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Flags in the Dust
The complete text of Faulkner's third novel, published for the first time in 1973, appeared with his reluctant consent in a much cut version in 1929 as SARTORIS.
420 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1973
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1830 people want to read
About the author
William Faulkner
1,392 books10.8k followersWilliam Cuthbert Faulkner was an American writer. He is best known for his novels and short stories set in the fictional Yoknapatawpha County, Mississippi, a stand-in for Lafayette County where he spent most of his life. A Nobel laureate, Faulkner is one of the most celebrated writers of American literature and often is considered the greatest writer of Southern literature.
Faulkner was born in New Albany, Mississippi, and raised in Oxford, Mississippi. During World War I, he joined the Royal Canadian Air Force, but did not serve in combat. Returning to Oxford, he attended the University of Mississippi for three semesters before dropping out. He moved to New Orleans, where he wrote his first novel Soldiers' Pay (1925). He went back to Oxford and wrote Sartoris (1927), his first work set in the fictional Yoknapatawpha County. In 1929, he published The Sound and the Fury. The following year, he wrote As I Lay Dying. Later that decade, he wrote Light in August, Absalom, Absalom! and The Wild Palms. He also worked as a screenwriter, contributing to Howard Hawks's To Have and Have Not and The Big Sleep, adapted from Raymond Chandler's novel. The former film, adapted from Ernest Hemingway's novel, is the only film with contributions by two Nobel laureates.
Faulkner's reputation grew following publication of Malcolm Cowley's The Portable Faulkner, and he was awarded the 1949 Nobel Prize in Literature for "his powerful and unique contribution to the modern American novel." He is the only Mississippi-born Nobel laureate. Two of his works, A Fable (1954) and The Reivers (1962), won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. Faulkner died from a heart attack on July 6, 1962, following a fall from his horse the month before. Ralph Ellison called him "the greatest artist the South has produced".
Faulkner was born in New Albany, Mississippi, and raised in Oxford, Mississippi. During World War I, he joined the Royal Canadian Air Force, but did not serve in combat. Returning to Oxford, he attended the University of Mississippi for three semesters before dropping out. He moved to New Orleans, where he wrote his first novel Soldiers' Pay (1925). He went back to Oxford and wrote Sartoris (1927), his first work set in the fictional Yoknapatawpha County. In 1929, he published The Sound and the Fury. The following year, he wrote As I Lay Dying. Later that decade, he wrote Light in August, Absalom, Absalom! and The Wild Palms. He also worked as a screenwriter, contributing to Howard Hawks's To Have and Have Not and The Big Sleep, adapted from Raymond Chandler's novel. The former film, adapted from Ernest Hemingway's novel, is the only film with contributions by two Nobel laureates.
Faulkner's reputation grew following publication of Malcolm Cowley's The Portable Faulkner, and he was awarded the 1949 Nobel Prize in Literature for "his powerful and unique contribution to the modern American novel." He is the only Mississippi-born Nobel laureate. Two of his works, A Fable (1954) and The Reivers (1962), won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. Faulkner died from a heart attack on July 6, 1962, following a fall from his horse the month before. Ralph Ellison called him "the greatest artist the South has produced".
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Notes:
1. According to some critics, this particular volume of Faulkner’s is supposed to be godawful. It’s not. Some pages in fact are lush and lovely, if overwritten, which, let’s face it, has always been the author’s strength and failing. Faulkner wrote this third novel when he was about 28. The book was rejected by more than a dozen publishers before being accepted by Harcourt Brace, which cut it. The shorter form—Sartoris—was published in 1929; this fully restored version not until 1973.
2. Michael Gorra’s The Saddest Words: William Faulkner’s Civil War led me back to Flags, which has much to recommend it. It’s extraordinary, despite some rough sledding, because it contains the seeds of all later Yoknapatawpha County books—Light in August, The Sound and the Fury, Sanctuary, Absalom, Absalom!, Go Down, Moses, et al.—which would take Faulkner another dozen years to write.
3. The phonetic speech of the characters of color here borders on minstrelsy, which is unfortunate. This was very much the tenor of the time. Vaudeville was rife with such stereotyped depictions. Having said that, I think there’s an element here, too, of Faulkner’s inexperience writing dialect, since the poor whites also have their own wretched phonetic utterings. This was not the case in later novels, in which he found a simpler, more readable method, which seemed to subtly suggest such particularities of speech rather than sledgehammering them so awkwardly home.
4. Bayard Sartoris, who will appear in The Unvanquished (1938) as a fourteen year old, is here depicted as Old Bayard, age sixty or so. He is the son of the long dead Colonel Sartoris who gallivants in the later Civil War-era book. Both novels contain the tale about the Colonel’s inadvertent capture of an entire company of Union soldiers while blithely racing another rider. The story is told in this volume by old man Falls, page 249 on.
Bayard, old Bayard’s grandson, returns from WW1 in which he was a flyer and lost a brother. Young Bayard is PTSD’d to the Nth degree, yet he marries the local beauty, Narcissa, who is being sent anonymous erotic letters by a local bank teller whose last name is Snopes, while trying to extricate herself from a too-loving, near-incestous relationship with her brother. Skipped as unreadable pp. 339 to 350, which consists of Narcissa and her brother’s creepy exchanges.
5. Upsetting is the use of the N-word by white employers of people of color. There’s an imperious character here called Miss Jenny who should have her teeth kicked in. The word is never employed in this vicious manner in later Faulkner. But does one feel the depiction to be true to life? Yes, one does. (Being from the South myself.) The black servants, especially Simon, who work for the Sartorises, have a keen capacity for nuanced reply that this reader found most gratifying.
6. Much of the dramatis personae is already here in this first Yoknapatawpha County novel: the Snopeses; Ratliff, the sewing machine salesman; the Sartorises; the Benbows, the McCallums, the McCaslins. Not to mention familiar locales such as Jefferson (based on Faulkner‘s hometown of Oxford Mississippi), Frenchman’s Bend, Will Varner’s store, Miss Littlejohn's boarding house, et al.
