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Yeah, fine, Ms. Adler, you were right. This is a great book.
This is a weird, weird book. And maybe not in a good way. But let's be real - there are parts of this novel that I deeply, powerfully loved on a level that I have not felt with 75% of literature. And I respect that.
[This review took me three hours to write. Please validate me.]
The Sound and the Fury is split into four sections. There's the confusing-but-super-cool-to-analyze Benjy section. It skips time without warning, throwing you into 400 different moments that don't really make sense and making you really empathize with Benjy [I'm so sorry Benjy]. There's the probably-my-favorite Quentin section. It's compelling because besides Benjy, Quentin and Caddy are the only white characters in this whole book I don't want dead. Then there's the Jason section, which I fucking hate because it's boring and all about the two worst characters in this book and that one underdeveloped character I should like, with occasional Dilsey cameos and a couple of entertaining instances of Miss Caroline Getting Dragged [iconic]. And finally, there's the still-about-the-two-assholes I-thought-it-would-be-my-favorite-and-then-it-wasn't I-still-love-you-Dilsey Dilsey section. And then, for added bonus, the summary of all the people in this book section that ruins my until-then-valid interpretation of Caddy's character and is really only worth reading for the one PAGE on Luster and Dilsey.
I wish I had not read the second half of this book. Sighs.
But okay, ignoring the confusing bits, and the fact that none of it really makes very much sense [Faulkner is a brilliant writer but also a demon], this is a really interesting and brilliant novel about
the demise of the South, and especially the demise of Southern whitehood.
→ Benjy and the Benjy section ←
I don't know if Faulkner intended for me to like Benjy this much but I honestly don't care. Benjy is described as a “manchild” in many descriptions of this book, as those around him believe he has the mind of a child. But he doesn't. Benjy, though he doesn't understand much of what is going on around him, in some ways understands more than anyone gives him credit for. But no one tries to understand. No one tries to communicate. No one except for Caddy and Dilsey even makes the barest attempt to understand him. [This is why Caddy and Dilsey are the only two characters I like.]
I mean, it's a 1930s-style depiction of mental disability, don't get me wrong. I don't know if I like that mental illness is used as a stain on the family line [to be fair, the message is a lot more complicated and nuanced than that]. But I also... found it really interesting.
Also, I hated this section upon first reading it too. You're valid. You're okay. Here's the how-to: every time a time-switch occurs, draw a line across the page. Then once you finish the section, reread and try to figure out the timelines. I assigned clumsy year guesses to everything and I was right about like, half of them. And yes, I'm aware that sounds awful, but listen, that was the most fun I had in my whole annotating life. And you can also always go here for reference. Although it does spoil stuff like how the Quentin section ends, so I'd maybe wait until you at least finish that to go through this link?
→ Quentin and the Quentin section ←
The thing I like [/ hate / find heartbreaking] about this section is
the profound tragedy in Quentin and Caddy and Benjy's fate.
These are three people who, all in their own way, are victims of the South's obsession with appearances. Quentin is obsessed with the appearance of virtue within his family and with how Caddy has destroyed that, yet he takes all her agency in making those decisions within his inner narration. Caddy is desperate to hide her sin at all costs, even when it means ruining her life. The family is desperate to hide the shame of having Benjy. The family is desperate to hide themselves. And in the course of this, they destroy themselves.
If you look at this book in a cynical light, Quentin is meant to symbolize the death of the Southern planter generation. But in a more nuanced light, he's not - his father is. Quentin is the product of the Southern planters, the product of constant worries about time and honor and appearance and how to preserve them as they quickly disappear. He would rather die than fail to preserve this construct. He would rather die than be without his sister, who - despite some pretty twisted elements of their relationship - he genuinely loves and who genuinely loves him back. He is torn apart by losing her.
Since I think she's the most on-display here [and in the Benjy section], let's talk about
Caddy.
Caddy is fantastic. An icon. An intellectual. I love her. She's literally the only character in this book who isn't a dick to Benjy, Quentin, OR Dilsey, and thus is automatically my favorite. She's a character who goes through a lot of shit during this book and somehow manages to be easy to empathize with in every moment. Here's how I read her: she is doomed to rebel against the constructs of the South and she knows it and she dooms herself again to conforming to the constructs of the South, to marrying off and losing her life and dooming her brother and Benjy all at once, because she feels she has no other choice. But then she is divorced. And then she is free.
