Absalom, Absalom!, by William Faulkner
Absalom, Absalom!, by William Faulkner
It seems that this demaon—his name was Sutpen--(Colonel Sutpen)—Colonel Sutpen. Who came out of nowhere and without warning upon the land with a band of strange niggers and built a plantation—(Tore violently a plantation, Miss Rosa Coldfeld says)—tore violently. And married her sister Ellen and begot a son and daughter which—(Without gentleness begot, Miss Rosa Coldfeld says)—without gentleness. Which should have been the jewels of his pride and the shield and comfort of his old age, only –(Only they destroyed him or something or he destroyed them or something. And died)—and died. Without regret, Miss Rosa Coldfield says—(Save by her) Yes, save by her. (And by Quentin Compson) Yes. And by Quentin Compson.
I rank this one second tier among Faulkner’s works, behind his masterpieces The Sound and the Fury, Light in August, and The Hamlet. Some critics apparently call it his best book of all; I found it too annoying to appreciate whatever literary greatness it has.
Faulkner is clearly trying to construct an epic Greek-style tragedy within the confines of rural Mississippi. Unfortunately, being set in rural Mississippi (as opposed to, I guess, *urban* Mississippi), the plot must necessarily revolve around slavery, racism, miscegenation, incest, squalid poverty and limited education. Few of the characters are likable; the people of Jefferson before, during and after the civil war, are the type who form mobs to lynch suspicious looking people before getting around to asking whether they did anything wrong.
Into that environment comes the mysterious stranger Thomas Sutpen. Nobody knows anything about his past, but they assume it must be a bad one. Sutpen’s first act in town is to swindle a drunk Indian out of 100 square miles of virgin land outside of town. His second act is to bring in a bunch of slaves and fancy furniture, and to build the biggest antebellum mansion this side of Tara.. His third act is to arrange a marriage and to set about begetting children.
Sutpen, you see, wants to be a paterfamilias. And he is Faulkner’s idea of a “Great Man”, by which we mean one who is by golly supposed to be admired for his single-minded determination and sense of purpose, his fixation on meeting his special dream, and never mind that his means to get there are atrocious and that he brings misery and destruction to anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way, or even to be standing by.
Fitzgerald did this much better with The Great Gatsby.
We’re never told exactly how Sutpen gets the land from the Indians, or where the lavish furnishings of his mansion come from, or the details of his courtship. Most of the story consists of characters who were peripheral to the Sutpen story or not yet born for most of it, discussing it decades after the fact without knowing the details. However, it seems clear that Sutpen never offers anything of value; he merely acquires what he wants, for he is a single-minded great Man, to be admired, except when he is to be pitied. I neither admired nor pitied him, though I did feel some pity for the entire region, which was apparently targeted for destruction by Sherman’s army solely so that history could witness the destruction of the Great Man’s mansion so soon after it was built.
The non-sequential telling of the saga of Sutpen and his children isn’t quite as confusing as the narration of The Sound and the Fury; however, there is a helpful chronology of the main events supplied by Faulkner in the back of the book, and a genealogy of the family. I don’t recommend turning to it unless you need help unraveling it; it contains major plot spoilers. If you know that Absalom was the son of High King David, who wailed Absalom’s name twice in agony on learning that the boy had been slain while making war against his father, you do have some idea of where the plot goes.
Trigger warnings for racism, from frequent use of the n-word to narrative that assumes without assertion that dusky-skinned people are no more civilized than monkeys, nor any more deserving of rights or dignity. Whites in Faulkner country consider incest more acceptable than mixed race relations, though they practice them anyhow, as they devolve from antebellum cultured gentry to tea party crackers and Jeff Foxworthy jokes. To be read only when you’re in a certain mood.
It seems that this demaon—his name was Sutpen--(Colonel Sutpen)—Colonel Sutpen. Who came out of nowhere and without warning upon the land with a band of strange niggers and built a plantation—(Tore violently a plantation, Miss Rosa Coldfeld says)—tore violently. And married her sister Ellen and begot a son and daughter which—(Without gentleness begot, Miss Rosa Coldfeld says)—without gentleness. Which should have been the jewels of his pride and the shield and comfort of his old age, only –(Only they destroyed him or something or he destroyed them or something. And died)—and died. Without regret, Miss Rosa Coldfield says—(Save by her) Yes, save by her. (And by Quentin Compson) Yes. And by Quentin Compson.
I rank this one second tier among Faulkner’s works, behind his masterpieces The Sound and the Fury, Light in August, and The Hamlet. Some critics apparently call it his best book of all; I found it too annoying to appreciate whatever literary greatness it has.
Faulkner is clearly trying to construct an epic Greek-style tragedy within the confines of rural Mississippi. Unfortunately, being set in rural Mississippi (as opposed to, I guess, *urban* Mississippi), the plot must necessarily revolve around slavery, racism, miscegenation, incest, squalid poverty and limited education. Few of the characters are likable; the people of Jefferson before, during and after the civil war, are the type who form mobs to lynch suspicious looking people before getting around to asking whether they did anything wrong.
Into that environment comes the mysterious stranger Thomas Sutpen. Nobody knows anything about his past, but they assume it must be a bad one. Sutpen’s first act in town is to swindle a drunk Indian out of 100 square miles of virgin land outside of town. His second act is to bring in a bunch of slaves and fancy furniture, and to build the biggest antebellum mansion this side of Tara.. His third act is to arrange a marriage and to set about begetting children.
Sutpen, you see, wants to be a paterfamilias. And he is Faulkner’s idea of a “Great Man”, by which we mean one who is by golly supposed to be admired for his single-minded determination and sense of purpose, his fixation on meeting his special dream, and never mind that his means to get there are atrocious and that he brings misery and destruction to anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way, or even to be standing by.
Fitzgerald did this much better with The Great Gatsby.
We’re never told exactly how Sutpen gets the land from the Indians, or where the lavish furnishings of his mansion come from, or the details of his courtship. Most of the story consists of characters who were peripheral to the Sutpen story or not yet born for most of it, discussing it decades after the fact without knowing the details. However, it seems clear that Sutpen never offers anything of value; he merely acquires what he wants, for he is a single-minded great Man, to be admired, except when he is to be pitied. I neither admired nor pitied him, though I did feel some pity for the entire region, which was apparently targeted for destruction by Sherman’s army solely so that history could witness the destruction of the Great Man’s mansion so soon after it was built.
The non-sequential telling of the saga of Sutpen and his children isn’t quite as confusing as the narration of The Sound and the Fury; however, there is a helpful chronology of the main events supplied by Faulkner in the back of the book, and a genealogy of the family. I don’t recommend turning to it unless you need help unraveling it; it contains major plot spoilers. If you know that Absalom was the son of High King David, who wailed Absalom’s name twice in agony on learning that the boy had been slain while making war against his father, you do have some idea of where the plot goes.
Trigger warnings for racism, from frequent use of the n-word to narrative that assumes without assertion that dusky-skinned people are no more civilized than monkeys, nor any more deserving of rights or dignity. Whites in Faulkner country consider incest more acceptable than mixed race relations, though they practice them anyhow, as they devolve from antebellum cultured gentry to tea party crackers and Jeff Foxworthy jokes. To be read only when you’re in a certain mood.