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.
Of the 33 stories that precede “Golden Land,” one thing unifies them. They are all set in the eastern United States. While some have ventured over into the Midwest, most of Faulkner’s work has emphasized his relationship to his home state of Mississippi. Even the previous entry “Grandmother Millard” expands its history across several wars and generations in a manner that builds his own mythology. And yet, there is another piece of the author’s mythology that is not as recognized. As much as he is praised for his literary skills, not enough attention has been paid attention to the time he went to Hollywood and essentially became buddies with director Howard Hawks. While it’s more likely that his books would get adapted in this day and age, there was a point where he took to the typewriter to churn out screenplays adapting the likes of Raymond Chandler and Ernest Hemmingway. He was one of the rare author-turned-screenwriters who actually made films that stood on their own. Some could argue that it was because of how well he played with perspective in his stories, but I’ll get into that later.
For now, let’s focus on “Golden Land,” the short story that stands out in this entire collection for one major reason. It’s the only story he wrote set in Hollywood, CA, and also one that paints a more damning portrait of the industry than one would assume based on his legacy. Even then, Faulkner was known to call the city “the plastic asshole of the world” and could suggest that it was a largely immoral place. Given that he was an outsider who found solace elsewhere, notably in various clubs he had in Mississippi, it’s interesting to wonder whether he actually enjoyed California despite all of this slander, or if this is just another short story full of objectionable characters for the sake of dramatic tension?
One of the most noticeable details going into the prose is how it’s designed like a noir. Given that it was a film genre largely located on the west coast, it makes sense to open with an ambiguity that leaves the reader confused. Even then, the opening line is striking, where suggesting that if the protagonist was 30 he would find a cocktail of pills and booze to get him back up. Instead, he’s stumbling around in a hangover. He’s an old man whose empire seems to have crumbled. This section is also defined by how every sentence is extemporaneous, as if compensating for itself with too much detail. Faulkner knows how to pack each line with a brilliant use of language, but it all becomes overwhelming, wanting to slow down and create a less scattershot portrait. Even then, there’s a mix of mystery within these details as things like a newspaper and location come into focus. The story as a whole goes many pages before the characters even talk.
In general, I love what this section is trying to do because it works as a literary hangover, where the reader is processing the mundane act in ways akin to the character. As everything comes more into focus, things move from auditory into visuals and suddenly it becomes clear that this is some type of wasteland. It’s an apartment of a big celebrity who has made it in Hollywood, living in a fantastic home, Had this been written by someone more sentimental to an American Dream motif, this would be the ending, where everyone ends their story happy. Instead, there is a blur, a dissatisfaction with what came before and, quite frankly, a bigger animosity for what lay ahead. Before really establishing a character, Faulkner has created a sense of regret, whose very use of language is reflective of buyer’s remorse. Whereas he’s able to creatively turn Yoknapatawpha County into this wondrous land of potential even amid decay, Hollywood is a golden land limited by its own advertising.
To be honest, I’m sure this story played better around its publication in the 1930s where a real estate tycoon’s corruption is seen as a terrible loss of self, but in the 21st century, it feels too old hat. Maybe it’s because this does feel like Faulkner trying to do a noir tale immersed entirely in a trashed-up mansion. He definitely gets the soap elements right, but overall one has to wonder what his greater point is but to reflect a Mississippian perspective that seems to be true in almost every story of a California outsider: Hollywood is a moral sewer. This is the land of tarnished dreams, where creating fantasy doesn’t lead to any satisfying reality. People sacrifice their moral ethics here, and that is the extent of the piece. Many have done it better, though outside of literary skill one has to wonder what Faulkner is really bringing to this narrative.
It could also just be that the times have changed and what is written as controversial here isn’t all that shocking. For example, the protagonist’s daughter has an active sex life that lands her on the front page of newspapers reading “Starlet Bares Orgy Secrets.” There’s also his son, whom he beats when discovering that he’s a cross-dresser (Faulkner even alludes to a homosexual slur). It’s clear that this is a more conservative time, where sex is frowned upon and any sexual deviance is kiboshed. Maybe it’s in line with The Hayes Code, where decency and moral purity are encouraged. The need to present a great image of self is necessary, and this is going to hurt the real estate tycoon because, for some reason, it makes his family look dysfunctional.
