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 into “The Middle Ground” section, it’s starting to become clear that unlike the other sections, this exists in the world of something more abstract. While the greater narratives so far haven’t had a greater connective tissue, there’s something to how they’re established that makes them more ambiguous, reflecting a writer creatively playing with symbolism and motifs. With “Dr. Martino,” he manages to do the unthinkable by turning a park bench and a stationary character into the most important pieces in an active narrative. For a lot of the story, it’s not entirely clear why Dr. Martino is the titular character, especially as it follows Hubert Jarrod’s quest to win the hand of Louise from her mother Mrs. King. What does this old man have to do with the greater achievements of the final line that ranks among Faulkner’s absolute best?
Starting at the beginning, the playfulness of the author’s language is present from the very beginning. Jarrod is at a Christmas house party in Saint Louis, MO. He is a Yale man who is talking to people about oil wells. His love interest is someone who looks like they were born and bred in a Mississippi swamp, which he doesn’t take as a sex appeal thing. It’s not entirely clear what makes her different, but it’s enough to draw conversation. Also, it has to be more than coincidental that Faulkner would name her Louise and have Jarrod meet her in Saint Louis, suggesting something more spiritual is about to happen.
While he has ventured outside of Yoknapatawpha County in the past, one would be forgiven for wondering why the prominent opening scene takes place away from his central hub. What is to be said about these wayward travelers holding small talk that amounts to very little? “Dr. Martino” begins as a story about the one who got away, cleverly introducing the supporting cast in passing conversation, creating a sense of gossip that alludes to Louise’s character throughout. She is as much driven by her own agency as she is by the image Martino has crafted, Mrs. King has controlled, and the proprietress can only comment on from a safe distance. Nobody fully understands Louise though everybody has watched her. In the case of Martino, he’s done so since she was a child.
The meat of the story takes place at a resort. Given that Louise likes to travel, the fact that she chooses to spend her summers there comes across as important. What goes on here that brings out some sense of comfort? Jarrod’s inciting incident comes when he receives a letter where Louise asks him to join her at the resort. It’s here that he befriends the proprietress and learns some key things. Mrs. King “is a fool” as she claims, meaning that she holds Louise back from any sense of happiness. With that said, there is an interesting juxtaposition that makes the title suddenly ring very clear.
There is a point where Louise makes the claim “When you are afraid to do something you know that you are alive. But when you are afraid to do what you are afraid of you are dead.” Having learned that from Martino, suddenly her life becomes a paradox that one can’t help but poke holes in.
It starts with an infamous story that the proprietress shares regarding Louise going for a swim in the river. Despite being afraid of water and supposed snakes that lay at the bottom, she did it. Why? Martino was the one who would tell her to overcome her fears. She needs to feel alive, and that comes with taking risks. It’s a motif that returns when she is asked to kill a horse who, as others claim, has killed a man. There is something thrilling about Louise in this manner, though what becomes clear is that despite her extroverted tendencies, she is ultimately too afraid to take the risk of getting married. She’s called upon Jarrod to try and be her knight in shining armor. Given that the story feels reminiscent of The Brothers Grimm’s Rapunzel tale (a mother locks her daughter in a tower) down to the wicked mother being a “King,” it works as this southern gothic fairytale through the lens of early 20th century polite society.
But why focus so much on Martino? He seemingly doesn’t impact the plot in the slightest and yet becomes the focal point for a variety of reasons. There’s “Dr. Martino’s bench” where he has been sitting for most of his autumn years, watching Louise grow into a woman and find her independence. He is the only one who is supportive of her and, unlike stories like “Hair,” the age gap isn’t treated as some predatory commentary on insecure aging men. He’s simply a grandfather figure who wants the best for her. The reader doesn’t fully know why, but it could just be that he’s kindhearted. If there’s anyone the reader knows less than Louise, it’s him as he’s only discussed as a central focal point to the central figure.
In one of Faulkner’s more obtuse symbols, he also makes a big deal about Martino’s heart. While not as esoteric as “Wash,” the idea that Martino is an aging heart surgeon whose health is failing parallels Louise’s perfectly. It is like he is feeding off of her vibrancy and youth, feeling his heart beating for her and her alone. It could be that she hasn’t settled on a suitor, but he’s there to see the happy ending and presumably does. There is optimism and hope, if just because it’s the final fear she needs to break. She needs to rid herself of Mrs. King and experience life for herself. When it’s announced that he’s passed, it suggests that it finally happened. It’s a beautiful moment and one that reflects Faulkner’s gift for subtly revealing major plot twists in adjacent details.
If there’s one thing to admire about “Dr. Martino,” it’s the idea of using symbolism to reflect its themes. The idea of complacency versus risk-taking is on display perfectly by the presence of the bench. Most would sit there and watch the world pass by, but what are they going to do about making their life meaningful? Martino offered advice for others to take risks while not doing any. Mrs. King was afraid of risks as well and it ultimately makes her resentful of progress and the potential for Louise to live a happy life. Most women in Faulkner’s stories, she appears to be the answer to the future. Whoever controls her will get to write the narrative on what traditions continue. Is it going to be Mrs. King who doesn’t want to have the social life her daughter does, or will it be Jarrod the Yale Man who clearly has some aspirations? While this isn’t necessarily keeping in line with Faulkner’s obsession with The Antebellum South, it’s enough to show how stagnation can hurt a person, making their heart grow weak.
As a reading experience, this is another colorful tale with some delicately placed imagery that has a satisfying payoff in the concluding pages. Every character is used effectively to show how narratives can shape how readers see others, notably Louise, and convince them whether or not taking the risks are objectively a good thing. Even if it grows tedious in the third act and the ending falls into something a tad predictable, the results are one of Faulkner’s most creative works in “Collected Stories” so far, showing that he’s capable of tapping into iconography and making readers see it in new ways. The resort may as well be a crossroads for Louise, another stagnant place that contradicts her risk-taking reputation. Why does she keep coming back here? What is so comfortable? Maybe Martino is purgatory, especially as his quote emphasizes the difference between being alive and dead.
Among the tangential details available on “Dr. Martino” is that it was published originally in the anthology “Doctor Martino and Other Stories,” which was released in 1934. It was also published roughly three years after “These Thirteen” and received mixed reviews upon the time of release. Even then, “Dr. Martino” ranks as one of the more underappreciated works in his collection just because it presents a slightly more complicated narrative that sees him using motifs very well to convey a struggle of a life well lived. It may not be heroic or feature antagonists that are worse than dirt, but there’s humanity and mystery that sells a compelling story. If this is what “The Middle-Ground” wants to go for, then it’s going to be a great time.
As a secondary work, “Dr. Martino” is a perplexing work that feels ripe for analysis. As the story of two wayward travelers learning to run away with each other, it presents the methodical nature of learning to take risks and the fear that comes with stagnation. It may not attach itself to a richer southern tradition like his other work, but it does enough to present a perspective closer to melodrama and provocation. The results are predictable, but with a healthy dose of Faulkner's prose, it becomes entertaining enough to be memorable, leaving the reader pleased to see him turning the familiar into something ominous and new in ways only he can.
Coming Up Next: “Fox Hunt”
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