Leí esta novela hace tres años, y parece que ya ha pasado toda una vida.Una mañana, uno de mis mejores amigos llegó a la facultad con los ojos como platos y el pulso tembloroso a pedirme que lo hiciera. Me la tendía llena de dobleces, tachones y ceniza, como el carnet de un ex-convicto. Estaba de...
The Compson family, Benji a man of innocence has kin of ignorance and self-centeredness, they will have terrible awakenings in this story this family tragedy of an American household, the fall of the Compsons during the era of the 1910-1930's.This novel was published in a turbulent time when Amer...
Absalom, Absalom!--William Faulkner's Novel of the Death of the Old SouthConsidered by many Faulkner scholars to be his masterpiece, Absalom, Absalom! was read by goodreads group "On the Southern Literary Trail" in April, 2012. And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the ga...
Light in August, William Faulkner's Portraits of Loneliness and Isolation Light in August, First Edition, Smith & Haas, New York, New York, 1032"Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders." William Faulkner, "Light in August," Chap...
There were many moments of pleasure reading this collection, but Faulkner's style makes you work for those moments. His descriptions, his compaction of a person's or a place's history into one very long sentence, his changing of nouns into adjectives and vice versa, all that you expect of Faulkn...
“It was too late. Maybe yesterday, while I was still a child, but not now. I knew too much, had seen too much, I was a child no longer now; innocence and childhood were forever lost, forever gone from me.” Lucius Priest is almost proud of his innocence, an innocence that is easy to maintain as lo...
A largely overlooked semi-masterpieceThis was one of the easiest and most pleasant books by William Faulkner that I have ever read. It contains the typically unforgettable, i.e. singular Faulknerian characters, is influenced heavily by Joyce's emphasis on sexual themes, and features some of the m...
Big Woods is a collection of Faulkner's best hunting stories. An avid hunter as well as one of America's greatest writers, Faulkner spent many days hunting in the big woods near Oxford, Mississippi.Included here is his most famous hunting story, "The Bear", as well as "The Old People", "A Bear Hu...
I believe that my personal preference with regard to novels is toward those which possess such an intricately-structured chaos that ultimately make sense by the end of the novel. Looking back, I think that Absalom, Absalom! is my most favourite novel because of how it ties the loose ends so well ...
Faulkner’s most famous, most popular, and most anthologized short story, “A Rose for Emily” evokes the terms Southern gothic and grotesque, two types of literature in which the general tone is one of gloom, terror, and understated violence. Quotes from the book: “For a long while we just stood th...
Though not as accomplished as his later novels, Soldiers' Pay still has moments of revelation, which reveal Faulkner willing to bend language to get at a feeling."They greeted him with the effusiveness of people who are brought together by invitation yet are not quite certain of themselves and of...
The following review has been copied from http://behnamriahi.tumblr.comRequiem for a Nun, written by William Faulkner and published by Vintage Books, is a three-act play following the life of Temple Stevens (formally Temple Drake in Sanctuary) in her recovery following the murder of her second ch...
In June of this year I wrote a piece on my Ana the Imp blog marking the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of Harper Lee’s novel To Kill a Mockingbird, high among the greats of modern American literature. At the time another blogger suggested that there might be some similarities here with t...
Poems
It was just after supper. I had just opened my Coke on the table beneath the lamp; I heard Professor Wilkins’ feet in the hall and then the instant of silence as he put his hand to the door knob, and I should have known. People talk glibly of presentiment, but I had none. I heard his feet on the ...
Hung on the wall, it could have been his epitaph, like a Bertillon chart or a police poster; any cop in north Mississippi would have arrested him out of any crowd after merely reading the date.It was Saturday morning, about ten oclock. We—your great-grandfather and I—were in the office, Father si...
And at last he had no shadow at all. His heavy shapeless shoes were gray in the dusty road, his overalls were gray with dust: dust was like a benediction upon him and upon the day of labor behind him. He did not recall the falling of slain wheat and his muscles had forgotten the heave and thrust ...
One of them was about twenty-five, tall, lean, flat-stomached, with a sunburned face and Indian-black hair and pale, china-colored, outraged eyes—an outrage directed not at the men who had foiled his crime, not even at the lawyers and judges who had sent him here, but at the writers, the uncorpor...
It was the taxi which he used to go out to his sister’s. “I’ll give you a ride, this time,” the driver said. “Much obliged,” Horace said. He got in. When the car entered the square, the court-house clock said only twenty minutes past eight, yet there was no light in the hotel room window. “Maybe ...
He was thirteen then. He had killed his buck and Sam Fathers had marked his face with the hot blood, and in the next November he killed a bear. But before that accolade he had become as competent in the woods as many grown men with the same experience. By now he was a better woodsman than most gr...
Across the tight clotting of descending and ascending passengers the sound of his spoken name reached him, and he roved his distraught gaze like a somnambulist rousing to avoid traffic, about the agglomerate faces. “Hello, hello,” he said, then he thrust himself clear and laid his bags and parcel...
A pewter bowl of lilies in the roomSeems to him to weigh and change the gloomInto a palpable substance he can feelHeavily on his hands, slowing the wheelThe firelight steadily turns upon the ceiling. The firelight steadily hums, steadily wheelingUntil his brain, stretched and taut...
He went upstairs to his room. He went to bed too, taking off the uniform, ‘shedding the brown’ as the Corps called it. Because this was Thursday, and the battalion always drilled on Thursday. And he was not only cadet lieutenant colonel this year, but nobody ever missed drill because, although th...