1. According to some critics, this particular volume of Faulkner’s is supposed to be godawful. It’s not. Some pages in fact are lush and lovely, if overwritten, which, let’s face it, has always been the author’s strength and failing. Faulkner wrote this third novel when he was about 28. The book was rejected by more than a dozen publishers before being accepted by Harcourt Brace, which cut it. The shorter form—Sartoris—was published in 1929; this fully restored version not until 1973.
2. Michael Gorra’s The Saddest Words: William Faulkner’s Civil War led me back to Flags, which has much to recommend it. It’s extraordinary, despite some rough sledding, because it contains the seeds of all later Yoknapatawpha County books—Light in August, The Sound and the Fury, Sanctuary, Absalom, Absalom!, Go Down, Moses, et al.—which would take Faulkner another dozen years to write.
3. The phonetic speech of the characters of color here borders on minstrelsy, which is unfortunate. This was very much the tenor of the time. Vaudeville was rife with such stereotyped depictions. Having said that, I think there’s an element here, too, of Faulkner’s inexperience writing dialect, since the poor whites also have their own wretched phonetic utterings. This was not the case in later novels, in which he found a simpler, more readable method, which seemed to subtly suggest such particularities of speech rather than sledgehammering them so awkwardly home.
4. Bayard Sartoris, who will appear in The Unvanquished (1938) as a fourteen year old, is here depicted as Old Bayard, age sixty or so. He is the son of the long dead Colonel Sartoris who gallivants in the later Civil War-era book. Both novels contain the tale about the Colonel’s inadvertent capture of an entire company of Union soldiers while blithely racing another rider. The story is told in this volume by old man Falls, page 249 on.
Bayard, old Bayard’s grandson, returns from WW1 in which he was a flyer and lost a brother. Young Bayard is PTSD’d to the Nth degree, yet he marries the local beauty, Narcissa, who is being sent anonymous erotic letters by a local bank teller whose last name is Snopes, while trying to extricate herself from a too-loving, near-incestous relationship with her brother. Skipped as unreadable pp. 339 to 350, which consists of Narcissa and her brother’s creepy exchanges.
5. Upsetting is the use of the N-word by white employers of people of color. There’s an imperious character here called Miss Jenny who should have her teeth kicked in. The word is never employed in this vicious manner in later Faulkner. But does one feel the depiction to be true to life? Yes, one does. (Being from the South myself.) The black servants, especially Simon, who work for the Sartorises, have a keen capacity for nuanced reply that this reader found most gratifying.
6. Much of the dramatis personae is already here in this first Yoknapatawpha County novel: the Snopeses; Ratliff, the sewing machine salesman; the Sartorises; the Benbows, the McCallums, the McCaslins. Not to mention familiar locales such as Jefferson (based on Faulkner‘s hometown of Oxford Mississippi), Frenchman’s Bend, Will Varner’s store, Miss Littlejohn's boarding house, et al.
December 29, 2014
Flags in the Dust: William Faulkner's Creation of Yoknapatawpha County
Flags in the Dust, First Ed., Random House, New York, New York (1973)
Flags in the Dust was selected as a group read by members of On the Southern Literary Trail for the month of December, 2014. Special thanks to Trail Member Kirk Smith who nominated this work.
February 7, 2012
I graduated from the University of Alabama in 1973. I went there intending to become a professor of history. I changed my mind during a lecture my second semester in the History of Western Civilization when a college athlete began snoring behind me as one of my favorite professors was earnestly addressing the closing days of World War II.
When I completed college, I had a BA with a major in psychology and a double minor in English and Latin. Two beloved Classics Professors were urging me to enter the Graduate program at the University of Mississippi. I had been awarded the W.B. Saffolds Classics award for three years. I would have probably taken it the fourth year, but I finished my degree requirements a semester early. As I had decided not to be a history professor, I also decided I didn't want to be Mr. Chips.
I also decided I didn't want to be a psychologist. The vagaries of youth and the arrogance of it can be astounding in retrospect. I became a lawyer instead. Damned if I didn't try to be Atticus Finch and Gavin Stevens all rolled into one churning burning trial attorney. And I did that as a prosecuting attorney for almost twenty-eight years.
I drove home today from Oxford, Mississippi. I visited the Classics Department I didn't attend and felt a slight tug of regret. Actually, it was more than slight. As everyone experiences at one time or another, I wondered, "What if I had..."
Before I left, I went to the Faulkner Room in the John Williams Library on the Campus of the University of Mississippi. There, in a beautiful wooden case, was the Nobel Prize awarded to Faulkner in 1950.
Beneath that were shelves of pristine first edition, first printings of all his works. My eye was drawn particularly to a beautiful red volume with bold horizontal black stripes. In a blank field of red in bold letters was "Sartoris." In a smaller field, in smaller letters was the name "William Faulkner."
Sartoris, First Ed., Harcourt Brace, New York, New York
There is nothing to indicate what appears within the pages between the covers. There is nothing to judge by it. Nor, I imagine, could any prospective buyer of that book in 1929 anticipated that what was contained inside it was the creation of a new world.
Horace Liveright, had first dibs on Faulkner's novel. Faulkner's title was Flags in the Dust. Liveright's firm had published Faulkner's first two novels, Soldiers' Pay and Mosquitoes. However, Flags in the Dust logged in at nearly six hundred pages. Liveright read it, didn't like it, rejected it, and advised Faulkner not to seek publication anywhere. Liveright's criticism was it was too big, too diffuse, it lacked an overall plot. Forget it. Trash it. Faulkner was crushed.
Horace Liveright of Boni & Liveright; looked good in a suit, but don't ask him to spot a future winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature
Faulkner's attempt to introduce the world of Yoknapatawpha County became a struggle of frustrating rejection. After Liveright's stunning refusal, Faulkner turned to his agent, Ben Wasson in New York. The news wasn't good. Eleven publishers. Eleven rejections.
