I’m not going to attempt to write an erudite review of this book. If I did, I would simply be revealing the glaring holes in my Faulkner education. A scholarly write-up of this brilliant man’s work is best left to students of college literature classes or perhaps a well-taught AP English course or another reviewer more adept than I.

Confession: I was hesitant to read this, but I was determined to make another attempt after a failed one several years ago when I picked up a copy of Absalom, Absalom! I vaguely recall reading Faulkner in high school, and the fact that I can’t quite remember the details tells me it was probably neither a poor nor an exceedingly enjoyable experience. I am happy to say that this time around I was sold! Light in August is not only accessible, in my opinion, but is also a remarkable work of fiction.

This is what I would call Southern Gothic fiction at its finest. Jefferson, Mississippi in the 1920s was rife with racism, misogyny and religious fanaticism. The depiction of every single character is striking. Their lives are tragic, lonely, and often violent. I couldn’t help but feel that each and every one of us must be damned in one way or another after reading this! A man of mixed race, Joe Christmas is the epitome of a person consumed by an identity crisis. He strives to find where he belongs, and in the process becomes completely alienated. He cannot find his place as either a black or a white man. Society feeds and inflames his feelings of alienation.

The other characters that populate this novel are equally compelling. I won’t soon forget Lena Grove, Byron Bunch, Lucas Burch, Reverend Hightower, Joanna Burden and many more. Since what truly sells me with any book is the writing itself (I’m not a plot only kind of gal), it would be remiss if I failed to mention the pure artistry of Faulkner’s prose – often poetic, deeply emotive, and highly evocative of this time and place.

I feel at a loss to say more about this book, except that we must continue to reflect on our humanity and our obligations towards others. We must as a society strive to work harder on inclusiveness and acceptance of others. Faulkner’s message rings all too clear right now.

It was with tremendous sadness that on the same evening that I finished reading this masterpiece, on May 22, 2019, I learned that a young classmate of my daughter’s, a fifteen year old young man, had taken his own life. A teenager who seemed always cheerful and one whose goal was to make others laugh at his charming antics. He wanted to embrace others. What amount of misery and feelings of isolation must have resided in his hurting soul for him to take such a drastic and irrevocable step; I can’t begin to imagine the pain he felt and now that of his grieving family.

A dark and captivating piece of Southern Gothic literature, the prose of which is instantly recognizable as 'Faulkneresque'. It vividly showcases his talent for描绘 the dreadful Deep South during a period of severe racial prejudice, misogyny, and the preaching of religion, seen through the eyes of both clergy and those who are deluded and fanatical. It features some of Faulkner's most memorable characters. There's the fearless Lena Grove, in search of the father of her unborn child. Reverend Hightower, grappling with numerous issues related to faith and morality. And the mysterious drifter Joe Christmas, consumed by inner turmoil and evil thoughts, all intertwined with his complex feelings about his mixed ancestry. The narrative jumps around between different characters and time zones, making you truly think about what lies before you. There is no traditional plot; instead, there are interlinked small stories that come to a violent climax. However, it doesn't take long for Faulkner to clearly spell out where and when we are, with dialogue containing the 'N' word to a shocking and depressingly realistic extent for that era. Here, Faulkner is a master at creating a brutally harsh and unforgettable world, perhaps deliberately so. Although I'm not entirely certain if he fully intended it to be this way, all the characters presented to us seem like both victims and victimizers, unsympathetic and lost in life. Even after all the sad and tragic events unfold, we are only left with a glimmer of semi-hope for a brighter future.

I can't quite determine whether reading Faulkner - especially this particular work - during the massive George Floyd protests is hideously inappropriate or precisely the right thing to do. When I began, all I knew was that I wanted to give Faulkner another chance. Many years ago, I heroically labored through "The Sound and the Fury," and I seem to recall thinking it was brilliant, but perhaps that was just because I managed to survive it. Then, more recently, I read "As I Lay Dying," and that one was truly great, no hesitation, I adored it. So... maybe I'm a Faulkner fan. Let's find out.

Turns out, I'm not.
There are significant problems with this novel.

