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 great as it has been to dig into the crate of Faulkner’s work, there is something that’s growing tedious about “Collected Stories.” These are 42 stories that are meant to exemplify the author at his best. Given how little I enjoyed “Fox Hunt,” I was hoping that the next story, “Pennsylvania Station,” would have more of a spark to it. On the one hand, it delivers a more compelling story though does a lot of similar beats in the exact same way. Two characters enter a train to hold a conversation. It’s so vivid and full of these thrilling details that make you want to keep going further into this world. However, it’s once again a somewhat stagnant story because of this. All that’s happening are characters producing monologues that ebb and flow in such a way that you wish something greater would happen.
Which isn’t to say that the conceit isn’t ingenious. To be totally honest, “Pennsylvania Station” as a concept is something I’m surprised Faulkner didn’t do more often. It takes the constraints of a limited time together and produces a ticking clock. The reader isn’t aware of what’s about to transpire, but they still are intrigued by the first few pages. Are they on the run from something or are they tragically meeting their fate? By the second page, there is this question that emerges: “Who is Danny?” Ah yes, therein lies the mystery and something that the remaining story will come to cover as the duo discuss smoking and graves in such a way that feels ominous. Outside is a cold cruel world and, as the answer would suggest, maybe they too are in their own casket.
There is a young and old man. After some cryptic comments, the old man jumps into the conversation about Danny. Up front, he admits that he isn’t a bad guy, but his journeys across America have produced some unfortunate circumstances, having run into problems with lawyers, He was accused of grand larceny and murder. The way that the old man tries to make this all sound like a common occurrence speaks some shadiness to Danny’s character. With occasional interruptions by an employee, the story unfolds almost as if in confidence. These strangers may never meet again, and yet there is a trust that this will not be shared, as if taken to a grave.
The part of the story that gets more interesting is the involvement of Sister. While Danny has taken up a lot of the early sections, she is the one whose story becomes the most riveting. She is faithful, wanting to do her best as a widow. This meant having to find a reasonable way to pay for a coffin. It wasn’t so simple and, through a means that is convoluted, she determines that the annual fee is sustainable so long as the person she’s buying from dies before her. With a gold-plated surface, there is plenty to wonder about why this penny-pinching triviality will matter in the long run, leaving concern for how the final burial will take place.
From there the story goes back and forth between these two narratives which are essentially about fate. Danny seems destined to be six feet underground since the lawyer isn’t doing him much justice. Meanwhile, Sister is attracting attention as Mrs. Zilich comes to find her actions suspicious. It’s curious to see everyone so worked up over a coffin, and yet Sister’s sacrifice suggests that there’s a greater value, like she’s creating something that will summate her life choices. She puts so much money into death and the dead-end trial of Danny that one has to wonder what the futility is all for. Why is this story even being told?
The story ends with the widow dying. A priest was there doing last rights. As the old man notes that she didn’t recognize him, there’s some concern that this story might not have a happy ending. Danny never got to see her, but claims in a final transaction that he’s all right in jail. It’s morose as they come to a stop. It’s still snowing outside. The final line “Then it will be only two hours more till daylight” suggests something mundane yet suggests that what has really happened is something more morbid. Much like “Wash,” Faulkner has basically taken the bible and turned it into everyday behavior. These two men, en route to seeing Danny, may as well be dead.
With that said, an assumption can be made that the reference in a final page paragraph to the young man going to “Grand Central” is not of a train station but of purgatory. There is a sense of looking for judgment and redemption in this decision. It’s fitting given that the final moments of the old man suggest that they will have a long time there. Maybe it just means that the snow is so bad that they will be trapped, but it feels too simple for an author like this. There has to be a greater explanation for why the story ends like it does.
Rereading the opening passages, it becomes clear that Faulkner is obsessed with something about these two men as they enter. Why does it matter so much that “They seemed to bring with them the smell of the snow falling in Seventh Avenue.”? I think the clues are better suited to the next few sentences where they talk about inhaling and exhaling and that there was a “stale chill.” From the beginning, it appears to be something more akin to protection from the cruel weather outside, but it could also just be that they’re being buried in it. Given that the old man seems to be concerned that not enough people have shown up, it leaves one to wonder why he cares so much about the capacity of mass transit so much.
In this regard, Faulkner is using an interesting set of layers that slowly finds the characters getting to the core of the theme. There is the snow, whose harshness could kill a man for simply being outside too long. There is the train, which begins to feel like a ghost car that carries lost souls to their final destination. Grand Central, a place known for hustle and bustle, suggests that what the reader has witnessed is the calm before the storm.
Now add in the layers of Danny having his own demise and Sister dying, and suddenly it begins to make sense. The coffin that takes up so much of the conversation is providing a metaphor for their lives. Everything has futility to it that makes one wonder why anyone puts effort into their work. Maybe the cigarettes represent a life escaping the body, as if being fumigated. What is supposed to keep one warm is also harming their endurance. The employee constantly yelling might as well be that reminder that everyone must pay this price eventually.
There’s not enough clarity on why either man is here or why they matter, but they drive the story. Much like the author’s oeuvre, he has a knack for finding a narrator who is just enough removed from the action that they feel observational like the audience. It makes one feel connected to the old man, making him seem more real and familiar. While it would’ve been much more compelling to tell the story from Sister or Danny’s perspective akin to “Dr. Martino,” this approach helps to make the coffin metaphor slide perfectly into place.
With that said, “The Middle Ground” section has been gradually becoming the least successful section of “Collected Stories” for me. While it starts with the highs of “Wash,” the reality is that these stories exist narratively outside of what has been seen before. The gimmicks he has used to propel story are here, but they’re not done in ways that are conventional. “Pennsylvania Station" exists in this ambiguous atmosphere, where something feels cryptic enough that the reader has to figure out what’s going on. As a result, the everyday feels more spectacular and arguably more morbid. With that said, “Pennsylvania Station” being a metaphor for life and death doesn’t work as well as another snow-centric short story (James Joyce’s “The Dead”) in conveying characters that feel endearing beyond the page.
For what it’s worth, “Pennsylvania Station” is clever enough to make the reader question what is going on and think hard about the richer symbolism. However, there’s little that makes this feel essential otherwise, leaving behind a story about two people talking about two people dying in their own ways. It’s haunting at a point, sure, but Faulkner has done far better at conveying such universal experiences with more emotional gravitas. It’s one of the better stories covered in “The Middle Ground,” but it’s still low on the list of great stories included in this anthology. Here’s hoping the next stop has a more exciting yarn to unravel.
Coming Up Next: “Artist at Home”
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