Ben Wasson, William Faulkner's friend, agent, and one of many biographers
However, Wasson was persistent. He showed the manuscript to Harrison Smith an editor at Harcourt Brace. Smith liked it, showed it to Alfred Harcourt who agreed to publish it provided it was edited into a manageable size and that Faulkner wasn't the editor. Wasson agreed to do the editing for Fifty Dollars. Faulkner came to New York. The contract was signed. Faulkner kept his nose out of Wasson's editing. He passed the time working on a new novel, again set in Yoknapatawpha County. It would be The Sound and the Fury. Flags in the Dust became named Sartoris. Who or how that came to pass has been lost to literary history.
Faulkner dedicated Sartoris to Sherwood Anderson. "To Sherwood Anderson through whose kindness I was first published with the belief that this book will give him no reason to regret it"
Each year I am drawn to William Faulkner country. I have been there so many times. With each visit, I discover a little more about the man and the people of the land that held such influence over him. Walk into Rowan Oak and I still feel his presence. How can you not? There is his study, his library. The books on the shelves he built himself when he bought what was known as the old Bailey Place in Bailey's Woods, down the Taylor Road. The double rows of towering cedar trees almost obscure the house from the entrance to the old house.
When reading Faulkner, it is hard to tell where the history, the legend ends, and the fiction begins. That is especially the case when considering Sartoris, Harcourt Brace & Company, New York, 1929. Nothing could be truer than the words of William Faulkner at the University of Virginia when he was the writer in residence there.
What a debt of gratitude the world owes to Sherwood Anderson who met the young William Faulkner in New Orleans. Basically he told him his first two novels were failures because he had attempted to write of a world of which he was not a part. It was Faulkner who created Yoknapatawpha County, but it was Anderson who planted the seed that yielded the crop of Faulkner's Canon.
You cannot find Faulkner's County just walking the Square in Oxford. His grandfather's bank building is still there, now a clothing store called Duvall's. The old man conducted business from a chair, leaned back against the wall by the bank's open door during the hot Mississippi summer afternoons. Mack Reed's drugstore, where Faulkner checked out his mystery novels is gone. Even the sign over the store front that now houses a trendy boutique leaves no evidence that Reed or Faulkner were ever there.
Down Jefferson street there is the cemetery where Faulkner and some of his family are buried. Their deaths outgrew the original family plot. Faulkner, wife Estelle, a stepson, and daughter Alabama are some distance away. Nor is there any evidence that his infant daughter lies near him, her marker stolen years ago.
But in the original family plot, there is Dean, killed in a plane crash outside Pontotoc in 1935. There is brother John, also a writer. There is mother Maude, father Murry, his grandfather and grandmother J.W.T. and Sallie Faulkner. His grandparents' obelisk looms over that plot. And it is in that image that the ghosts of Faulkner's past begin to take shape in the pages that tell the story of Yoknapatawpha County.
Yet, that is not enough. You must go further. You must walk the streets of Ripley, Mississippi, the home of his great grandfather. Here, too, is a statue of a man. Twenty two feet tall, the Old Colonel William Clark Falkner stands in formal attire.
The Grave of The Old Colonel William Clark Falkner, Ripley, Mississippi
Falkner, who killed a man with a Bowie knife when he was twenty-three. Falkner, who shot and killed a man when he was twenty-five. Falkner, gunned down in another courthouse square by a political opponent he had bested in an election. Falkner, who had been a cavalry officer for the Confederacy. Falkner, who built a railroad across northern Mississippi.
The origins of Faulkner's County are there. The patriarchs of the Sartoris family begin there.
Even Faulkner knew he had begun the creation of an entire world when he submitted the manuscript of Sartoris for publication. He knew it was special, something new, something not ever seen before. Faulkner wrote to his publisher, Horace Liveright, "At last and certainly, I have written THE book, of which those other things were but foals. I believe it is the damdest best book you'll look at this year, and any other publisher". Joseph Blotner,Faulkner: A Biography, two volumes, Random House, New York, 1974.
Young Bayard Sartoris returns to Jefferson after World War One. He and his twin brother John had been fighter pilots. John didn't make it home. Young Bayard lives in the shadow of the Old Colonel Bayard Sartoris who had fought in the Civil War. Old Bayard, his grandfather, runs the bank in Jefferson.
Whether it is the death of brother John, or the folk heroism of the Old Colonel that serves as a ghost of the past whose challenge he could not meet, whether it is the death of his young wife and child, Young Bayard is a member of what will become known as the "Lost Generation." Young Bayard lives wildly and recklessly, courting death with increasingly dangerous behavior. Without question Young Bayard is not only the sum of his past, but the past of his forefathers.
Young Bayard's return to Jefferson cannot last. Not even his marriage to Narcissa Benbow and the upcoming birth of another child will hold him at home. Perhaps the only way he can escape the past is with his own death which he increasingly seeks in his destructive behavior.
Yet, Sartoris is not just the story of one family. Faulkner weaves in character after character with whom we will become more familiar as Faulkner returns to them from short stories to novel after novel.
Beginning with this novel, Faulkner uproots the cornerstone of the aristocracy following the American Civil War. Faulkner maps out a changing South, caught in the past, but always trying to escape it. This is the turning point of Faulkner from fledgling writer to Faulkner, the Modernist, on his path to Sweden and a Nobel Prize, two Pulitzers, two National Book Awards, and a Legion of Honor for good measure. Cleanth Brooks rightly compared Sartoris to T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland. William Faulkner: The Yoknapatawpha Country, New Haven, The Yale University Press, 1963.
This year marks the 100th Anniversary of William Faulkner's death. The Annual Faulkner Conference will begin on the precise date, July 6, 2012. I plan to return to Faulkner Country for this conference. Not only will I attend, I'll be a student this year, enrolled in a class devoted to teaching Faulkner to High School Students.
