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.
While making my way through this collection has been a rewarding experience, there was something underwhelming about coming to the end of “There Was a Queen.” While it is one of the shorter stories of late, there was something underwhelming about its approach. I couldn’t entirely figure out why it felt like every detail washed over me until I visited The Digital Yoknapatawpha Project and did a deep dive into it. While I was quick to notice the significance of The Sartoris Family, there was something missing. I didn’t have the familiar emotional investment that I had in characters who even appeared for a paragraph in this extravagance. It didn’t do anything that made “The Middle Ground” feel enhanced or more importantly made me recognize Faulkner’s genius. I’m not saying everything in “Collected Stories” has been a runaway smash, but something about “There Was a Queen” just didn’t connect with me.
Then it became clear. Even more than “My Grandmother Millard,” this is a story that requires scholarly attention to Faulkner’s greater fiction. Described on the website as “valedictory,” this is a farewell to an era. Given that I haven’t read the major works he had published prior, I maybe missed some of the greater connections. This is especially true of the novels “Flags in the Dust” and “Sanctuary,” where the family goes through various trials and tribulations. There’s sacrifices, deaths, births, and everything that’s grand. I’m sure as a postscript to those novels, this is a sweet little story. For me, being mostly aware of only whatever appearance they’ve made in “Collected Stories,” it’s a bit underwhelming. It’s yet another story that centers around women holding the legacy of family and waiting for the matriarch to symbolically pass. I don’t think Faulkner’s all that concerned with making it a twist this time as the title alludes to past tense.
With that said, it has all of the hallmarks of his work. Starting things off is Elnora, who is part of The Sartoris Family but considers herself to be half-white/half-black. She is thus more indebted to servitude and cooks food for the family. Even if The Civil War is long passed, there’s a sense of loyalty to the past that runs throughout the servant characters. They still think of old Sartoris family members as masters and ultimately feel tied to a past. Elnora’s mixed-race experience also reflects Faulkner’s general interest in exploring the south as a land of division that’s slowly becoming more integrated. Having black and white influence is an effort to make a more unified society, though it’s clear that there’s controversy even then. Elnora may pass as white, but she’s still black, seen as lesser. Things are changing, but not as radically or as quickly as one would desire.
There is of course the central conflict of Aunt Jenny, the titular “Queen” who owns the plantation where the story takes place. While Elnora gives her view of events for the first stretch of the story, there’s an emphasis on how Jenny has escaped a violent situation in order to start anew. She took with her panes of colored glass and flowers, doing what she could to hold onto her identity and pieces of life. Like “Grandmother Millard,” there’s reverence for her because she holds onto pieces of history. Her strength endures into old age, even as her body has been restricted to a wheelchair. There’s the sense that an era will end with her. It’s a bittersweet undertone and one that comes into full effect in the final third.
There’s also Benbow Sartoris, son of Narcissa and Bayard. He is the last of the family line which could symbolize yet another example of how things are coming to an end. Given that Benbow’s name is derived from Narcissa’s maiden name, it’s a sign of passing on a small part of her identity to him. Even then, is it likely that he’ll take over Jenny’s position and keep the legacy alive? It seems a little difficult even as history marches on. They reflect on various figures throughout family history, and they all have a sense of nobility. They have fought in wars and protected this great nation. They are heroes who have fought as recently as World War I. If anything, the passing of Jenny brings with it the death of their memory.
So what does focusing on all of this mean? Much like “My Grandmother Millard,” part of this story’s appeal is that it plays with Yoknapatawpha history, creating a richer mythology that will please attentive fans. While it doesn’t take as many interesting narrative risks, it does plenty to serve as a scrapbook of bittersweet memories, where these figures find ways to endure under any circumstance. They’ve survived the war, bad relationships, and even old age. So much as left them better off and in a stranger position in the 20th century. The weight of the losses is finally catching up with them, so how does Faulkner give them the funeral they deserve? It’s a lot more slight than one would expect. It’s a lingering dread that allows these moments to shine brighter, realizing that they’re slowly fading into obscurity.
I think also allowing the story to be presented from various perspectives creates a question of who controls history. Everyone in that family has some ties to it, and yet Jenny is the one seen as holding all of the answers. It could just be that she was the most in direct of that conflict, but otherwise they all have stories to pass down, creating a sense of history that could last. The issue is that Benbow may not fully be able to retain everything, making it difficult to believe that these conversations will be useful. The further from their epicenter they get, the more likely they are to be obscured, created into something more fantastical. Like Elnora’s mixed race perspective, it'll symbolically become less traditional.
As mentioned earlier, this is a story that I had trouble really connecting with. It could be that “My Grandmother Millard” uses narrative devices far more effectively than here, but it was difficult to feel connected to Faulkner’s exploration of family history. These are all stories that he’s done better even in “Collected Stories,” finding stories of survival and mixed race relationships providing more insightful results. It could just be that putting this story this far into the collection feels like a mistake. Even then, as an example of the author at his best, this feels like one less designed for his exemplary skills and more a sentimental piece meant to show how diligent he is to detail. There’s nothing wrong with that, but as someone who hasn’t read the books this is a sequel to, I’m not sure why certain lineages and relationships matter.
With all of this said, there’s a handful of connections to more immediate stories that are deserving of mention. Colonel Sartoris is a figure who is an old hat at this point, having appeared in “A Rose for Emily,” “Barn Burning,” “My Grandmother Millard,” and “Shall Not Perish.” He’s also a regular in many of Faulkner’s bigger novels. Jenny also appears in “All the Dead Pilots” as well as “The Unvanquished.” Johnny Sartoris also appears in “Ad Astra” and “All the Dead Pilots” along with “Young” Bayard. “Old” Bayard” appears in “A Rose for Emily” and “My Grandmother Millard.” Elnora also appears in “All the Dead Pilots.” As mentioned, many of these characters also appear in “Flags in the Dust” as well as “Sanctuary” among many other novels. Certain aspects of this story, notably around Elnora, will become incorporated into “The Unvanquished.”
The story was said to be written around 1929. He claimed that this would be the last time that The Sartoris Family would be discussed, though they would appear again, albeit in a different direction, in “The Unvanquished.” It is said that he wrote at least three different versions of this story, including one titled “An Empress Passed.” The final version would be published in Scribner’s Magazine in January 1933.
Like most of the entries in “Collected Stories,” I don’t think “There Was a Queen” is necessarily bad. I just think after 34 stories, certain themes begin to feel redundant and there’s difficulty holding onto continuity. While there’s a fondness that I’ve developed for The Sartoris Family, there’s clearly a lot more necessary to appreciate what the supposed final chapter was supposed to symbolize. It’s impressive to see Faulkner play with history and form a story of what legacy and storytelling ultimately mean. With that said, this is all material that I’ve personally noticed him doing better elsewhere. This is a fine story that achieves a nice farewell, but I don’t know that it works without a greater understanding of the world around it. I much prefer “My Grandmother Millard,” if just because of how playful it was. This is just another mix-up of perspectives that is old hat for Faulkner. It’s good, but like the family in question, their best days are behind them.
Coming Up Next: “Mountain Victory”
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