FIRST PROBLEM
The story of Joe Christmas is the main thread here. We learn his entire life story. The crucial aspect about Joe is his race - after all, this is the Deep South in the 1920s. He appears to be a white guy, but he's been told he has some "Negro" blood in him. This is merely a rumor, with no one having any proof. He can and does live in white society without anyone batting an eye. The only way people come to know he might be part black is that he keeps telling them. The knowledge that he might possibly be "part" (what part, 5%, 10%? This is never debated) Negro crushes Joe's life and drives him crazy. And everyone he obsessively tells reacts as if he's just torn off his human mask to reveal a mass of wriggling tentacles. They recoil in horror, they hiss, they forcefully throw him out. It's as if if he stays around, they might catch blackness from him. It's like there was a particular disgust in finding they were in a room with a part-black guy without realizing it.

Reading this in the UK in 2020 is strange, more than strange, it's virtually incomprehensible. There are approximately 1.25 million mixed-race people in this country. No one cares, nobody blinks an eye. The only thing people are likely to say is "oh those mixed-race kids have such great hair". Now, this isn't to say racism doesn't exist in the UK, far from it. But this horror of racial mixing, of white people being somehow contaminated by black "blood" (we would call it genes now, I guess) is not part of the picture.

So, it seems to a modern reader as if Joe Christmas is suffering from an imaginary disease. If he just kept quiet about it, no one would know. But he can't. So, he suffers horribly. Check out this extraordinary passage:

"Because the black blood drove him first to the negro cabin. And then the white blood drove him out of there, as it was the black blood which snatched up the pistol and the white blood which would not let him fire it. And it was the white blood which sent him to the minister, which rising in him for the last and final time, sent him against all reason and all reality, into the embrace of a chimera, a blind faith in something read in a printed Book. Then I believe that the white blood deserted him for the moment."

I mean, WTF?

SECOND PROBLEM
The N word is used liberally on every other page. If that's going to offend you, stay away from "Light in August". Not only is it used a great deal, but it's used by the characters in the most offensive way possible.

THIRD PROBLEM
Faulkner assumes us readers have unlimited patience, so he simply doesn't care about moving the story forward. At first, you think, hey, 100 pages, this is so straightforward, I thought Faulkboy was supposed to be tough. And then everything comes to a screeching halt while a huge backstory is told in great detail. Then we veer off onto another entirely different story. Then we have to endure this person's tiresome biography, and that character's too, and then we jump back to fill in the part of the story only this newly introduced character was present at. A good example is the very last chapter of this long book - we get a completely new character introduced right there. Cute.

This stop-start nonsense was enough to drive me crazy.

FOURTH PROBLEM
The writing style changes constantly, from chapter to chapter and even within chapters. I love this idea, of course, as I'm a fan of "Ulysses", but some of Faulkner's styles are going to give you the creeps. He knows what he's doing, he's being deliberately difficult, unless he was drunk while operating a typewriter. He seems to enjoy complication bordering on bafflement for its own sake.

Joe Christmas is wondering about the "two creatures" that seem to inhabit his new lover:

"Now it would be that still, cold, contained figure of the first phase who, even though lost and damned, remained somehow impervious and impregnable; then it would be the other, the second one, who in furious denial of that impregnability strove to drown in the black abyss of its own creating that physical purity which had been preserved too long now even to be lost."

The neighbours rummage through the ruins of a burned house where a woman died:

"So they moiled and clotted, believing that the flames, the blood, the body that had died three years ago and had just now begun to live again, cried out for vengeance, not believing that the rapt infury of the flames and the immobility of the body were both affirmations of an attained bourne beyond the hurt and harm of man."

A guy tiptoes into an old man's room to wake him up:

"There was a quality of profound and complete surrender in it. Not of exhaustion, but surrender, as though he had given over and relinquished completely that grip upon that blending of pride and hope and vanity and fear, that strength to cling to either defeat or victory, which is the I-Am, and the relinquishment of which is usually death."

