cut heroes and villains.

As someone who has used “The Wasteland” to argue what makes WWI veterans worthy of being called heroes, it’s interesting how critical he often has been about the military. While many of the stories are arguably more about individual integrity, there’s something to be said for how “Crevasse” finds nobility unable to be lived, where a sense of accomplishment in “Ad Astra” isn’t as triumphant as the newsreels will make it out to be. Here, it’s something much more damning. He’s discussed soldiers who don’t belong in combat before, but here is where he suddenly asks the question: what if they really didn’t?

Most have been bright-eyed, naïve young individuals fighting for patriotism and not knowing the severity of their actions. That is true in “Turnabout,” but the reality is that they’re the most irresponsible, offensive type of soldiers imaginable. Starting with the wobbly presence of Hope, there is a nihilistic approach to the story that builds in every decision, creating a dark comedy that ends, almost cyclically, with Bogard once again being seen opposite his troops as childlike. 

On the one hand, it could be a commentary on how these men are too incompetent to do their job. However, there’s also the suggestion that they’re all simply as tragic as Gray in “Victory.” They’re people who never should’ve had power because they’re merely children, incapable of recognizing the complex situation to its fullest extent. If viewed as tragic juveniles, it makes the idea more disappointing because they never got to mature and become these triumphant leaders. While it’s easy to see them all as arrogant, it’s important to recognize that the ones who are being childish differ from the ones being childlike. Hope is childish, not recognizing the value of life. As a symbol of law and order, it becomes perfectly clear how Faulkner sees the military’s relationship with the men fighting for their country.

The question that ends the story is whether the men lost during the battle were actually heroes. According to a write-up in The English Gazette, certain events have played out differently. Hope’s torpedo boat went missing. Bogard’s aircraft completed a mission that would’ve otherwise had him court-martialed. The story ends by suggesting that a bomb could’ve been dropped on the generals eating lunch just as a petty attack. The chaos would’ve ensued. Had the others not died and become “heroes” through rewritten history, things could’ve played out much differently. At the end of the day, it is up for interpretation how out of control everything would’ve gotten had the childish characters continued to not recognize the severity of their power.

As far as entries to “The Wasteland” go, this adds another promising wrinkle to the larger study. What is being said about The Lost Generation in a story where characters inappropriately attack each other in very dangerous gameplay? I think personally that what makes this section work isn’t that the stories are on par with his other work, but that again he has managed to reflect themes that overlap and create a bigger tapestry around what it means to be a soldier. It’s not just fighting a force outside of your own, but those who live among you, who are there begrudgingly and maybe are taking their anger out on the wrong people. Others just love watching the world burn. It’s all part of the chaos and a lack of unified identity that complements the loneliness and incongruent cultural identity. Nobody is working together, so what is ultimately there to suggest that The United States is in fact united?

“Turnabout” was first published as “Turn About” in Saturday Evening Post on March 5, 1932. As the sole WWI story not based in France, it stands out as this piece about how far he’s planning to expand the map. Much like “Victory” and “Crevasse,” there isn’t really a connection to his greater Yoknapatawpha County lore, meaning the fatalities of these characters could be left ambiguous until their ultimate demise. While it would be endearing to have attached it to a greater group of characters, especially for an author known for his interconnectedness, it makes sense to have WWI feel detached from a landscape that is largely about reconstructing American ideology because many of the characters involved likely ended up feeling that way when everything came to a conclusion.

Another exciting addition to this story’s inclusion of “Collected Stories” is that this was Faulkner’s first step into Hollywood. On September 26, 1932, Faulkner signed away distribution rights to Loew’s Corporation. The subsequent release from MGM was the Howard Hawks entry Today We Live (1933), which added a romantic plot – originally written by Faulkner - featuring Joan Crawford and Gary Cooper. The author wrote the script in five days, but Irving Thalberg encouraged him to write a love interest in as Crawford was on a $500,000 salary. Along with the incorporation of footage from Hell’s Angels (1930), the film was criticized for having dialogue reminiscent of Ernest Hemmingway. Similarly, the film was not critically well received and considered a bomb upon release.

Of the four stories referenced in “The Wasteland” so far, it makes sense why “Turnabout” was the one that got attention. Along with having one of the most streamlined stories, it manages to convey a central group of characters whose struggles are easy to connect with while providing a unique perspective on war. It’s also not a somber, dreary affair that mostly exists to embrace the futility of war. There’s so much fun imagery going on that a great filmmaker could make pop with meaning. In that regard, it’s an interesting starting point for Faulkner in Hollywood. It’s far from his best work, but as far as views into his fascination with violence, it does offer something brilliantly ambiguous, both tragic and comic in equal measure.

While this section has largely been one of the more underwhelming, it could just be because of how little feels connected to the world that he’s built. “Turnabout” at least achieves the value of being an entertaining read that keeps the reader guessing what will happen next. The escalation is in top form and the conclusion is far from convenient. As a look into The Lost Generation, it’s rare that he wrote about anyone who felt more lost, so in the way of a time bomb that would swallow the good-intentioned leaders whole. Is it because their troops are childlike or childish? Maybe it’s a little bit of both. Still, history has written them as heroes, and in itself raises questions on how many more soldiers in real life aren’t deserving of that status, or at best misunderstood in their overall accomplishments.

Coming Up Next: “All the Dead Pilots”