[Except that one moment during the ending that I just… don't claim, as it doesn't make any sense. Of course, this is coming from the man who tried to interpret his book's timeline twenty years after reading it and was literally incorrect, so why am I surprised?]
→ Jason and the Jason section ←
Jason's section begins with the line “once a bitch, always a bitch, I says” which is funny because that's exactly what I think about him.
I hate this man so much. I am trying to push it down to accurately interpret and review this novel but
I literally would write an AP-level analytic essay entirely to call Jason a dick and he would totally deserve it.
Yeah, anyway. Jason is another archetype of Southern white manhood - he is a narcissistic, self-victimizing, and hypocritical player of the stock market. He is a thief because he believes he deserves the money. And he is someone who, without failure, believes that he is the victim of the city people - and he might be right. Maybe? Who knows. But either way, The Dick Compson is a product of his upbringing by an awful mother and always feeling like the shafted one in comparison to older siblings Quentin and Caddy. And I hate to admit that I also didn't care that much. Jason, you fucking asshole.
Also, there's something so hilarious to me about widely read acclaimed author William Faulkner using a daddy kink to villainize a character. Acclaimed writers: they're just like us.
We've mentioned the awful mother, so let's talk about one character whom I have little to no sympathy for -
Ms. Caroline.
Oh my god. I fucking hate this woman so much. Let's just take a look at one specific scene in this book - a scene in chapter four, where she believes girl Quentin has committed suicide. And responds like this:
➽“At least she would have enough consideration to leave a note. Even Quentin did that.” [Because obviously, this is the response of any caring mom when they notice that their grandchild has committed suicide. Duh.]
➽ “What reason did Quentin have? It can't be simply to flout and hurt me. Whoever God is, He would not permit that. I'm a lady. You might not believe that from my offspring, but I am.” [I don't really have to say it, do I? But this is a bit of a narcissistic response to your child being dead. Also, I support your children in all their nonexistent efforts to flout and hurt you.]
Caroline is a weak-willed, selfish, emotionally manipulative, and self-victimizing person, one who I dislike with a fiery passion. Yet I'll admit that she is also emblematic of post-bellum Southern white womanhood - obsessed with appearances and caring more for the appearances of the suicides than the suicides themselves, weak-willed because she knows she has no power. She's a tragic figure and a tragically awful figure.
Let's also talk about that one character I really think I should like and I just don't -
Quentin.
Yeah, no, not brother Quentin. Spoiler spoiler spoiler Quentin who confused you in section one. She is so woefully underdeveloped, guys, and it is really obvious in a book that up until now has been so nuanced in its portrayal of each character, so harsh but so understanding. It pains me to admit this, believe me, but Jason and Ms. Caroline both have a lot of depth - hateful depth, but depth nonetheless. Quentin… just doesn't make sense. She doesn't read real to me. I know she's selfish, but I don't understand it. Caddy and Dilsey are kind to her but she cares nothing for either of them - why? I found her to be an overall weak character and a disappointing addition to an otherwise fantastic book.
I don't know if you can tell, but I was not a fan of this section. It's basically three assholes being assholes to each other. Poor Benjy and Dilsey.
→ Dilsey and the Dilsey section ←
The thing I like and appreciate about this section is that the literal thesis of it is
“southern white people are awful and southern black people are going to outlive them.”
Which is… really not the thesis I expected from a book written by a Southern white dude in the 1930s. But sort of the most badass thesis of all time.
The thing I did not like about this section is that Dilsey is not in it enough. I kind of liked watching Jason get fucked over, but I would've preferred more Dilsey, ya know? The moment of this section I liked the most was that moment in which Luster basically says the 1930s version of “white people are crazy” and sums up this entire book in one sentence.
Anyway, I guess the thesis of this review is I kind of like Faulkner. I like that Faulkner clearly remembers his childhood in the South fondly and also recognizes the toxicity of his society. I like that he writes both in homage and in despair. I like the nuance of thought displayed here. And I like that I cried reading this at one point.
And here is what will stay with me, about this book, years from now: it is
what happens to a family after a life of giving themselves away for honor, for dignity, and about the power in enduring
. It is tragic and beautiful and one of the most powerful things I have ever read.