Also, Faulkner comes up with some really ridiculous similes - here are eyes like beasts:

"She watched him, holding his eyes up to hers like two beasts about to break, as if he knew that when they broke this time he would never catch them, turn them again, and that he himself would be lost."

And his pages and pages of loony old man preacher ravings about God's abomination (i.e. his grandson) and bitches and whores (i.e. his daughter) sound exactly like somebody's parody of the florid Bible-soaked nutcases of The South:

"And he just had to watch and to wait, and he did and it was in the Lord's good time, for evil to come from evil. And the doctor's Jezebel come running from her lustful bed, still astink with sin and fear. (etc etc etc)"

FIFTH PROBLEM: WHAT FAULKNER DID NOT BELIEVE
Around the time he was writing this book, the Carter Family were recording one of their famous songs, you know the one, it goes:

"Well there's a dark and a troubled side of life.
There's a bright and a sunny side too.
But if you meet with the darkness and strife,
The sunny side we also may view.
Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life.
It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way,
If we keep on the sunny side of life."

Faulkner did not believe in keeping on the sunny side. No. Not even a little. This novel is a colossal miseryfest.

I saw a review that described all of this Southern Gothic genre of literature, including old man Faulkner, as "morose scab picking". Wow, that's a bit harsh.

AND IN THE END
I mean, the guy can write, he has command, he has a wealth of material, and he has a great setting and all of that going for him. It's just that three-quarters of the way through "Light in August", you may feel that you're going to die. Probably in a bizarre agricultural accident.

BONUS TRACK
"his face sweating, his lip lifted upon his clenched and rotting teeth from about which the long sagging of flabby and puttycolored flesh falls away"

oh shut up, William

After some 45+ years, I have finally read Light in August again. What truly amazes me is how little beyond the basic character details I could recall. It makes me increasingly believe that I am now able to read Faulkner with a deeper understanding, thanks to my accumulated life experience, compared to when I was younger. This seems to be the case with many classics.

As for the novel itself, I don't intend to write a lengthy review. I have marked numerous sections that I like through status updates, which is a great way to include many quotations. Essentially, this novel is about the full circle of many lives. It portrays the experience of both subtle and exaggerated racism, a South that is unable to let go of its Confederate past (which hardly feels like the past), sectionalism that prohibits newcomers from "other", northern territories, and the ongoing struggle of men and women (perhaps strength versus nurture). There are so many aspects to this novel. My favorite section kept changing as I read, but in the end, I think it is Gail Hightower's discovery of self near the end of the novel. It is such a painful self-correction.

Now that I have re-read Light in August, it has returned to its secure place among my favorites of Faulkner's novels. My prior rating was 5*. I did my college thesis on the characters from this book and how the language used to describe each one reflected their character. I was amazed that this worked and have always wondered if authors do this deliberately or unconsciously. I haven't read this book since my college days, and it was long overdue for this re-read.

As the month of August gracefully came to an end, I sat outside,沐浴着温暖而渐弱的阳光的最后几缕光线，翻阅着《八月之光》的最后几页，试图与它所描绘的环境和时代融为一体。

I remember vividly finding out about Faulkner when I was around 11 or 12 years old. I had wandered into a used bookstore and there, I saw a set of his collected works. They looked rather drab, massive, and uninviting. I have managed to find a picture of them:



Just look at them. They seem so bland and boring, almost dusty. Maybe it wasn't the most genius move by Vintage. Now, approximately 13 or 14 years later, I have delved into 4 of Faulkner's works. I have a plan to read them all in due time. There is something about his works that keeps pulling me back. Gravity might be the appropriate word. It's like controlled chaos, filled with pathos. He dares to tackle feelings that I feel ashamed to even think about – but of course, that doesn't make them any less true. Throughout his writing, he is also prone to embark on “creative writing” thought experiments, drawing inspiration from any and all muses that fly above him. Sometimes this works wonders, while other times it falls flat. With Light in August, I felt that it missed the mark more often than it hit. It wasn't boring by any means. But the content of this book perhaps feels closer to the colour “palette” used by Vintage in their collected works of Faulkner.

