William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury

Let me begin by saying that a part of me (albeit, a lazy part) did not even want to review this book. Why? Because it is deep. It is exhaustingly full, overwhelmingly profound, and unbelievably complex. Think of the Harry Potter series - that is, remember how intricate the seven-book-series plot was. Now condense the very genius of it into three hundred thirty-five pages (all magic and fantasy elements aside).

Now multiply that condensed-Harry-Potter-complexity-genius to the tenth power. Is your mind blown yet? Mine is.

I cannot possibly give this book its due by reviewing it, so please keep that in mind as you read this review or take on the challenge of reading it yourself. Also, know that it contains spoilers. I actually had to look up the book’s plot on Spark Notes before I could figure out what was going on in chapter one. So, I don’t think the spoilers will actually spoil anything for you. 

The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner is just one of the numerous books the Mississippi native wrote in order to explore what he called, “the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself.” It has been possibly the most challenging read I have ever come across, even to the point of rivaling Dostoevsky’s The Brother’s Karamazov, which was a painful experience up until the epilogue. However, it was difficult for very different reasons. The former, set in 1928, then 1910, then 1928 again for the final two chapters, was challenging in its format and complexity, where as Dostoevsky’s was challenging because I hated most of the characters and plot (again, up until the epilogue which sort of justified the rest of the book for me). 

The book was written during the 1920’s-1930’s eugenics movement in the United States, in which steps were taken to sterilize (and therefore rid the earth of) anyone who exhibited any of a long list of so-called “defects” (including such ridiculous “traits” as shiftlessness, suspected inbreeding, feeblemindedness, and an inherited tendency toward criminality). This is when Faulkner chose to begin his masterpiece from the perspective of a severely mentally challenged man named Benjy. Is it any wonder that Faulkner won the Nobel Prize? I think not.

The author uses words to powerfully and artistically convey the perspectives of four of its main characters: Benjy (aka Maury), Quentin, Jason, and Dilsey. The first was written from the perspective of thirty-three year old, mentally challenged Benjy, who paints us a picture through blurred flashes of memory, mixing up the chronology of events and imbuing the world with an unspeakable poignancy. Let me just say that my heart was heavy throughout that chapter. It is like writing a book using water colors- or looking at a Monet (or, at times, even something abstract) instead of a photograph. It was pure emotion and experience. I found myself rereading again and again just to make sense of what was going on.

Next, we jump back in time to 1910 from the perspective of Benjy’s older brother Quentin, just before he drowns himself while at school at Harvard. His voice is at times scarcely easier to understand than Benjy’s, as he copes with the emotional turmoil of his obsession with their sister Caddy and her heartbreaking life decisions. To put it simply, the sister he was so close to during his childhood decides to abandon purity and begins sleeping around. The very thought of this nearly drives Quentin insane. This chapter also brought back much of the stream-of-consciousness charm (and compelling genius) that we saw in Absolom, Absolom! which was also told largely from the perspective of Quentin Compson to his roommate Shreve while at Harvard.

Next, we jump forward to return to 1928 from the voice of the easy-to-hate Compson brother, Jason. He is racist, prejudice, bitter to the point of blindness, deceitful, and selfish, among other things. He, too, has been profoundly affected by their enigmatic sister, Caddy, and some of the awful decisions she has made. He takes out his rage on the only person he can, Caddy’s illegitimate daughter, named Quentin after their brother, who is left to live with Jason, his mother, Benjy, and the household of slaves. 

Finally, we get to the final chapter, which focuses on Dilsey, the faithful and God-fearing slave who practically raises the Compson children and takes care of the entire household. However, it isn’t told from her voice, but from a third person perspective. And it is in this chapter that Faulkner’s writing technique really takes flight into some of the most eloquent prose I have ever read. 

Looking back, it was a kind of progression in writing styles from the least coherent to the most eloquent. And yet, the title for the story comes from a portion of Macbeth Act V, Scene V, which draws our attention back to Benjy.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 

To the last syllable of recorded time, 

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle. 

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player 

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale 

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

           (V.v.18–27)

Caddy is a character who must be remarked upon, as everything and everyone else in the story seems to revolve around her, her decisions, her compassion, her selfishness. Indeed, it could be argued that she is the primary reason for the very falling of the once lofty Compson family, as we see the very unraveling of the family take place in this novel. Caddy is the mother figure in spite of her hypochondriac mother’s constant presence in the story. She protects and pours out her affection into Benjy, and she is the root of all hatred in the heart of embittered Jason. She is the common denominator in the scattered, profuse outpouring of consciousness in Quentin’s last thoughts before he takes his own life. And yet she is perhaps a character foil to Dilsey, who lovingly and persistently cares for the entire Compson family (another mother figure), faithfully serves those who care little for her, and takes Benjy to church where she has a profound spiritual encounter with the Lord. Dilsey, not Caddy, is the true hero of the story. While everyone obsesses over the troubled, passionately loved and passionately hated girl, the faithful slave presses onward and commands the readers’ greatest respect and admiration. 

There is also a progression of sorts in chronology, as the book begins on the Saturday before Easter, symbolizing when Christ was still in the tomb, and ends on Easter Sunday, celebrating His resurrection. There are also many references to this resurrection theme which I will not even go into. Let me reiterate: this book is what it is cracked up to be. It is Nobel Prize worthy. It makes me want to go take a nap just thinking about it. 

Finally, I must remark upon the appendix to the novel. Faulkner himself noted that it is, “the key to the whole book.” So, you can’t really get away from reading the appendix. And he is absolutely right. The appendix brings everything together beautifully.

And now, to really whet your appetite for a hot cup of tea and a slow, patient reading of the text, here are a few of my favorite excerpts:

“The street lamps go down the hill then heard the car go down the hill. The chair-arm flat cool smooth under my forehead shaping the chair the apple tree leaning on my hair above the eden clothes by the nose seen  “ pg 108, chapter 2

“The lane went between back premises-unpainted houses with more of those gay and startling colored garments on lines, a barn broken-backed, decaying quietly among rank orchard trees, unpruned and weed-choked, pink and white and murmurous with sunlight and with bees.” pg 128, chapter 2

“The day dawned bleak and chill, a moving wall of gray light out of the northeast which, instead of dissolving into moisture, seemed to disintegrate into minute and venomous particles, like dust that, when Dilsey opened the door of the cabin and emerged, needled laterally into her flesh, precipitating not so much a moisture as a substance partaking of the quality of thin, not quite congealed oil. She wore a stiff black straw hat perched upon her turban, and a maroon velvet cape with a border of mangy and anonymous fur above a dress of purple silk, and she stood in the door for awhile with her myriad and sunken face lifted to the weather, and one gaunt hand flac-soled as the belly of a fish, then she moved the cape aside and examined the bosom of her gown.”

pg 255, chapter 4

That is my ridiculously long, and yet no where near exhaustive, take on Faulkner’s masterpiece. It is a book that will probably only get better with subsequent readings. So if you haven’t read it yet, then stop putting it off. It is well worth the challenge.

What is the most challenging book you have read?

Natasha W.