In the early days of July 1962, the 37-year-old William Styron travels, on behalf of the magazine "Life", to Oxford, Mississippi to write a report on the funeral of the Voice of the United States of America. A few years earlier, in 1951, Styron publishes the greatest homage ever paid to the Voice of the United States of America. In fact, "Lie Down in Darkness" shouts "The Sound and the Fury" in all its 500 pages but it is a different novel.

The final stream of consciousness is instead a homage to Joyce.

The novel begins in medias res, the main event has already happened, the story (the chronologically most recent one) tells only one day, the day of a funeral, and the rest are flashbacks.

He is awarded a Pulitzer for this novel.

This work not only showcases Styron's remarkable literary talent but also his deep understanding and exploration of human nature and complex emotions. The use of different narrative techniques, such as the stream of consciousness and flashbacks, adds depth and richness to the story, making it a truly engaging and thought-provoking read.

The Pulitzer Prize is a well-deserved recognition of Styron's outstanding contribution to the field of literature.

This 1951 novel by William Styron, which won several literary awards, is a captivating tale.

It delves into the dysfunctional Loftis family, exploring their betrayals, infidelities, and the disappointed love that leads to the tragic suicide of their daughter Peyton.

The story unfolds as the family accompanies her body to the cemetery, revealing the complex web of emotions and relationships within the family.

I had high hopes for this book. In fact, I truly wanted to love it. It was recommended to me by my Uncle Steve, who adores it, and many other people I know also have a great affection for it.

However, to my surprise, I didn't feel the same way. I usually have a penchant for books of this genre, with their dark Southern settings, quirky characters, and psychological turmoil.

But for some reason, it just didn't click for me with this particular book. I desperately wanted to feel something, anything, for the characters, but I remained detached.

Perhaps that was the intended effect, as I felt as cold and remote as the relationships depicted in the story.

In the end, I渴望 to have an emotional connection with the book, but it simply didn't happen.

The writing, on the other hand, was excellent. The stream of conscious narrative in one part of the book was truly amazing.

Despite this, all in all, it just didn't do it for me.

My rating: OK.

This book holds a special place among my all-time favorites. It serves as a unique litmus test for me to gauge the depth of my depression.

Whenever I find myself understanding the complex and often convoluted events and emotions within the pages, I know that my depression has reached a significant level. Strangely enough, it functions in a similar way to "The Bell Jar."

My father recommended this book to me, emphasizing that it contains one of the all-time best stream-of-consciousness pieces of writing. And he was damn straight.

The way the author weaves the narrative through the character's thoughts and feelings is truly remarkable. It allows the reader to immerse themselves in the story and experience the emotions as if they were their own.

This book has not only helped me understand my own mental state better but has also provided me with a deeper appreciation for the power of literature.

What a dark and strange novel this is!

Told in fierce omniscient narration, "Lie Down in Darkness" is the story of a Southern family struck through with envy, vengeance, sorrow, and bitterness. It is a family marked, even years before it occurs, by the suicide of one of the young Loftis daughters in the humid days after the United States dropped atomic bombs. The novel opens out as it brushes against the African-American spiritual followers of a man who calls himself Daddy Faith; Jewish artists and intellectuals in New York City; a wrenching World War; and, growling underneath the surface, the struggle between guilt and pride in the South.

William Styron's debut novel was published to great acclaim in 1951 and won the Prix de Rome by the American Academy in Rome. I am not the first to be startled that William Styron was a mere 26-years-old when he published this book. Despite his years, he doesn't hesitate to claim a strong storytelling voice, to take a stance. This is a hero-less novel of judgments, and the narrator is not an exception.