The topics covered in this book are not unfamiliar to the fictional county of Yoknapatawpha. First and foremost, it's about race and racial identity. It's to be expected that Faulkner's handling of these issues isn't as graceful as we might anticipate in our modern age – after all, it was a book written in 1932. However, I firmly believe that there is deep compassion in his discussions, highlighting the sheer idiocy of segregation, racial supremacy, and slavery. His true opinion shines through repeatedly via his most delicately crafted characters. In this case, it's Reverend Gail Hightower: a solitary man tired of the separation, the hate, and the politics. A man for whom the allure of a book in the sun outweighs everything else. The image of him in his study, re-discovering Tennyson, will stay with me for a long while. You also come across other themes that are repeated across Faulkner's works – staying true to an identity passed down through generations (perhaps to the detriment of oneself and those around), dealing with social requirements and the weight of community expectations, and coming to terms with the frivolity of many romantic relationships. Poignant within these themes in Light in August was the lasting power of abuse throughout a life. As they say, hurt people hurt people.

Despite how much I relished thinking about these ideas, the truth is that the wild, indignant energy that coursed through the first three hundred pages of the novel gradually lost its steam, coming to a sputtering and rather pathetic stop about 50 pages before the finish line. As I mentioned earlier, Faulkner's musings became rather grating, the introduction of characters into the narrative as late as 470 pages in (out of 507) bordered on the ridiculous, and I felt that he couldn't hold the centre of the narrative together as adeptly as he did with The Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, and Absalom, Absalom!. Oh well. I can only hope that the other ones are more seamless in nature.

Also, a random thought: is \\n  suspiration\\n the most quintessentially Faulknerian word of all time? I truly think so.

Boy, have I truly missed Faulkner's ability to mess with my mind.

One of the great fallacies of our era has to be the perception of Faulkner as creating only self-serious, highbrow literature. Because, in reality, his works can be as bloody, pulpy, and downright enjoyable as it gets. There is such a profound heart, a sharp intellect, and a pitch-black sense of humor within his writing. Faulkner isn't afraid to continuously pull the rug out from under you, challenging every assumption you have about the depths of human nature, and then suggesting that even his own truth is absurd.

In fact, that's precisely what I would say "Light in August" is all about. All those crazy, unexpected twists and turns are there to first suggest the ridiculous, then attempt to justify it, and finally undercut it once again, playing fast and loose with your perception of who someone is and why. All the while, you simply can't shake the idea, I dare you to try, that Faulkner just wants you to think. He won't spoon-feed you what to think. Instead, he'll keep mixing up and muddling your understanding of what you think he wants you to think. He'll take a perverse delight in this process, being less interested in imposing morals or some grand, capital-T Truth than in making you do the work: to look at the freak show that is human nature, to accept something uncomfortable, and to think for yourself.

"[Byron] thought. ‘Like a fellow running from or toward a gun aint got time to worry whether the word for what he is doing is courage or cowardice.’" This quote perfectly encapsulates the complex and thought-provoking nature of Faulkner's work.

Published in 1932, this classic American southern gothic novel is set during Prohibition. It delves into the intersecting lives of five individuals who deviate from the traditional path.

Joe Christmas, an orphan, was abused as a child and suspects he has mixed racial ancestry without proof. He constantly searches for his place in the world. Lena Grove, an unwed pregnant woman, is in pursuit of the father of her unborn child. Gail Hightower, a disgraced reverend, is haunted by his family's past and his wife's scandalous death. Joanna Burden, living alone on a large property, belongs to an abolitionist family ostracized by the rural southern community for years. Byron Bunch, a nondescript, poor, hardworking, and quiet man, goes unnoticed by others.

The plot revolves around a criminal act of murder and arson. Themes such as the search for identity and the oppression of individuals by racism, patriarchy, and religious zealotry are explored.

The book is written in the third person omniscient point of view. It focuses on one character and then seamlessly shifts to another. The storyline is not chronological, flowing forward and backward in time. This non-linear structure effectively catches the reader up on what has been missed after closely following the events of a specific character. Although it may sound convoluted, it successfully maintains the reader's interest. Faulkner's use of unusual word pairings, running them together, creates vivid images.

