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.
As the anthology moves onto “The Middle Grounds,” a certain theme seems to have returned in spades. “Wash” returns Faulkner to a famous theme that has consumed a lot of these stories, most notably in “The Village,” where he contemplates the future of America through the simple act of impregnation. The need for an offspring that can hold onto one’s ideals is attractive, especially in The American South immediately following The Civil War. This is evident in stories like “Dry September” and “Hair” where complicated relationships, often involving young suggestible women and overpowering men, emphasize how the comfortable ideology is slipping away. Given how Yoknapatawpha symbolizes that reconstruction from a slave-owning way of life through centuries, it’s impressive how much territory he’s managed to mine from this one topic.
Even if all of those stories do a compelling job of reflecting the insecurity of evolving with the times, it’s arguable that “Wash” is somewhere near the top and the most hyper-literal interpretation of this idea so far in “Collected Stories.” The whole story centers on Milly giving birth in a barn, believing to be the child of Colonel Sutpen. At the outset, there’s not a lot to suggest that anything sinister is happening, but by the end, there is parricide and infanticide at the hands of Milly’s grandfather Wash Jones. It’s a paltry 15 pages that at times meanders and doesn’t fully reveal its intentions, but it works as a real scorcher of a tale. As the reader becomes surprised by the closing pages which cyclically incorporate religious and dramatic imagery that was always there, one has to wonder what is even going on.
To run down the basics, there is Colonel Sutpen who owns the farm where everything takes place. During the Civil War, he served under Major De Spain (previously seen in “Barn Burning” and “Shall Not Perish”) and returned home with citations from Robert E. Lee. As historians know, he’s not necessarily a hero because he was a Confederate soldier, but holds onto the remaining power where he can. He doesn’t want to let go of his slaves and the chance to hold his power over Wash Jones is evident. Wash was too sick to serve in the war and was made fun of it. Now he works under Sutpen at a store. Much like “Uncle Willy,” Sutpen is among other things an alcoholic who Wash has to take care of. Unlike that story, the ending is far less comic.
For most readers, Wash’s dialect may make him come across as a servant or slave. Given Faulkner’s love of using language to reflect intellect, it makes sense that he is seen initially as lesser, where he’s not even a central figure when the story starts. He is also described as having malaria and often times “gaunt.” When Sutpen was away, he had to convince others to let him use his home as protection, trying to overstep his limited power. Still, everyone is submissive to Sutpen. This includes Milly, whose new child is not given the gift of a loving father because Sutpen is obsessed with having a male heir. Given that Wash is her grandfather, another interesting detail quickly emerges: the horrendous age gap.
As evident in a lot of Faulkner's tales at this point, men have a strange relationship with fertility. There is some belief that the next generation must hold onto their ideals and keep the Confederacy from dying out. Sutpen clearly believes that a male heir means that the child will also not be submissive to someone else, potentially gaining the power that he wishes to have. Also, there’s less chance for him to be impregnated and bastardize the legacy. At least with a male heir, he can raise him to believe in the ways of his youth while holding onto his name, holding onto something that is evident and won’t fade away. Given that he chooses to do it rather inappropriately to Milly, it explains just how desperate he is in the wake of losing a war that seeks to wipe out everything he had built up.
An intriguing, if perverted, thing that makes “Wash” even greater is that the image within itself symbolizes something akin to The Nativity Scene from the bible where Mary gives birth to Jesus. There’s a religious undertone to everything. This makes Sutpen’s comment of saying that she could’ve had a stall if she were a mare all the more telling. He looks down on women to that extreme of an extent, where she can’t even have the dignity of birth in one of the homes on his property, that she’s treated like an animal, but not a high-end one. Not until she births a male heir.
This makes it appealing that Wash’s central prop is a scythe, which would make him more of an angel of death. Given that this is his granddaughter, it makes the idea all the more horrific. Even then, it reflects how these two men see the birth of a child similarly. Sutpen hopes to hold onto his ideals in a very irrational way while Wash sees it more as an abomination, that would regress everyone back to a worse time. The Civil War was lost, and yet many refuse to let go of it. Even in the case where Milly finds a better father figure, or even become a single mother, that would still have Sutpen’s DNA, meaning purity is unachievable even under the best circumstances.