Zoom in on Port Warwick, Virginia. Here is Milton Loftis, an alcoholic lawyer in his early 50s who once had political ambitions. Here is his wife, Helen, who brought the money to the family. Here are their two daughters: Maudie, a mentally-impaired cripple who dies over a horrid weekend in Charlottesville when she's about twenty; and Peyton, beautiful and intelligent and doomed. Maudie is Helen's favorite; Milton rather forgets she's around. Peyton is the target of Helen's powerful loathing and Milton's discomfiting affection... if it best can be called that. Helen and Milton have an awful marriage, marked by fear and bitterness; it's a relationship that reminds me of W. Somerset Maugham's "Of Human Bondage." Milton finds solace, for a time, in his longtime mistress, Dolly Bonner. Biting at the heels of them all is a haunting sense of godlessness.

Most novels unfold in a variation between expansion and compression--that is, stretching some scenes out, and compressing others into a few lines in a way that brings texture and movement to the tale. Styron, however, settles almost entirely in the "expansion" mode; he is patient with his story and adept at honing in on the inward energy of self-destruction, the outward energy of gossip and posturing. While it seems to be an old-fashioned fictional technique to dwell on description, I found myself fond of Styron's sharp, lingering eye on the faces of his characters, whether--like Peyton, Milton, and Helen--they bear an influence that is felt on every page, or--like Peyton's wedding guests, or her first beau, Dick Cartwright--they float in for a short time.

Narrative texture, then, comes to this novel in other ways -- the lyrical opening pages of a train traveling through Virginia, told in disarming second-person, for example, and the surprising section near the end that shifts into breathless first-person for fifty pages without a single paragraph break. Oftentimes we approach a scene already knowing how it will unfold. We move closely into the minds of a number of characters, watching some of these expansive scenes at the distance of, say, Carey, the frustrated Episcopal minister, or Lennie, the red-headed urbanite. Other scenes are owned only by the narrator in, for example, a fascinating account of the history of Potter's Field, the island off New York where un-claimed bones are lain, and then moved, and then lain again, as space permits. The variation of voice is what keeps a painful story palatable.

In a passage describing society's reaction to the affair between Milton Loftis and Dolly Bonner:

"Hell, they'd say in the country club locker room, you know how Milt's getting his. Everybody knew, bearing testimony to the fact that suburban vice, like a peeling nose, is almost impossible to conceal. It went all over town, this talk, like a swarm of bees, settling down lazily on polite afternoon sun porches to rise once more and settle down again with a busy murmur among cautious ladylike foursomes on the golf course, buzzing pleasurably there amid ladylike whacks of the golf ball and cautious pullings-down of panties which bound too tightly. Everybody knew about their affair and everybody talked about it, and because of some haunting inborn squeamishness it would not have relieved Loftis to know that nobody particularly cared."

At times, I itched at the book's pretension: the ambitions of the artist to make this an "epic" are painfully apparent, and his relentless focus on the humiliations of his characters sometimes feels exploitative. When I closed the book finally, I was relieved to be free of the tension of characters that find so many ways to enact and absorb violence. I wish the book had been trimmed by about fifty pages or so. Simply put, Styron can overdo it. Perhaps this is the one place where the youthfulness of the author peeps through. Another flaw of the book? His rendering of African-American communities in Virginia rings of condescension and is marred by simple stereotypes (watermelon, fried chicken).

I came away from "Lie Down in Darkness" impressed with Styron's guts, both as a technician and an imagination. Indeed I was surprised by how far Styron was willing to go with the macabre; the overtures of incest took me aback and complicated the rendering of love that threads through the novel. Despite the book's weaknesses, Styron's gifts are enveloping. This was the first of his relatively few books that I have read. It won't be the last.

3.5 stars

This book was truly captivating. It delved into extremely dark and disturbing themes, making it a challenging read at times. However, I found myself completely enthralled by the characters. Peyton, Milton, and Helen were all deeply flawed individuals, each damaged in their own unique ways. Despite their numerous issues and less-than-admirable qualities, there was something about them that evoked a sense of sympathy. Take Peyton, for instance. She was highly manipulative, yet beneath that façade, all she craved was to be loved and valued. The story did have its slow moments, but the intricate and complex nature of the characters more than made up for it. Their individual struggles and desires added depth and authenticity to the narrative, ultimately winning me over.

