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.
After three stories, certain things have become clear about the “Beyond” section. Whereas you could read every other section as some thematic resonance relating to this mortal coil, Faulkner has chosen to expand his prowess to someplace far away from what is tangible. I think that it was most evident in the first story, where “Beyond” described a purgatory for an unfortunate death. His decision to explore a metaphorical judicial system that exists within all of us is present in “The Leg,” and also serves as maybe the most entertaining of the short run so far. In keeping with “Beyond,” it’s another story of a trial trying to make sense of a very absurd life. It is at times ridiculous but it’s in balance with the sadness underneath. There is not necessarily supposed to be anything funny about attempted murder, and yet this story concludes a respite that, in the tradition of authors like Dante Alighieri, would be called comedy just because it has a happy ending.
When reading “The Leg,” it’s not immediately clear why this limb will matter to the bigger story. The first two words “A boat” immediately set people in a perspective not often seen in this anthology. Floating around the seas, there is a need to dock but the journey to shore is not going all that well. One of the first section’s most enjoyable components is Faulkner’s love of naval language, constantly throwing in minute details about how to sail. With that said, it’s not immediately clear why so many pages are dedicated to this one act. Even if he has a way of making the pages-long journey an engrossing read full of mystery, one has to wonder where things are going. By the time the story shifts to the second section, it’s much less of a predictable outcome than anyone would expect. These are people who would rather discuss the artistic merit of Shakespeare against Marlowe than worry about metaphysical debates on life’s meaning.
And yet in some perverse way, this story slowly shifts into the narrative that “Beyond” has become so transfixed on. What is the value of a life that it can be lost so easily in a boating accident? Why does someone simply become injured with a leg amputation that leaves them disabled with a prosthetic? There’s a lot to unpack within the structure of the story, but what makes this one of Faulkner’s most interesting stories in this section is that there has to be somewhere in these details a greater clue for what happens. Could one man’s life be saved by an act of happenstance, where a prosthetic leg was placed in just the right spot to alarm everyone? It’s amazing how expertly written this story executes the idea of coincidences as if deconstructing the idea of fate as having some grander narrative.
It can also be present in the symbolism of the names. The character Corinthia’s name may or may not be a reference to the biblical chapter Corinthians. Even the choice to set the initial conflict in England along the Thames could reflect difficulty with seeing these conflicts in a new way, reflective of the author’s Yoknapatawpha County setting. There is even a character named Rust whose name means decay. It’s an old world with a lot of history and emphasis on religion. When the characters become injured, they are taken care of by a character known as “The Padre,” who nurses them back to health. As a figure who is supposed to be virtuous, his involvement in a murder plot is ironic, giving another form of the doubt for any one mode of belief around karma. Did anyone deserve to be injured? Is this part of God’s will? Even going back to the literary references, one can argue it’s a further irony that Shakespeare became a timeless icon with a massive portfolio while Marlowe’s fame was subdued and short-lived. Could looking at these two men provide clues as to how the characters see their lives?
This isn’t difficult to believe because throughout the trial, there are constant references to religion. Phrases like “May God have mercy on your soul” are referenced as characters commit heinous actions. Still, the first-person monologue that ends the entire work is maybe the most curious run. Whereas the actions have been set in place and move with a modernity that forces the reader to have an unbiased perspective, it’s in section three that suddenly everything shifts fully into the biased perspective, where suddenly Faulkner removes access to certain details and allows ambiguity. With concern over the death of Simon that took place in the first section, it’s time to determine what constitutes belief.
Who attempted the murder? In the darkness, there are no clear answers nor does anyone fully have the clues necessary to fully understand. Over those final pages, everything emerges with a sense of purpose. The religious subtext is undercut by the sense of need for violent revenge. There needs to be restitution for the sins of the past. It happens so lustfully that it’s a miracle that anyone survived. The Padre interferes and suddenly things aren’t so simple. The color fading, and emphasis on a photograph of Corinthia suggest a deeper symbolism, possibly tying into other sinful behaviors. Suddenly this story is about more than the ratioed logic of “eye for an eye.” This was going beyond an attempt to bring some peace to other matters.
I think what makes the ending of “The Leg” so extraordinary is that it doesn’t go with a satisfying verdict. Nobody is getting an answer on who was trying to murder him, nor is there a cathartic conclusion. All that’s left is “I told him to find it and kill it.” Negotiations are over. Suddenly the language has shifted from the lively beginning to a dreadful darkness, suggesting that any positive light has set in his soul. To have it placed within a conversation with The Padre makes it all the more sinister because it means that he has seen beyond religion and is now acting on primal nature. There is no forgive and forget. Given that his leg has an icy quality, it’s clear that his disappearing body is symbolic of his missing humanity, codifying it into something horrific.
One can argue that the answer to the mystery lies in the pages that came before. I am not entirely sure if Faulkner intended for the answer to be obvious. I think this is best read as something interpretive, asking the audience to determine how they would play judge of this sadistic story. When fate is unplanned, is there any way to justify behavior? The choice to set it in a court system reflects how difficult it all is. Nobody has the answers, and thus any effort to move past it is difficult. While I’m sure that one can walk on a prosthetic, there’s still the reality that it will be a jerky kind of motion, where he won’t be able to be as mobile or lack the codependence that he once did. Maybe there’s bitterness with becoming disabled that overwhelms him.
As a whole, “Beyond” has continued to be one of the more interesting sections that the author has created if for no other reason than its shared ambiguity. They all have an underlying tragedy alongside comedy, reflecting some greater commentary on life’s confusing patterns. While “Black Music” is the only one to be more emotional than thought-provoking, there’s still a giant punch that comes with the realization that the protagonist missed on life because of his foolishness. In “The Leg,” there’s that sense again, but it also comes with the reality that he’s haunted by one man’s death to the point that it keeps attacking him in different ways. It’s unlikely that he’d ever be able to recover. Even with the help of The Padre, he will be doubtful of a life beyond his turmoil.
I think “The Leg” is another solid entry in the “Beyond” section, finding Faulkner continuing to push the boundaries of what his prose can hope to achieve. He manages to capture an event that feels cut and dry, but has so much thought behind every action. It slowly sinks in that these acts have greater consequences that will never go away. With the absence of a limb, life becomes something much more challenging. The need for codependence is evident, but what happens when you don’t have anyone to trust? The answer, like everything else here, can be assumed but never confidently answered. An issue will arise somewhere, and one has to hope that they have the right people by their side to pull them away from disaster.
Coming Up Next: “Mistral”
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