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.
At long last, after spending most of “The Middle Ground” reading ambiguously linked stories together, Faulkner has given the reader a chance to play scholar. “My Grandmother Millard and General Bedford Forrest and the Battle of Harrykin Creek” as its full title suggests, is an ever-expanding narrative that finds him playing with the idea of digging up history to bring characters real and fake, old and new to the forefront of “Collected Stories.” For those with attentive eyes, more than a few names will spark a connection to greater Yoknapatawpha work. It may even bring about ties to pieces of history that have fascinated the author for most of this collection. As a work that hearkens back largely to Civil War, it will be easy to notice iconic figures General Robert E. Lee and Ulysses S. Grant and even piece it together as important lore in the greater universe. Given that he’s a family man, those making a family tree would do wise to get out a whole roll of parchment for this one.
While I will not be covering it, many scholars have linked it to another anthology-like story called “The Unvanquished,” which combines seven stories in a manner meant to reflect his interpretation of history. “My Grandmother Millard” is the shorter collection and mostly exists around an old trunk that is buried in the backyard. There is a fun game of seeing how long it takes to dig up and bury it. There’s the mystery of finding the meaning behind everything, and even then it translates to one of the more curious works of Faulkner not so much because of what he says, but how.
He has written many comedies before, but few feel as dense in Southern Gothic tradition and satire to the point of needing additional notes going in. Cousin Mellisandre's journey is ultimately a satire of Civil War novels that have romantic protagonists pining over the cliché variety of things. There is a flamboyance that likely connects to those more knowledgeable about the genre. Similarly, “Cousin Phillip” Backhouse is part of a family of characters whose surname is exactly the joke you’re expecting. Upon publication, Faulkner worried that he would be rejected for making a name reminiscent of toilets. Still, Phillip trying to overcome the shame of the name serves as a functioning tool in the story and makes for a noble attempt to reimagine an embarrassing legacy.
It should also be noted that much like “The Brooch,” Faulkner has an interest in displaying broken clocks. Along with the silver instruments that lay inside the crate, there is a focus on manipulating time to try and make something greater, even though once again it’s difficult to really suggest that good things will come of it. All that she can do is hold onto these memories that span wars and marriages, where it’s important to hold onto an identity that has defined the south. Even as she acknowledges that The Confederate South has lost the war and things have moved on, there are people who are still bitter about it. The effort to change the course of history was a failure, and now these people exist in the company of Grandmother Millard. While practically every character here has an extensive biography on The Digital Yoknapatawpha Project, these are the ones that will get Faulkner fans the most excited.
Millard is the mother-in-law of John Sartoris. He was off fighting for The Yankees as she handled the plantation. There’s several examples of The Sartoris Family fitting into the greater world of the author’s fiction. John is married to Bayard’s Mother, alias Mrs. Sartoris. There’s also Mrs. Compson who is the grandmother of characters in “The Sound and the Fury” and is integral in saving silver from the Union troops who came to Jefferson.
Finally, there is Ab Snopes, who may be the most recognizable name on the list for several reasons. For starters, The Snopes Family was pivotal early on in “Collected Stories,” taking center stage in “Barn Burning.” He is the founding father and the perfect symbol of their rotten luck in the world. When forced to interact with Millard, there’s an inability to be felt as equal to her. As a result, he often enters through a side door since he doesn’t feel respected enough to be greeted traditionally. Nobody who talks about him throughout the story, even family, wouldn't suggest that he's a good man and thus is constantly made the butt of jokes. He steals horses and is known to bother more noble men who are also social classes above him.
These figures interact in a manner essential to building Yoknapatawpha lore. Along with the four wars mentioned throughout the text, “My Grandmother Millard” reflects the only time that Faulkner discusses a major battle taking place within Jefferson County. It helps to establish the sense of community that developed in the rubble afterward and also the various attitudes that remain prominent in them. One doesn’t need to read this story to appreciate those, but it does help to enhance how densely this world is layered with greater historical meaning.
Faulkner has always been fascinated by The Civil War. It could be that as a Mississippi author he has so much attachment to the state's history. Still, what makes this one interesting is his emphasis once again on preservation. Usually, this is done by forcing delusional men to marry women in order to pass on their ideals. However here it’s from the perspective of Millard, who may be holding so much at bay but does so with dominance and control that he rarely allowed others to have. What’s here is the origin story of this belief in a sense, where he’s gathered history into a crate that is buried underneath the land he builds the other stories on. Everything sprouts from that tree, and it’s as vivid and fascinating as anyone would expect.
What I ultimately found in this being one of the longer stories in the collection is something less designed for endearment but more endurance. I am sure there are those who can read “My Grandmother Millard” and appreciate the mix of genres and historical anecdotes. However, for me, the only part that was very interesting was trying to piece together how this all laid the foundation for Yoknapatawpha in the grander scheme. Seeing names like Compson, Sartoris, and Snopes pop up is enough now to make my eyes light up, realizing that there are new details to fit the puzzle together. However, there’s not enough else that makes me love it.
It could be that the length was overlong and that it sometimes didn’t feel connected in a way that was fulfilling. However, as a collection of moments meant to emphasize this society and culture, it’s actually really good. The symbolism of having to constantly dig up the past to try and understand and protect it is crucial to “Collected Stories” so far, and this is the most literal example of it. He tries to hold onto history and does so through families that may not necessarily seem substantial in this text, but will come to something greater further down the line.
As mentioned, this is one of those stories that feature an embarrassingly dense collection of characters. It would be difficult to properly rundown every character in a manner that isn’t just listing a variety of names. The one shared DNA is that a lot of these characters also make an appearance in “The Unvanquished.” Other prominent works include “The Town,” “The Reivers,” and “Absalom! Absalom!” Mrs. Compson does make an appearance in “The Sound and the Fury.” Many, including Ulysses S. Grant, also appear in “Flags in the Dust.” Ab Snopes famously appears in “Barn Burning.” Again, for a thorough listing of what every character is involved with, please consult The Digital Yoknapatawpha Project, which does a great job of connecting the dots in a more efficient manner.
While this has been described as an origin story, this is far from the case in the author’s publishing history. He wrote “My Grandmother Millard” during the late winter of 1942. It was roughly four years after the publication of his novel “The Unvanquished.” It featured first person accounts by Bayard Sartoris of his family’s slaves. The subjects are very similar as both focus on The Civil War and familial struggles. Given that he had a history of publishing stories with these characters in The Saturday Evening Post (back in the Mid-30s), he hoped that they would be kind to him. Given that 1942 was also around when The United States entered World War II, he used “My Grandmother Millard” as “a message for the day” regarding indomitablness. They initially didn’t accept it because of references to backhouses. However, they would eventually print it in March 1943 for $50.
To an extent, this is Faulkner doing what he does best. He has been keen on building his own world of characters and shaping history around it. The results are impressively dense as usual and their ability to span multiple genres and tones only reflect his gifts as a writer. It may not be his most accessible work, but will delight long-time scholars who are always curious to see how he builds a framework. “My Grandmother Millard” is a delightful little tale with impressive symbolism and an effort to make the past come to life in more meaningful ways. Even if this is a piece more meant to connect dots, it’s still essential in understanding why he wrote how he did and in a sense the importance of this greater world. He kept writing new lore until late into his career, and this is one of his most impressively constructed short stories.
Coming Up Next: “Golden Land”
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