I rate this with 5 stars because it was truly amazing for its era.

It presents an intense narrative that can at times be a difficult read. However, if you have a penchant for dark southern gothic tales, it is most definitely worth delving into.

When it comes to the aspect of being 'enjoyable', I would assign it a rating of 3.

The story's intensity and the challenges it poses while reading might not make it an entirely轻松的 experience.

Yet, for those who appreciate the unique charm and atmosphere of southern gothic literature, the rewards of reading this work far outweigh the difficulties.

It offers a captivating exploration of the darker side of human nature and the mysteries that lurk within the southern landscape.

Overall, it is a remarkable piece of literature that leaves a lasting impression on the reader.

Sometimes three stars implies that a novel offered a good experience. At other times, it indicates that there was a combination of the great and the not so great. I had previously perused Styron's The Confessions of Nat Turner and Sophie's Choice. Neither of these was an effortless read, yet they were remarkable and memorable, and in numerous ways, enjoyable.

However, reading Lie Down in Darkness was a distressing experience. The writing itself was truly beautiful. The structure of the novel was unique and served to support the story. It is extremely difficult to envision this as a first novel. The craftsmanship appears so advanced.

To love a novel, I require something more than just a story. But I still need a story that hooks me. I don't necessarily have to like the characters, but I need to have some sort of feeling about them. The story of Loftis, Helen, and Peyton is prefigured in the first few pages of the novel. There was no real story to be told. Only explanations. I didn't like the characters nor did I strongly dislike them. I felt sorry for them, but mostly I didn't care. It was as if I was looking at a piece of art, amazed at the abilities of the artist yet not enjoying the art.

This story, which is set in the south, truly caught my attention. It is about a family that has lost its way, and its members seem to have lost their minds as well.

The author has written this story in a seamless and artful manner, presenting it from multiple perspectives. The interplay between one's internal monologue and interactive dialogue is masterfully crafted.

At times, the story is moving, making you feel a deep sense of emotion. It can also be funny, bringing a smile to your face. However, more often than not, it is tragic, leaving you with a heavy heart.

I found myself not wanting their inevitable outcome to be doom. I hoped for a glimmer of hope, a way out for this family. But alas, it had to be. The story serves as a poignant reminder of the harsh realities of life and the consequences that come with losing one's way.

It makes you think about the importance of family, of staying connected, and of finding one's true path in life. This story will stay with me for a long time, and I believe it will have a similar impact on others who read it.

I was initially inclined to dismiss this as an outdated work that focused on a troubled, affluent southern family during the World War II era.

It fails to present a rosy image of the "good old days," given its themes of racism, alcoholism, and mental illness.

Nevertheless, Styron is indeed a talented writer, and some of his prose is truly remarkable.

His portrayals of family upheaval in a time when such issues were largely ignored and suppressed are, as expected, rather gloomy and distressing.

This is by no means a happily ever after story, as the characters become mired in their own shortcomings.

However, in my view, the characters were not particularly sympathetic as they seemed almost like caricatures of real people.

Overall, while the writing has its strengths, the subject matter and the lack of fully developed, relatable characters make this a somewhat challenging read.

It does, however, offer a glimpse into a different time and a different kind of family dynamic that may be of interest to some readers.

I have read that Styron does not consider himself a "Southern writer."

However, this book echoes Faulkner like no other. The perspective writing, which seamlessly transitions from one character to the next, along with the stream of consciousness, setting, and topic, all seem very much in the Southern vein.

Somehow, this book enthralled me as I found myself switching allegiances from one character to the next. Each character's thoughts and experiences were presented in such a vivid and engaging way that I couldn't help but be drawn into their world.

Ultimately, in the end, I did not feel very sympathetic to any of the members of the Loftis family. Their actions and decisions were often flawed and self-destructive. However, I was very happy to have been an observer in their family drama.

The book provided a fascinating glimpse into the complex and often troubled relationships within a Southern family, and it made me思考 about the nature of family, love, and loss.