Will I become a teacher? I'm not sure. There's a lot to think about. But I hear Gavin Stevens whispering in my ear, "The past is never dead. It's not even past."
Edit: This review is shared for the benefit of goodreads group "On the Southern Literary Trail," and to draw any other readers to Faulkner's first Yoknapatawpha County novel.
Mike Sullivan
Founder and Moderator
"On the Southern Literary Trail"
April 6-May 23, 2014
My goodreads friend Sue Drees and I became involved in a discussion about William Faulkner and whether to read Sartoris or Flags in the Dust. Random House finally published Flags in the Dust in 1973. Finally, Faulkner had gotten his wish, though dead since 1962. We decided on a buddy read of the manner in which Bill Faulkner intended we be introduced to Yoknapatawpha County. Neither of us was disappointed.
Flags in the Dust is an incredibly rich reading experience. There is much more for the reader to consider and discover. I've read twiceSartoris, and Flags in the Dust once. Should I return to the beginning of Mr. Faulkner's County, it will be as he originally intended
I've often been asked where does one begin reading William Faulkner? My original answer was Sartoris. Now, it is Flags in the Dust. Today, Faulkner's original creation is considered the standard version. That's the version you'll find in the Library of America.
The Rest of the Story
December 28, 2014
I did not become a teacher in the formal sense. It is an ironic commentary on the values our society places upon things. Having lived a life of public service, I earned a State Employee's retirement. To become a teacher in my home state, I would have to give up my State retirement as a career prosecuting attorney. I could not live on a teacher's salary, as much as I would like to teach. I believe I would be a good one. However, the good people of my State do not believe in fighting for the worth of a teacher's services, though they believe in their children's receiving a good education. Life's funny that way, isn't it? A simple matter of self interest on my part as well as grown ups with children. Folks my age who've done their time as parents. All the legislators who promise no new taxes. A state with the lowest property taxes in the country.
Oh, I suppose I could practice private law, but that's not where my heart is. So I am done with apple picking time. I maintain a "Special Law License," which allows me to return to practice should I decide to do so.
However, I am content. And in my own way, if I should happen to place a book in the hands of some reader through the words I write, why...I have taught a little something. And that's quite enough for me.
It's about time for a trip to Faulkner Country. It's good for the soul.
EXTRAS!
William Faulkner Answers Questions about Sartoris/Flags in the Dust at the University of Virginia, April 28, 1958.
Flags in the Dust Character List See how many character names you recognize that appear in later Faulkner novels. He didn't have everything mapped out. V.K. Ratliff, my favorite sewing machine salesman, appears in Flags in the Dust as V.K. Suratt.
Flags in the Dust, First Ed., Random House, New York, New York (1973)
Flags in the Dust was selected as a group read by members of On the Southern Literary Trail for the month of December, 2014. Special thanks to Trail Member Kirk Smith who nominated this work.
William Faulkner at the University of Virginia, 1957
"No man is himself, he is the sum of his past.”
Faulkner in the University, University of Virginia Press, 1995
February 7, 2012
I graduated from the University of Alabama in 1973. I went there intending to become a professor of history. I changed my mind during a lecture my second semester in the History of Western Civilization when a college athlete began snoring behind me as one of my favorite professors was earnestly addressing the closing days of World War II.
When I completed college, I had a BA with a major in psychology and a double minor in English and Latin. Two beloved Classics Professors were urging me to enter the Graduate program at the University of Mississippi. I had been awarded the W.B. Saffolds Classics award for three years. I would have probably taken it the fourth year, but I finished my degree requirements a semester early. As I had decided not to be a history professor, I also decided I didn't want to be Mr. Chips.
I also decided I didn't want to be a psychologist. The vagaries of youth and the arrogance of it can be astounding in retrospect. I became a lawyer instead. Damned if I didn't try to be Atticus Finch and Gavin Stevens all rolled into one churning burning trial attorney. And I did that as a prosecuting attorney for almost twenty-eight years.
I drove home today from Oxford, Mississippi. I visited the Classics Department I didn't attend and felt a slight tug of regret. Actually, it was more than slight. As everyone experiences at one time or another, I wondered, "What if I had..."
Before I left, I went to the Faulkner Room in the John Williams Library on the Campus of the University of Mississippi. There, in a beautiful wooden case, was the Nobel Prize awarded to Faulkner in 1950.
Beneath that were shelves of pristine first edition, first printings of all his works. My eye was drawn particularly to a beautiful red volume with bold horizontal black stripes. In a blank field of red in bold letters was "Sartoris." In a smaller field, in smaller letters was the name "William Faulkner."
Sartoris, First Ed., Harcourt Brace, New York, New York
There is nothing to indicate what appears within the pages between the covers. There is nothing to judge by it. Nor, I imagine, could any prospective buyer of that book in 1929 anticipated that what was contained inside it was the creation of a new world.
Horace Liveright, had first dibs on Faulkner's novel. Faulkner's title was Flags in the Dust. Liveright's firm had published Faulkner's first two novels, Soldiers' Pay and Mosquitoes. However, Flags in the Dust logged in at nearly six hundred pages. Liveright read it, didn't like it, rejected it, and advised Faulkner not to seek publication anywhere. Liveright's criticism was it was too big, too diffuse, it lacked an overall plot. Forget it. Trash it. Faulkner was crushed.
Horace Liveright of Boni & Liveright; looked good in a suit, but don't ask him to spot a future winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature
Faulkner's attempt to introduce the world of Yoknapatawpha County became a struggle of frustrating rejection. After Liveright's stunning refusal, Faulkner turned to his agent, Ben Wasson in New York. The news wasn't good. Eleven publishers. Eleven rejections.