Then again, which one of Faulkner’s families is normal? As an artist obsessed with showing how generations pass on their values, it makes sense to tap into the absolute worst tendencies. While it’s not necessarily new for a Hollywood narrative, it does make sense as a shame for his children to ruin his image with profane behavior. The difference is that where he’s often obsessed with Confederate values, here it’s Christian ones. Even to compare it to “Red Leaves,” there is an awareness of how each subsequent generation has degenerated over the years, leaving a less optimistic view of the future. Given that there are trials and he’s blaming the Filipino maid for crimes, there is a desperation to hold onto the image he has crafted, but what exactly is there worth salvaging at this point?
“Golden Land” could be seen as an ironic name. California is commonly known as The Golden State and is seen as the land of opportunity, so it becomes ironic that noir paints it as a place of corruption. Faulkner isn’t exactly adding anything new to that perspective, but it’s interesting to see how he does it. There’s an intimacy here, where he’s as enraptured with the characters as he is with the materialism around them. The things that are supposed to bring them joy ultimately create misery, so what was all of this prosperity supposed to provide?
To shift back a little, this story becomes confusing when considering that Faulkner is a legitimate screenwriter who actually has films that withstand the test of time. Most others like Joan Didion or F. Scott Fitzgerald have tried the transition, but they haven’t met the consistency with which Faulkner took to making pictures that we still talk about. There’s of course The Big Sleep (1946) and To Have and Have Not (1945). He also has a storied career with Howard Hawks that lasted decades and at one point was said to guarantee a film $2 million in funding. He was also known to frequent Musso-Franks Grill where he fraternized with other creatives and was considered to be one of the few significant restaurants in California. It had what he loved: history.
Another interesting side note of his time in Hollywood is that Faulkner met the love of his life. Even if he had married Estelle Oldham, known for her lavish spending habits, he found another woman whom he would be with for the rest of his life. He met Meta Carpenter, who was also from Mississippi, and this lead to a torrid affair. There was a sense that Meta loved his work while Estelle had grown disinterested in him. Attempts to transition between the relationships were rocky. Still, given that Meta married him prior to any Hollywood success when he had limited funds, there was a sense that she loved him for reasons other than money laundering.
This all could explain why Faulkner always felt like an outsider. While he had an impressive work regiment that gained him small success, he mostly started as a way to pay bills and survive. Even then, there was little about the city that actually appealed to him and he often went back east with Hawks to go on adventures. Given how “Golden Land” paints Hollywood as a land without culture or history, it makes sense that he would be so critical of its lack of morality. It feels so hollow, unable to fully connect with his more ambitious spirits.
A small detail that is also interesting is that there was an unfinished manuscript called Battle Cry. He would write the character names based on what actors he wanted to cast, which included Henry Fonda and Reagan. So “Fonda” and “Reagan” would appear throughout history in these small moments. At 143 pages, he discussed a story not unlike “Grandmother Millard” that included scenes in Dunkirk, France, and paid tribute to Abraham Lincoln. It was a journey through history that was maybe too expansive. Even as his writing career was taking off, it was interesting to see this project fail to even be edited into a working draft. However, this wouldn’t be the end of the story. When he was president, Daniel Brodsky would give Reagan a personalized copy of the unpublished script. Reagan was surprised to know Faulkner wrote a film for him, which he took great honor in. With that said, Faulkner’s adaptation of Stallion Road (1947) would feature Reagan in the lead role.
There’s plenty to love about “Golden Land” when judged against the rest of “Collected Stories.” While most of these stories can give allusions to his personal life back home, there is something singular about this project. It’s the only time a reader has a glimpse into how he saw California, which is ultimately a cynical and soulless experience. Even if he does an amazing job of creating atmosphere, nothing he’s saying is necessarily revolutionary. The best that can be said is that for a man obsessed with history, it’s interesting to see him explore a land that feels absent of it. There’s always a need for California to feel new, as if the past is always shameful. Given that the protagonist becomes bitter and has morally corrupt children, it’s easy to see Faulkner suggesting the downsides of Hollywood. It’s salacious and shocking in ways that he usually isn’t and that’s rewarding. Still, was his time in Hollywood as bad as this story makes it out to be? Given that he also sees The Big Sleep, his arguably most popular work, as more of a paycheck, it could just be that he was a busybody who loved work. More importantly, he needed it to survive. While he found love out there, it probably wasn’t for anything he got on a marquee.
Coming Up Next: “There Was a Queen”
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