Despite Styron's disclaimer, this book is a testament to the power and influence of Southern literature.

Club Read: On the Southern Literary Trail

Comment:

I'm a day late and a couple of chapters short on this thread as I gave in on Peyton's soliloquy, if you can even call it that. I simply couldn't force myself to read one more sentence. I concur with most of the comments here. For me, it's not just that the characters are unlikable. The real issue is the overwrought style Stryon employs in nearly every reflection, flashback, and piece of dialogue. It seems the author hasn't done enough to enliven the characters or flesh out a forward-moving story. Stryon has an easy way with language, no doubt, but in this novel, it becomes a handicap rather than an advantage. I can't recall the exact location, but at one point, I believe Stryon has Peyton (or maybe it's Helen?) and Milton secluded in the bedroom, once again anguished and distraught. For Stryon, this isn't enough. For some reason, he references the pattern of flashing lights from an airplane passing overhead, as if this drama in the night sky had a significant bearing on the action in the bedroom! I wonder, why stop there? Why not state outright, with apologies to Snoopy, "It was a Dark and Stormy Night and an airplane lit up the heavens?"

Southern writers are typically excellent storytellers, so when you get a soggy non-story like this from an A-list writer, it's puzzling. Nothing I found online indicates that Stryon had a compelling need to work with material about a failed marriage. His mother struggled with cancer during much of his childhood, and his father was often clinically depressed. However, this doesn't seem like a likely basis for the peculiar love/hate triangle we find in 'Darkness'. As for the step-mother, she didn't enter the picture until Stryon was at least 14 and getting ready for boarding school.

I have several thoughts, though. By the late forties, when Stryon conceived and wrote 'Darkness', writers, dramatists, and all kinds of literati had come under the influence of Tennessee Williams, especially his play 'The Glass Menagerie', which premiered in New York in 1945 to great acclaim. Williams brought a new visceral realism to the American stage by dramatizing the inner turmoil, conflicting passions, and pretensions often present in the family dynamic. Styron may well have been motivated to write 'Darkness', in part, because of the influence of Williams and the new aesthetic sweeping through the culture. (See John Lahr's biography of Williams for some interesting thoughts on why post-war America was more than ready for what Williams had to offer. https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...).

Another hypothesis: It wouldn't take many changes to transform Stryon's premise into the outline of a Williams production, albeit an outré one. First, make all the flashbacks elements of a "memory play". Then, structure the flashbacks so that they lead to two new climactic scenes at or near the conclusion: 1) Peyton and Milton finally consummate their incestuous relationship (if they haven't already in the final chapters), and 2) After learning of it, Helen, in a fit of religious fury and puritanical zeal, kills a drunken Peyton in her bed by "smothering" her with a pillow. Later, Pastor Carey, channeling Stanley K, gets Helen committed to a mental institution.

It's hard to argue that this conclusion is inconsistent with the elements presented in 'Darkness'. And now, at least we have a basis upon which to build the supporting elements, eliminate the aimless vortex, and get that story engine chugging along the tracks.

This was my very first encounter with Styron. It was kind of like a unique blend where Faulker's style meets Paul Theroux's narrative and then there's something softer added to the mix.

The novel takes the reader on one continuous descent into the realm of death, and its title is truly apt. It is tragic and depressing, yet at the same time, it is extremely well-written. It is filled to the brim with sincerity and yearning.

And I firmly believe that you really can't expect much more from a novel or a story. I don't want to disclose a significant event within the book, but I have to say that I have not come across anywhere a more effective utilization of a symbol in a literary work.

It's just a simple insignia that appears at a certain moment, and it had such an impact on me that I stopped dead in my tracks and just stared at it. For a few minutes, I was completely transfixed. I wasn't even really thinking about it in a conscious way, but I just became completely stuck on this one character.

I would have loved to try and analyze it, but it was something that was simply inexplainable. I don't know if I have ever witnessed any single image in any medium that was so powerfully poignant yet so inarticulately expressed. It was so intuitive and visceral that it left a lasting impression on me.