This novel is predominantly dark, violent, tragic, and sad, with only a glimmer of hope. It demands a certain level of maturity to understand the metaphors, religious allegory, and complexities within the story. I attempted to read Faulkner when I was young, but much of it was beyond my comprehension. I believe that a breadth of life experience is necessary to appreciate his work. While I have not read his entire body of work, this book would be a more accessible starting point compared to The Sound and the Fury or Absalom, Absalom!

I must start by stating that I found Murat Belge's translation excellent. I haven't read a novel with such pleasure for a long time. The pleasure I got didn't stem from the fluency or the attractiveness of the subject. Of course, it's an attractive subject, but it was the style that hooked me. Just like in The Sound and the Fury where I got to know Faulkner, the technique he applied here also seems to carry the reader away while reading. It reads a person as a road, a tree, a cloud, or a road, a tree, and a cloud.

Therefore, one sees oneself echoing in time and space in the book.

I'm very glad that I had this pleasure, and I would really like to read it in its original language as well.

I'm giving it 4 stars right now but I know it deserves 5.

This year, I've delved into Faulkner more than ever before. Before this year, I had read zero of his works. As a member of On the Southern Literary Trail, a wonderful group on Goodreads, it was almost inevitable that Faulkner would make it onto my reading list. And indeed, it did! We began the year with Faulkner's Collected Short Stories and later in the year, we read Knight’s Gambit, which introduced us to Faulkner's famous Mississippi lawyer, Gavin Stevens. This gradual approach to a full-length Faulkner novel (which initially intimidated me) was much more preferable than jumping in without any preparation. Fortunately, this preparation allowed me to become familiar with Faulkner's unique writing style and prose. Another useful tip came from my more knowledgeable friends on the Trail, who informed me that Light in August was his most accessible work. With all these factors in my favor, I took the plunge.

This novel is filled with unforgettable characters, who seem to exist on the extreme end of a spectrum of misfits, outsiders, and eccentrics. Joe Christmas, for example, is a loner, rejected by society and confused about his racial identity. A childhood event in the orphanage has had a profound impact on him, leading him down a path of violence and tragedy. Unable to find his place as either a white or a black man, Christmas is tormented by his racial ambiguity, feeling both ashamed and proud of his background. This internal conflict causes him to be isolated and estranged from both sides of society.

Lena Grove's story is a contrast to that of Joe Christmas. A simple, young, unwed, and pregnant girl, Lena sets out on a journey from Alabama in search of her baby's father, eventually arriving in Jefferson, Mississippi. While Christmas is unsure of himself, Lena is faithful and believes in her decision to seek out the father, trusting that God will take care of her. Her steadfast and calm spirit remains with her throughout her journey, despite the adversity she faces. She represents a kind of purity, despite her status as a fallen woman, and offers hope for the future.

In addition to Joe Christmas and Lena Grove, there are other fascinating characters in the novel, such as Byron Bunch, Lucas Burch, Reverend Hightower, Joanna Burden, Doc Hines, and Simon McEachern. Through these characters, Faulkner presents a vivid portrait of the South in the 1920s, complete with scandals, racial tensions and inequalities, sexual immoralities, religious fanaticism, women's roles, and violence. One of the major themes that I found most difficult to reconcile was Faulkner's portrayal of religious characters as forceful, cruel, and self-serving. I had a hard time reading about how McEachern and Hines treated their wives and Joe Christmas. There was no hint of God's love or forgiveness in their overbearing and harsh behavior. In Faulkner's South, those who adhered to Calvinistic views believed that any form of enjoyment was sinful and therefore shameful. Faulkner is clearly critical of this form of Christianity, and he balances these negative portrayals with other characters, like Lena and Byron, who display a more sincere and quiet spirituality.

