A Rose For Emily - Memorializing the Anniversary of William Faulkner"s Death
July 6, 2009 marks the forty-seventh anniversary of William Faulkner's death.
Although the date of someone's demise isn't the kind of thing we typically celebrate (what, no piñatas?), we must remember that Faulkner's writing relied heavily on themes of death and decay, and that he would never have us flinch in the face of his - or anyone else's - mortality.
What Faulkner would have us flinch in the face of, apparently, was his writing, which teems with convoluted plots, impossibly long sentences, classical allusions, time shifts, narrator shifts, and a really, really - what's it called? - big vocabulary.
(Hemingway famously criticized: "Poor Faulkner.
Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He thinks I don't know all the ten-dollar words.
I know them all right.
" Uh huh.
Sounds like someone's got a case of word envy.
) Throw all that on top of the fact that Faulkner's Southern Gothic writing is teeming with dark humor, morbidity, grotesque characters, and undercurrents of racism and bigotry, and you don't exactly end up with the kind of novel you read at the beach.
(Just two Nobel Prizes in literature.
) If you're looking for something with which to honor the man on his death-day, you might try the significantly more manageable "A Rose for Emily.
" This gothic short story is all about social convention, alienation, forbidden love, murder, and some seriously macabre romantic preferences.
Think "Twilight," minus all the sex.
(We hope.
) True to style, this story begins at a funeral.
A lighthearted yet thought-provoking funeral followed by four weddings? Not a chance.
The year is around 1930, and the funeral is being held for Miss Emily Grierson, an aged Southern belle whose overbearing father crippled her chances of ever having a normal love life.
Flashback to the 1890's: when Emily's father finally bites the dust, leaving his 30-year-old spinster daughter with a house but no money, Emily sequesters herself in her room for three days before admitting he has passed.
Taking pity on her situation, the townspeople decide to exempt her from paying any further taxes.
Life goes back to normal and Emily sticks with what she does best: living as a shut-in.
That is, until a fun-loving but potentially shiesty Northerner named Homer Barron comes to town and is seen driving around with her.
The wild speculation begins.
Are they getting married? Are they breaking up? Have they gotten back together? Is he gay? No, seriously, is he gay? Because it's Mississippi in the 1890's here, people.
Interestingly, when Homer tries to leave Emily (who has just been buying arsenic) and is last seen entering her house, all the speculation seems to stop.
In fact, when the weird smell appears, the townspeople kindly sprinkle lime all around the house.
No questions asked.
(In all fairness, he was a Northerner.
) For the next thirty-something years - with the exception of a several-year stint in which the young ladies go to her house for painting lessons - Emily lives out her life in complete solitude.
And then dies, bringing our story full-circle.
With Emily's funeral out of the way, the townspeople can finally go inside the house and investigate.
And what awaits them there in the bed of the bridal chamber? It's none other than Homer Barron, naturally! (Very naturally, in fact.
Think processes-of-nature naturally.
) But wait, we haven't even gotten to the real Hallmark moment yet! Next to Homer's lovingly-arranged corpse is a pillow - still bearing the indentation mark of recent use - with one of Emily's long, gray hairs on it.
So as you can see, the idea of celebrating William Faulkner's death-day isn't particularly morbid after all.
What's most important is that - just as with his writing - we are able to maintain enough presence of mind that the dark and disgusting parts don't distract us from the larger message.
What, then, is "A Rose for Emily" really about? You could argue that it's an allegory for the slow process of modernization in the South.
After all, the aging Miss Emily endures painfully in a town where she has long-since outlived her usefulness - a fact which is mirrored in the cyclical structure of a story that just can't seem to let her go.
With her, she brings the unburied ghosts of the past into the present, forcing her peers to relive their own dark history.
(We let our children take painting lessons from WHOM?!) Or, you could be a little more general and go with Faulkner's claim that it's about "the simple things which all human beings want.
" You know, if that's what you're into.
Although the date of someone's demise isn't the kind of thing we typically celebrate (what, no piñatas?), we must remember that Faulkner's writing relied heavily on themes of death and decay, and that he would never have us flinch in the face of his - or anyone else's - mortality.
What Faulkner would have us flinch in the face of, apparently, was his writing, which teems with convoluted plots, impossibly long sentences, classical allusions, time shifts, narrator shifts, and a really, really - what's it called? - big vocabulary.
(Hemingway famously criticized: "Poor Faulkner.
Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He thinks I don't know all the ten-dollar words.
I know them all right.
" Uh huh.
Sounds like someone's got a case of word envy.
) Throw all that on top of the fact that Faulkner's Southern Gothic writing is teeming with dark humor, morbidity, grotesque characters, and undercurrents of racism and bigotry, and you don't exactly end up with the kind of novel you read at the beach.
(Just two Nobel Prizes in literature.
) If you're looking for something with which to honor the man on his death-day, you might try the significantly more manageable "A Rose for Emily.
" This gothic short story is all about social convention, alienation, forbidden love, murder, and some seriously macabre romantic preferences.
Think "Twilight," minus all the sex.
(We hope.
) True to style, this story begins at a funeral.
A lighthearted yet thought-provoking funeral followed by four weddings? Not a chance.
The year is around 1930, and the funeral is being held for Miss Emily Grierson, an aged Southern belle whose overbearing father crippled her chances of ever having a normal love life.
Flashback to the 1890's: when Emily's father finally bites the dust, leaving his 30-year-old spinster daughter with a house but no money, Emily sequesters herself in her room for three days before admitting he has passed.
Taking pity on her situation, the townspeople decide to exempt her from paying any further taxes.
Life goes back to normal and Emily sticks with what she does best: living as a shut-in.
That is, until a fun-loving but potentially shiesty Northerner named Homer Barron comes to town and is seen driving around with her.
The wild speculation begins.
Are they getting married? Are they breaking up? Have they gotten back together? Is he gay? No, seriously, is he gay? Because it's Mississippi in the 1890's here, people.
Interestingly, when Homer tries to leave Emily (who has just been buying arsenic) and is last seen entering her house, all the speculation seems to stop.
In fact, when the weird smell appears, the townspeople kindly sprinkle lime all around the house.
No questions asked.
(In all fairness, he was a Northerner.
) For the next thirty-something years - with the exception of a several-year stint in which the young ladies go to her house for painting lessons - Emily lives out her life in complete solitude.
And then dies, bringing our story full-circle.
With Emily's funeral out of the way, the townspeople can finally go inside the house and investigate.
And what awaits them there in the bed of the bridal chamber? It's none other than Homer Barron, naturally! (Very naturally, in fact.
Think processes-of-nature naturally.
) But wait, we haven't even gotten to the real Hallmark moment yet! Next to Homer's lovingly-arranged corpse is a pillow - still bearing the indentation mark of recent use - with one of Emily's long, gray hairs on it.
So as you can see, the idea of celebrating William Faulkner's death-day isn't particularly morbid after all.
What's most important is that - just as with his writing - we are able to maintain enough presence of mind that the dark and disgusting parts don't distract us from the larger message.
What, then, is "A Rose for Emily" really about? You could argue that it's an allegory for the slow process of modernization in the South.
After all, the aging Miss Emily endures painfully in a town where she has long-since outlived her usefulness - a fact which is mirrored in the cyclical structure of a story that just can't seem to let her go.
With her, she brings the unburied ghosts of the past into the present, forcing her peers to relive their own dark history.
(We let our children take painting lessons from WHOM?!) Or, you could be a little more general and go with Faulkner's claim that it's about "the simple things which all human beings want.
" You know, if that's what you're into.