Ben Wasson, William Faulkner's friend, agent, and one of many biographers
However, Wasson was persistent. He showed the manuscript to Harrison Smith an editor at Harcourt Brace. Smith liked it, showed it to Alfred Harcourt who agreed to publish it provided it was edited into a manageable size and that Faulkner wasn't the editor. Wasson agreed to do the editing for Fifty Dollars. Faulkner came to New York. The contract was signed. Faulkner kept his nose out of Wasson's editing. He passed the time working on a new novel, again set in Yoknapatawpha County. It would be The Sound and the Fury. Flags in the Dust became named Sartoris. Who or how that came to pass has been lost to literary history.
Faulkner dedicated Sartoris to Sherwood Anderson. "To Sherwood Anderson through whose kindness I was first published with the belief that this book will give him no reason to regret it"
Each year I am drawn to William Faulkner country. I have been there so many times. With each visit, I discover a little more about the man and the people of the land that held such influence over him. Walk into Rowan Oak and I still feel his presence. How can you not? There is his study, his library. The books on the shelves he built himself when he bought what was known as the old Bailey Place in Bailey's Woods, down the Taylor Road. The double rows of towering cedar trees almost obscure the house from the entrance to the old house.
When reading Faulkner, it is hard to tell where the history, the legend ends, and the fiction begins. That is especially the case when considering Sartoris, Harcourt Brace & Company, New York, 1929. Nothing could be truer than the words of William Faulkner at the University of Virginia when he was the writer in residence there.
What a debt of gratitude the world owes to Sherwood Anderson who met the young William Faulkner in New Orleans. Basically he told him his first two novels were failures because he had attempted to write of a world of which he was not a part. It was Faulkner who created Yoknapatawpha County, but it was Anderson who planted the seed that yielded the crop of Faulkner's Canon.
You cannot find Faulkner's County just walking the Square in Oxford. His grandfather's bank building is still there, now a clothing store called Duvall's. The old man conducted business from a chair, leaned back against the wall by the bank's open door during the hot Mississippi summer afternoons. Mack Reed's drugstore, where Faulkner checked out his mystery novels is gone. Even the sign over the store front that now houses a trendy boutique leaves no evidence that Reed or Faulkner were ever there.
Down Jefferson street there is the cemetery where Faulkner and some of his family are buried. Their deaths outgrew the original family plot. Faulkner, wife Estelle, a stepson, and daughter Alabama are some distance away. Nor is there any evidence that his infant daughter lies near him, her marker stolen years ago.
But in the original family plot, there is Dean, killed in a plane crash outside Pontotoc in 1935. There is brother John, also a writer. There is mother Maude, father Murry, his grandfather and grandmother J.W.T. and Sallie Faulkner. His grandparents' obelisk looms over that plot. And it is in that image that the ghosts of Faulkner's past begin to take shape in the pages that tell the story of Yoknapatawpha County.
Yet, that is not enough. You must go further. You must walk the streets of Ripley, Mississippi, the home of his great grandfather. Here, too, is a statue of a man. Twenty two feet tall, the Old Colonel William Clark Falkner stands in formal attire.
The Grave of The Old Colonel William Clark Falkner, Ripley, Mississippi
Falkner, who killed a man with a Bowie knife when he was twenty-three. Falkner, who shot and killed a man when he was twenty-five. Falkner, gunned down in another courthouse square by a political opponent he had bested in an election. Falkner, who had been a cavalry officer for the Confederacy. Falkner, who built a railroad across northern Mississippi.
The origins of Faulkner's County are there. The patriarchs of the Sartoris family begin there.
Even Faulkner knew he had begun the creation of an entire world when he submitted the manuscript of Sartoris for publication. He knew it was special, something new, something not ever seen before. Faulkner wrote to his publisher, Horace Liveright, "At last and certainly, I have written THE book, of which those other things were but foals. I believe it is the damdest best book you'll look at this year, and any other publisher". Joseph Blotner,Faulkner: A Biography, two volumes, Random House, New York, 1974.
Young Bayard Sartoris returns to Jefferson after World War One. He and his twin brother John had been fighter pilots. John didn't make it home. Young Bayard lives in the shadow of the Old Colonel Bayard Sartoris who had fought in the Civil War. Old Bayard, his grandfather, runs the bank in Jefferson.
Whether it is the death of brother John, or the folk heroism of the Old Colonel that serves as a ghost of the past whose challenge he could not meet, whether it is the death of his young wife and child, Young Bayard is a member of what will become known as the "Lost Generation." Young Bayard lives wildly and recklessly, courting death with increasingly dangerous behavior. Without question Young Bayard is not only the sum of his past, but the past of his forefathers.
Young Bayard's return to Jefferson cannot last. Not even his marriage to Narcissa Benbow and the upcoming birth of another child will hold him at home. Perhaps the only way he can escape the past is with his own death which he increasingly seeks in his destructive behavior.
Yet, Sartoris is not just the story of one family. Faulkner weaves in character after character with whom we will become more familiar as Faulkner returns to them from short stories to novel after novel.
Beginning with this novel, Faulkner uproots the cornerstone of the aristocracy following the American Civil War. Faulkner maps out a changing South, caught in the past, but always trying to escape it. This is the turning point of Faulkner from fledgling writer to Faulkner, the Modernist, on his path to Sweden and a Nobel Prize, two Pulitzers, two National Book Awards, and a Legion of Honor for good measure. Cleanth Brooks rightly compared Sartoris to T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland. William Faulkner: The Yoknapatawpha Country, New Haven, The Yale University Press, 1963.
This year marks the 100th Anniversary of William Faulkner's death. The Annual Faulkner Conference will begin on the precise date, July 6, 2012. I plan to return to Faulkner Country for this conference. Not only will I attend, I'll be a student this year, enrolled in a class devoted to teaching Faulkner to High School Students.
Will I become a teacher? I'm not sure. There's a lot to think about. But I hear Gavin Stevens whispering in my ear, "The past is never dead. It's not even past."