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To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
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.
This is a weird, weird book. And maybe not in a good way. But let's be real - there are parts of this novel that I deeply, powerfully loved on a level that I have not felt with 75% of literature. And I respect that.
[This review took me three hours to write. Please validate me.]
The Sound and the Fury is split into four sections. There's the confusing-but-super-cool-to-analyze Benjy section. It skips time without warning, throwing you into 400 different moments that don't really make sense and making you really empathize with Benjy [I'm so sorry Benjy]. There's the probably-my-favorite Quentin section. It's compelling because besides Benjy, Quentin and Caddy are the only white characters in this whole book I don't want dead. Then there's the Jason section, which I fucking hate because it's boring and all about the two worst characters in this book and that one underdeveloped character I should like, with occasional Dilsey cameos and a couple of entertaining instances of Miss Caroline Getting Dragged [iconic]. And finally, there's the still-about-the-two-assholes I-thought-it-would-be-my-favorite-and-then-it-wasn't I-still-love-you-Dilsey Dilsey section. And then, for added bonus, the summary of all the people in this book section that ruins my until-then-valid interpretation of Caddy's character and is really only worth reading for the one PAGE on Luster and Dilsey.
I wish I had not read the second half of this book. Sighs.
But okay, ignoring the confusing bits, and the fact that none of it really makes very much sense [Faulkner is a brilliant writer but also a demon], this is a really interesting and brilliant novel about
the demise of the South, and especially the demise of Southern whitehood.
→ Benjy and the Benjy section ←
I don't know if Faulkner intended for me to like Benjy this much but I honestly don't care. Benjy is described as a “manchild” in many descriptions of this book, as those around him believe he has the mind of a child. But he doesn't. Benjy, though he doesn't understand much of what is going on around him, in some ways understands more than anyone gives him credit for. But no one tries to understand. No one tries to communicate. No one except for Caddy and Dilsey even makes the barest attempt to understand him. [This is why Caddy and Dilsey are the only two characters I like.]
I mean, it's a 1930s-style depiction of mental disability, don't get me wrong. I don't know if I like that mental illness is used as a stain on the family line [to be fair, the message is a lot more complicated and nuanced than that]. But I also... found it really interesting.
Also, I hated this section upon first reading it too. You're valid. You're okay. Here's the how-to: every time a time-switch occurs, draw a line across the page. Then once you finish the section, reread and try to figure out the timelines. I assigned clumsy year guesses to everything and I was right about like, half of them. And yes, I'm aware that sounds awful, but listen, that was the most fun I had in my whole annotating life. And you can also always go here for reference. Although it does spoil stuff like how the Quentin section ends, so I'd maybe wait until you at least finish that to go through this link?
→ Quentin and the Quentin section ←
The thing I like [/ hate / find heartbreaking] about this section is
the profound tragedy in Quentin and Caddy and Benjy's fate.
These are three people who, all in their own way, are victims of the South's obsession with appearances. Quentin is obsessed with the appearance of virtue within his family and with how Caddy has destroyed that, yet he takes all her agency in making those decisions within his inner narration. Caddy is desperate to hide her sin at all costs, even when it means ruining her life. The family is desperate to hide the shame of having Benjy. The family is desperate to hide themselves. And in the course of this, they destroy themselves.
If you look at this book in a cynical light, Quentin is meant to symbolize the death of the Southern planter generation. But in a more nuanced light, he's not - his father is. Quentin is the product of the Southern planters, the product of constant worries about time and honor and appearance and how to preserve them as they quickly disappear. He would rather die than fail to preserve this construct. He would rather die than be without his sister, who - despite some pretty twisted elements of their relationship - he genuinely loves and who genuinely loves him back. He is torn apart by losing her.
Since I think she's the most on-display here [and in the Benjy section], let's talk about
Caddy.
Caddy is fantastic. An icon. An intellectual. I love her. She's literally the only character in this book who isn't a dick to Benjy, Quentin, OR Dilsey, and thus is automatically my favorite. She's a character who goes through a lot of shit during this book and somehow manages to be easy to empathize with in every moment. Here's how I read her: she is doomed to rebel against the constructs of the South and she knows it and she dooms herself again to conforming to the constructs of the South, to marrying off and losing her life and dooming her brother and Benjy all at once, because she feels she has no other choice. But then she is divorced. And then she is free.