If you're not used to reading Faulkner, it can take some time to get used to his writing style. He often uses a stream of consciousness technique, which can be extremely wordy and lengthy. There were sections in this novel that were like this, but not as many as I had expected based on what I've heard about his other works. Reading Faulkner is not a quick or easy task; it requires patience and thoughtfulness. You may not be able to understand every theme or symbol on your first reading, but that's okay. In fact, I would recommend planning to reread his works in the future. Faulkner has some interesting writing techniques and a love for creating new words by combining existing ones. You'll quickly recognize words like "swolebellied", "frictionsmooth", and "parchmentcolored". Overall, I give this novel a definite 4 stars, but as I mentioned earlier, it really deserves 5 stars based on the writing alone. I'll leave that last star for my future reread, in the hope that I'll be able to discover more of Faulkner's literary gold.

"Light in August" by William Faulkner is a captivating and profound novel that delves into themes of race, identity, and religion. The story begins with Lena Grove's arrival in Jefferson, Mississippi, in search of the father of her unborn child. Meanwhile, the town is in an uproar over the murder of Joanna Burden, and Joe Christmas is suspected. Faulkner's use of multiple perspectives and flashbacks creates a complex and engaging narrative. The characters are richly drawn, with their own unique voices and struggles. Byron Burch, for example, is a kind-hearted man who takes Lena under his protection. Joe Christmas, on the other hand, is a tortured soul, caught between the white and black worlds. The novel also explores the extremism of American Protestant Christianity, which is used as an excuse for violence and repression. Overall, "Light in August" is a powerful and thought-provoking work that offers a deep insight into the human condition.

"Y llevaba una corbata y un sombrero de paja casi nuevo cuya inclinación insolente daba a su rostro inmóvil un aire inquietante. No tenía el aspecto de un vagabundo profesional con ropa profesional, pero había en él algo de desarraigado, como si no perteneciera a ninguna ciudad, como si no tuviese una calle, una pared, una pulgada de terreno de los que se pudiese decir que eran su casa."

I never dreamed that heaven could be a plowed field. Then, I saw these words on the back cover. "William Faulkner," it said "now leads a quiet, farming life." I have a penchant for old editions. In them, the dead seem to live on. Or perhaps there is life after this one, in which case, Faulkner's heaven is already plowed. Rest, dear author. Your work is done. You broke the earth and still nourish us. "Light in August" left me humbled and full.

Praising a book with violent scenes is a delicate matter. Consider them the roots in the soil. Gnarled and twisted like arthritic fingers, they reach out for the air. Frightening? Indeed. But then, I recall the beauty of so many pages. They are on par with sonatas. The fingers play with the dexterity and endurance of a young Liszt. Here is one example.

"She was in his mind so constantly that it was almost as if he were looking at her, there in the house, patient, waiting, inescapable, crazy. During the first phase it had been as though he were outside a house where snow was on the ground, trying to get into the house; during the second phase he was at the bottom of a pit in the hot wild darkness; now he was in the middle of a plain where there was no house, not even snow, not even wind."

And here is another.

"Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders."

Musical. Mournful. The writing draws you into the story and thought, leading you through tunnels so dark that you may want to stop. But don't give up. Keep reading. Follow Lena who has come "from Alabama: a fur piece. All the way from Alabama a-walking...." Follow her into the light.

This is said to be a good place to commence with Faulkner, yet it simply cannot be his finest work, thus the rating.

Certainly, there were several breathtaking descriptions. However, I discovered the book rather difficult to engage with. There isn't much of a plot, and the story is told in a more conventional manner compared to his other, more intricate novels, employing the third-person omniscient point of view.

I'm glad I initiated my exploration with this. I truly appreciate Faulkner's style and am eagerly anticipating delving into his other works.

The quote "Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders. Knows remembers believes a corridor in a big long garbled cold echoing building of dark red brich soothbleakened by more chimneys than its own, set in a grassless cinderstrewnpacked compound surrounded by smoking factory purlieus and enclosed by a ten foot steel-and-wire fence like a penitentiary or a zoo, where in random erratic surges, with sparrowlike childtrebling, orphans in identical and uniform blue denim in and out of remembering but in knowing constant as the bleak walls, the bleak windows where in rain soot from the yearly adjacenting chimnneys streaked like black tears." adds an element of mystery and complexity to his writing.

It makes one wonder about the deeper meanings and emotions hidden within his words.