My final read for my Summer of Faulkner is one a panel of judges in 2009 called the best Southern novel of all time (one scholar called it “the only serious rival to Melville’s Moby-Dick as the great American novel”—and well, I hated that book so I call into question this entire panel.) But I do get that Absalom, Absalom! explores the complex structure of the South—class, race, tradition—in an notably comprehensive way.
The novel tells the story of the rise and (because it’s Faulkner) inevitable fall of Thomas Sutpen, a white man who starts out poor with ambitions of
power and wealth. He lives a complicated life, with past indiscretions casting
shadows on his present circumstances. And his prior sins come back to haunt not
only him, but his children. The whole thing is like a Shakespearean tragedy, if
I’m being honest, with twists and violence and no way to a happy ending for,
really, anyone.
Like the other novels I read this summer, Absalom, Absalom! (titled after the Biblical story of King David and his wayward son) addresses the decline of plantation culture, the evils of slavery, and sexual misconduct. And the novel is often lauded for its method of—you guessed it, multiple narrators. But for me, this time the method was a problem. Every narrator is both reliable and unreliable to some degree—the point being that this is how history is relayed. Sutpen’s “story” is recounted in flashbacks narrated by Quentin Compson, who got his information from a variety of sources/other narrators. There are layers upon layers as to what is “true.” And for me, the storytelling method was too cumbersome, too convoluted, and in the end, weighed down the overall effect.
Who knows—maybe I have Faulkner fatigue. I’ll allow that I didn’t read this last novel on a vacation but rather, during my regular, busy life. At times, it was a struggle to read (and don’t get me started on the almost-forty consecutive pages of italics in the middle of the book). Of course, it’s still Faulkner and there were many moments of brilliance and enough to keep me plodding along. Perhaps I’ll file Absalom, Absalom! in the “Give Another Chance” column, for sometime down the road.
And that’s a wrap on my Summer of Faulkner. Usually, I have
some idea of what I’d like to do for the next summer, but I haven't
really considered. I may do another author—I liked immersing myself in a single
writer’s voice. Or maybe some other theme will hit me. In the meantime, I don't think I'm finished with Faulkner. I intend to read a few more over the non-summer months. He really is an incomparable writer.