[Except that one moment during the ending that I just… don't claim, as it doesn't make any sense. Of course, this is coming from the man who tried to interpret his book's timeline twenty years after reading it and was literally incorrect, so why am I surprised?]
→ Jason and the Jason section ←
Jason's section begins with the line “once a bitch, always a bitch, I says” which is funny because that's exactly what I think about him.
I hate this man so much. I am trying to push it down to accurately interpret and review this novel but
I literally would write an AP-level analytic essay entirely to call Jason a dick and he would totally deserve it.
Yeah, anyway. Jason is another archetype of Southern white manhood - he is a narcissistic, self-victimizing, and hypocritical player of the stock market. He is a thief because he believes he deserves the money. And he is someone who, without failure, believes that he is the victim of the city people - and he might be right. Maybe? Who knows. But either way, The Dick Compson is a product of his upbringing by an awful mother and always feeling like the shafted one in comparison to older siblings Quentin and Caddy. And I hate to admit that I also didn't care that much. Jason, you fucking asshole.
Also, there's something so hilarious to me about widely read acclaimed author William Faulkner using a daddy kink to villainize a character. Acclaimed writers: they're just like us.
We've mentioned the awful mother, so let's talk about one character whom I have little to no sympathy for -
Ms. Caroline.
Oh my god. I fucking hate this woman so much. Let's just take a look at one specific scene in this book - a scene in chapter four, where she believes girl Quentin has committed suicide. And responds like this:
➽“At least she would have enough consideration to leave a note. Even Quentin did that.” [Because obviously, this is the response of any caring mom when they notice that their grandchild has committed suicide. Duh.]
➽ “What reason did Quentin have? It can't be simply to flout and hurt me. Whoever God is, He would not permit that. I'm a lady. You might not believe that from my offspring, but I am.” [I don't really have to say it, do I? But this is a bit of a narcissistic response to your child being dead. Also, I support your children in all their nonexistent efforts to flout and hurt you.]
Caroline is a weak-willed, selfish, emotionally manipulative, and self-victimizing person, one who I dislike with a fiery passion. Yet I'll admit that she is also emblematic of post-bellum Southern white womanhood - obsessed with appearances and caring more for the appearances of the suicides than the suicides themselves, weak-willed because she knows she has no power. She's a tragic figure and a tragically awful figure.
Let's also talk about that one character I really think I should like and I just don't -
Quentin.
Yeah, no, not brother Quentin. Spoiler spoiler spoiler Quentin who confused you in section one. She is so woefully underdeveloped, guys, and it is really obvious in a book that up until now has been so nuanced in its portrayal of each character, so harsh but so understanding. It pains me to admit this, believe me, but Jason and Ms. Caroline both have a lot of depth - hateful depth, but depth nonetheless. Quentin… just doesn't make sense. She doesn't read real to me. I know she's selfish, but I don't understand it. Caddy and Dilsey are kind to her but she cares nothing for either of them - why? I found her to be an overall weak character and a disappointing addition to an otherwise fantastic book.
I don't know if you can tell, but I was not a fan of this section. It's basically three assholes being assholes to each other. Poor Benjy and Dilsey.
→ Dilsey and the Dilsey section ←
The thing I like and appreciate about this section is that the literal thesis of it is
“southern white people are awful and southern black people are going to outlive them.”
Which is… really not the thesis I expected from a book written by a Southern white dude in the 1930s. But sort of the most badass thesis of all time.
The thing I did not like about this section is that Dilsey is not in it enough. I kind of liked watching Jason get fucked over, but I would've preferred more Dilsey, ya know? The moment of this section I liked the most was that moment in which Luster basically says the 1930s version of “white people are crazy” and sums up this entire book in one sentence.
Anyway, I guess the thesis of this review is I kind of like Faulkner. I like that Faulkner clearly remembers his childhood in the South fondly and also recognizes the toxicity of his society. I like that he writes both in homage and in despair. I like the nuance of thought displayed here. And I like that I cried reading this at one point.
And here is what will stay with me, about this book, years from now: it is
what happens to a family after a life of giving themselves away for honor, for dignity, and about the power in enduring
. It is tragic and beautiful and one of the most powerful things I have ever read.
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