Edit: This review is shared for the benefit of goodreads group "On the Southern Literary Trail," and to draw any other readers to Faulkner's first Yoknapatawpha County novel.
Mike Sullivan
Founder and Moderator
"On the Southern Literary Trail"
April 6-May 23, 2014
My goodreads friend Sue Drees and I became involved in a discussion about William Faulkner and whether to read Sartoris or Flags in the Dust. Random House finally published Flags in the Dust in 1973. Finally, Faulkner had gotten his wish, though dead since 1962. We decided on a buddy read of the manner in which Bill Faulkner intended we be introduced to Yoknapatawpha County. Neither of us was disappointed.
Flags in the Dust is an incredibly rich reading experience. There is much more for the reader to consider and discover. I've read twiceSartoris, and Flags in the Dust once. Should I return to the beginning of Mr. Faulkner's County, it will be as he originally intended
I've often been asked where does one begin reading William Faulkner? My original answer was Sartoris. Now, it is Flags in the Dust. Today, Faulkner's original creation is considered the standard version. That's the version you'll find in the Library of America.
The Rest of the Story
December 28, 2014
I did not become a teacher in the formal sense. It is an ironic commentary on the values our society places upon things. Having lived a life of public service, I earned a State Employee's retirement. To become a teacher in my home state, I would have to give up my State retirement as a career prosecuting attorney. I could not live on a teacher's salary, as much as I would like to teach. I believe I would be a good one. However, the good people of my State do not believe in fighting for the worth of a teacher's services, though they believe in their children's receiving a good education. Life's funny that way, isn't it? A simple matter of self interest on my part as well as grown ups with children. Folks my age who've done their time as parents. All the legislators who promise no new taxes. A state with the lowest property taxes in the country.
Oh, I suppose I could practice private law, but that's not where my heart is. So I am done with apple picking time. I maintain a "Special Law License," which allows me to return to practice should I decide to do so.
However, I am content. And in my own way, if I should happen to place a book in the hands of some reader through the words I write, why...I have taught a little something. And that's quite enough for me.
It's about time for a trip to Faulkner Country. It's good for the soul.
EXTRAS!
William Faulkner Answers Questions about Sartoris/Flags in the Dust at the University of Virginia, April 28, 1958.
Flags in the Dust Character List See how many character names you recognize that appear in later Faulkner novels. He didn't have everything mapped out. V.K. Ratliff, my favorite sewing machine salesman, appears in Flags in the Dust as V.K. Suratt.
August 4, 2014
I continue on my quest to read all of William Faulkner's works. Along the way I learned that the book titled Sartoris was really a publishers' creation and that Flags in the Dust is as close as possible to the book that Faulkner originally submitted to that publisher in 1927. I am very glad for my education in all things Faulkner (tip of proverbial hat to Mike Sullivan of On the Southern Literary Trail).
Perhaps the most amazing thing to me as I read this novel was the extent to which the vision of his own personal place and people had already formed with this his fourth novel. Of course Jefferson is the central town, but the Snopes incursion and proliferation has also been mentioned (as well as their general seediness). The themes are there: war, be it The War, or the more recent Great War; life and death; strong women and weak or beaten down men; what passes for "hospitality"; relations between black and white or master and servant.
As always, Faulkner's writing is often riveting. He hasn't reached the stream of consciousness technique he will use in the next book, The Sound and Fury. This book actually moves linearly and is very approachable. (The publication date of 1973 is for the resurrected copy published after Faulkner's death.)
Here Faulkner creates an indelible image of place for me.
Then with sudden decision he quitted the room and
tramped down the hall. At the end of the hall a stair mounted
into the darkness. He fumbled the light switch beside it and
mounted, following the cramped turnings cautiously in the
dark, to a door set at a difficult angle, and opened it upon a
broad, low room with a pitched ceiling, smelling of dust and
silence and ancient disused things.
The room was cluttered with indiscriminate furniture ---
chairs and sofas like patient ghosts holding lightly in dry and
rigid embrace yet other ghosts --- a fitting place for dead
Sartorises to gather and speak among themselves of glamorous
and old disastrous days. the unshaded light swung on a single
cord from the center of the ceiling. He unknotted it and drew
it across to a nail in the wall above a cedar chest. He
fastened it here and drew a chair across to the chest and sat
down.
The chest had not been opened since 1901, when his son John
Had succumbed to yellow fever and an old Spanish bullet-wound.
There had been two occasions since, in July and in October of
last year....Thus each opening was in a way ceremonial,
commemorating the violent finis to some phase of his family's
history, and while he struggled with the stiff lock it seemed
to him that a legion of ghosts breathed quietly at his
shoulder.... (pp 86-87)
And then Faulkner can produce more simple (for him!) snapshots of nature. There are many spread throughout the novel.
Water chuckled and murmured beneath the bridge, invisible
with twilight, its murmur burdened with the voice of cricket
and frog. Above the willows that marked the course of the
stream gnats still spun and whirled, for bullbats appeared
from nowhere in long swoops, in midswoop vanished, then
appeared again against the serene sky swooping, silent as
drops of water on a window-pane; swift and noiseless and
intent as though their wings were feathered with twilight and
with silence. (p 139)
Then there is young Bayard and his driving:
Nowadays he drove the car into town to fetch his
grandfather from habit alone, and though he still considered
forty five miles an hour merely cruising speed, he no longer
took cold and fiendish pleasure in turning curves on two
wheels or in detaching mules from wagons by striking the
whiffle-trees with his bumper in passing. (p 211)
Flags in the Dust offers so much to the reader. To those who are unsure about tackling Faulkner, it offers a story which runs a fairly normal narrative course, while touching on Faulkner's favorite themes. For those who already know and appreciate Faulkner, it's a look back on where so much was growing and developing.
Strongly recommended.