It is all perverse and disturbing in ways that Faulkner has only hinted at in the past. While he doesn’t explore the unspeakable actions on the page, the reader is well aware of the circumstances. Wash will murder Sutpen and the child before everything is over. He is saving Milly from the imprisonment of Confederate history, allowing her to seek a life free of these limitations. While there’s plenty of shocks to be had in Wash murdering a child with a dagger, Faulkner’s literary intentions are consistent. Symbolically, it’s no different than relying on religious subtext in “Shingles for the Lord.” Everything is done to balance good and evil in the world.
In this regard, it’s amazing how different “Wash” is from the other interpretations of lineage. This is one that’s biblical, implying a connection to centuries of beliefs and purity that one strives for in life. It adds a supernatural text to everything and allows the angel of death motif to work without seeming silly. It also asks whether one is truly being moral by holding onto power that is not their own, playing a God of sorts, and not allowing freedoms that others deserve. By killing Sutpen, Wash is allowing a Civil War of sorts to end, where the craziness is finally released and sanity can hope to be achieved. It even ends with a barn burning, like a full burial that removes the sin from the earth. From the ashes, one can hope that a more rational society can emerge.
This is an oversimplification of the plot and themes, but it reflects how Faulkner sought to grow as a writer. He blurs the line between the short story format and something more dramatic, playing with when details are introduced and when characters enter and exit. There is a greater world than what most of these stories are used to. It plays with technique in such a way that is unlike anything he’s written before, finding ways to turn detours into powerful symbolism about the characters. Even if Milly, like most women in “Collected Stories,” feels like a symbol it does manage to hold weight when everything comes together. Given that this also follows “All the Dead Pilots” which sought to endear war veterans, it’s such a great yet radical shift back to something more familiar.
An issue with “Wash” is that after 25 previous stories it’s difficult to determine what will make “The Middle Grounds” a unique section. Faulkner has effectively managed to focus on themes throughout these stories but this isn’t presenting anything new. The only real prediction is that he’s maybe preparing to add spiritual subtext or even reflect dynamics that exist outside of “The Country” or “The Village.” To his credit, this feels a bit too narratively complex to fit into either of those, but I like to think this is building to a grand, unifying tapestry. Unlike the previous two, it’s going to be exciting trying to piece together just what this all means.
To run down the highlights, “Wash” is considered another major work of Faulkner’s career. It was critically acclaimed at the time of release and was published on November 2, 1933 in Harper’s Magazine. In return, he received $350. The story would quickly begin making the rounds, first appearing in the 1933 collection “Dr. Martino and Other Stories.” The general plot would also be extrapolated and added to the novel “Absalom, Absalom!” which would feature a handful of characters including Colonel Sutpen, Wash and Milly Jones, and Major De Spain. Overall, it remains one of Faulkner’s most renowned short stories alongside “Barn Burning” and “A Rose for Emily.”
To break it down further, other characters appeared in other texts throughout the author’s career. Sutpen would also appear in a handful including “Go Down, Moses,” “Requiem for a Nun,” and “The Reivers.” Major De Spain has the most of these characters, appearing in 12 works including “Delta Autumn,” “The Mansion,” and “The Town.” If nothing else, it’s exciting to see how each of these stories presents a different side of characters and creates a complicated portrait of humanity. Even in something as intimate as “Wash,” he manages to reflect how the Civil War mentally divided characters and how that implication has lasted for decades to follow.
On the whole, “Wash” is among the most esoteric stories that Faulkner has written. Even then, what he’s created is another work that cannot be easily consumed. It requires patience to notice the craft and appreciate how he plays with expectations. By tying a simple tale of intergeneration conflict into something otherworldly, he manages to create the perfect commentary on what he’s been arguing all along. The oppression of women and the foolishness of men to hold onto the past are tragic, but they’re themes as old as time. He treats it with such shocking and sometimes cold actions, but it all makes sense within the greater worldview. It may not be pleasant, but in order to better the world it has to happen. Change is going to come, and it’s important to be on the right side of that debate.
Coming Up Next: “Honor”
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