Perhaps the most amazing thing to me as I read this novel was the extent to which the vision of his own personal place and people had already formed with this his fourth novel. Of course Jefferson is the central town, but the Snopes incursion and proliferation has also been mentioned (as well as their general seediness). The themes are there: war, be it The War, or the more recent Great War; life and death; strong women and weak or beaten down men; what passes for "hospitality"; relations between black and white or master and servant.
As always, Faulkner's writing is often riveting. He hasn't reached the stream of consciousness technique he will use in the next book, The Sound and Fury. This book actually moves linearly and is very approachable. (The publication date of 1973 is for the resurrected copy published after Faulkner's death.)
Here Faulkner creates an indelible image of place for me.
Then with sudden decision he quitted the room and
tramped down the hall. At the end of the hall a stair mounted
into the darkness. He fumbled the light switch beside it and
mounted, following the cramped turnings cautiously in the
dark, to a door set at a difficult angle, and opened it upon a
broad, low room with a pitched ceiling, smelling of dust and
silence and ancient disused things.
The room was cluttered with indiscriminate furniture ---
chairs and sofas like patient ghosts holding lightly in dry and
rigid embrace yet other ghosts --- a fitting place for dead
Sartorises to gather and speak among themselves of glamorous
and old disastrous days. the unshaded light swung on a single
cord from the center of the ceiling. He unknotted it and drew
it across to a nail in the wall above a cedar chest. He
fastened it here and drew a chair across to the chest and sat
down.
The chest had not been opened since 1901, when his son John
Had succumbed to yellow fever and an old Spanish bullet-wound.
There had been two occasions since, in July and in October of
last year....Thus each opening was in a way ceremonial,
commemorating the violent finis to some phase of his family's
history, and while he struggled with the stiff lock it seemed
to him that a legion of ghosts breathed quietly at his
shoulder.... (pp 86-87)
And then Faulkner can produce more simple (for him!) snapshots of nature. There are many spread throughout the novel.
Water chuckled and murmured beneath the bridge, invisible
with twilight, its murmur burdened with the voice of cricket
and frog. Above the willows that marked the course of the
stream gnats still spun and whirled, for bullbats appeared
from nowhere in long swoops, in midswoop vanished, then
appeared again against the serene sky swooping, silent as
drops of water on a window-pane; swift and noiseless and
intent as though their wings were feathered with twilight and
with silence. (p 139)
Then there is young Bayard and his driving:
Nowadays he drove the car into town to fetch his
grandfather from habit alone, and though he still considered
forty five miles an hour merely cruising speed, he no longer
took cold and fiendish pleasure in turning curves on two
wheels or in detaching mules from wagons by striking the
whiffle-trees with his bumper in passing. (p 211)
Flags in the Dust offers so much to the reader. To those who are unsure about tackling Faulkner, it offers a story which runs a fairly normal narrative course, while touching on Faulkner's favorite themes. For those who already know and appreciate Faulkner, it's a look back on where so much was growing and developing.
Strongly recommended.
January 18, 2023
Il primo grande romanzo di faulkner scritto a 33 anni anzi pubblicato significa che ha iniziato a scrivere magari a 30 anni... Tutte le famiglie protagoniste dei romanzi di faulkner in questo caso l'ultima generazione della famiglia Sartoris, hanno un minimo comune denominatore... La dannazione. La stessa dannazione che accompagna i malavoglia di verga e i buendia di Marquez... Come se Dio stesso nell'alleanza che stipulò col genere umano non li abbia inseriti nella clausola o magari loro non l'hanno voluta sottoscrivere
March 6, 2022
“For there is death in the sound of it, and a glamorous fatality, like silver pennons downrushing at sunset, or a dying fall of horns along the road to Roncveaux.” p. 433
Faulkner’s 3rd book is also his first about Jefferson, MS in the heart of the mythic Faulknerian heartland of Yoknapatawpha County. In it, we meet old Bayard Sartoris “having been born too late for one war and too soon for the next one” and his grandson young Bayard with his somewhat suicidal love of fast cars. We also meet brother and sister Horace and Narcissa Benbow, the latter of which will unhappily marry the young Bayard. In typical Faulkner fashion, there is a mix of humor, loads of irony, and a heavy dose of fate dealt to each of the protagonists. We even get a peak at the Byron Snopes, old Bayard’s clerk who is obsessed in a very incel kind of way with Narcissa. Oh, and, again typical of Faulkner in which the past isn’t dead, it isn’t even past, there is the ghost of young Bayard’s brother Johnny, killed before his brother’s eyes in a dogfight in Normandy in WWI. It is an excellent novel.
Fun fact: Bayard Sartoris may be the 20th c’s first member of the suicide at 27 club.
Faulkner’s 3rd book is also his first about Jefferson, MS in the heart of the mythic Faulknerian heartland of Yoknapatawpha County. In it, we meet old Bayard Sartoris “having been born too late for one war and too soon for the next one” and his grandson young Bayard with his somewhat suicidal love of fast cars. We also meet brother and sister Horace and Narcissa Benbow, the latter of which will unhappily marry the young Bayard. In typical Faulkner fashion, there is a mix of humor, loads of irony, and a heavy dose of fate dealt to each of the protagonists. We even get a peak at the Byron Snopes, old Bayard’s clerk who is obsessed in a very incel kind of way with Narcissa. Oh, and, again typical of Faulkner in which the past isn’t dead, it isn’t even past, there is the ghost of young Bayard’s brother Johnny, killed before his brother’s eyes in a dogfight in Normandy in WWI. It is an excellent novel.
Fun fact: Bayard Sartoris may be the 20th c’s first member of the suicide at 27 club.
January 19, 2015
I finished Faulkner’s “Flags in the Dust” this (warm January) morning, in a quiet house. This review will hopefully be narrowly focused, since it was personally meaningful to me, and I write these reviews believing, as I do, that proper reading will illume something of myself (to myself, or to my progeny in future generations). Perhaps a reason this book resonated is that it is haunted with the past and fearful of the future, yet rendered so beautifully. I will file this in Goodreads which may or may not exist in the future in any meaningful format for discovery (will this program have any future?). But I will print this and tuck it into the pages, perhaps never to be seen again or perhaps to be found and mused over.
My reading is amateur; I claim no research or serious thinking to make it anything other. My reading is purely for entertainment and the sensations of joy and pain through what is truthfully rendered. My opinion is unsullied by those of others, and I’ve avoided the opinions of others on this website. As before, I hope to receive Faulkner purely, as he may have imagined his reader, in this case 90 years after the fact. I note that he was 29 years when he wrote this book, and set it in a place like his home, with a main protagonist of 27 years of age – so he must have felt viscerally this male character (the young Bayard). Writing the first draft in 1926, this book was 8 years after the horrors of the first World War, at a time with Faulkner and the world could not even imagine the repeat performance of worldwide terror that was to follow as the second world war in that series. The age of Bill (William) at his writing of Flags was 25 years my junior, astonishing with its remarkable and seemingly miraculous skill and knowledge of ancient literature. I mourned quietly the loss of this knowledge in our current educational systems – of course we are doomed to repeat history again and again – and this book itself is about the seemingly inescapable fate of our birthright (and genetic makeup which Bill understood esoterically – certainly without any biochemistry!).
This is my 4th Faulkner, whom I’ve sampled randomly, and represents the first in the fictional town of Jackson. As such it represents bedrock from which I will read the rest of his works (The Sound and The Fury comes next, I believe) in sequence. It would seem criminal not to follow his development of genius in the proper order. It must be intentional that Bill steadfastly avoids giving the reader the simple plot lines, he is a scene setter and reveals the relationship between characters (in bloodline and in time) in drabs, at first irritating to the reader but ultimately the purpose emerges as the intentionality allows the readers’ brain to absorb what is necessary in its purpose (trust the master, like a great chef, who understands my palette in ways I’ve yet to know) of putting the reader in a state of mind necessary for what is to come. I did have to make a cheat sheet, as the family members’ have the same name (the Bayard and John Sartorius’s are aplenty). Perhaps the greatest character is the sharp-witted Aunt Jenny who’s seen it all, being the most senior and having married into the family long ago, and who bemoans the infuriating Sartorius males who seem hell-bent on destruction in wars and mischief from birth. This is a book about war, those flags quiet now in the dust, from the (vain)glory of the civil war (the original John Sartorius fought gallantly with distinction along with the confederate Jeb Stuart – a swashbuckler himself). The young Bayard, jousting with Aunt Jenny and her nephew (his grandfaterh, the deaf, colorful, “old” Bayard) is a continuum – starting with his return from the first world war and ending with a foolish unheroic act. We call it post traumatic stress disorder now, and it is remarkable the Faulkner describe those symptoms with perfection so many years before it was given common definition. Make no mistake, this family is haunted by untimely death and tragedy – few male Sartorius’s remain and only one small child is left at the end.
But this is not a sad tale; it has long sojourns of trifling tea parties and languor in sweet gardens, sun-stroked yards and gentle afternoons in quiet rooms. It describes the earth, the sky, the land, the people and the animals with delicate care and authenticity. This is a great gift Faulkner has given us, a time and place of a people which cannot be captures (and certainly obscured) by photography and historical accounting. Bill’s is great literature that gives of itself, not seeking consequence in his time (I can imagine) other than to create the art necessary for life. This edition is the “original” since it is close to what he originally submitted for publication that was rejected (keep this in mind, ye authors, the futility of human understanding so flawed) and later came out as Sartorius (an edition he did not actively supervise, according to my edition) – so I will not read that one. There are flaws in Flags In the Dust, that an editor would catch, and likely weren’t missed in his future books – overuse of terms (Bill kind of ruined the word “sibilant” and its derivations for me for some time). It reminds me that every version is unique, and even the greatest literature, is but that construct as it existed at that time. Like those authors’ who lost final manuscripts and promptly re-created them (sometime the best of our literature) – young Bill was just channeling here, in the zone, doing his thing in 1926…. When Henry Ford’s automobiles were just emerging and ravaging the countryside, alongside horse-drawn carriages and the other beasts of burden used for transportation. Modernization was coming, frightfully, in the roaring 20’s, even in the quiet idyllic countryside of the old south.
It is ironic that today we celebrate Martin Luther King and I finished this book which has so much to say (intentional and otherwise) about race relations in 1920’s deep south America and the author himself. A main character, Simon, is the old “servant” – descended from the slave family owned by the wealthy Sartorius (the most senior built the railroad that comes through town). The unique language offered by Simon and his family (son, daughter, grandson) that take care of the be-spoiled “white folks” is no doubt rendered accurately, and carefully, but the descriptions of their bodily shapes and smells suggest the racism of the time (Bill might be horrified to think himself unenlightened, but it is real and reminds me of our current unconscious bias about race and the silly “color-blind” statements we hear today). The “free” servants are paid workers, but their expectations and hope are so tamped down from the days of slavery that their station in Jim Crow America is only marginally grasped by Bill. One might say the novel is dated, in this regard, but the accurate depiction of life around the manor is what allows the reader to grasp this – so again Bill’s great care has created great literature that informs. Of course the “N” word is aplenty, which can be shocking, but that’s the way it was used in this time in this little corner of the world. And this is Bill’s world, and I suspect when I read more about this book I will realize it is one of his most autobiographical.
I’m going to wrap this up without editing myself (the tedium tells me I’d never be a writer) by describing the beauty of the final scene as the lovely old withered, dried up, 90+ year old Jenny is wandering the tombstones, revealing names and reveling in history. She is still angry yet awed by the Sartorius fate, and sharp-witted, even as her mind wanders and confused the newborn Sartorius with all the ghosts about the shadows and the encroaching pines and slatted sunlight. Absolutely stunning, she is, and reminds me of my beautiful grandmother somehow, with her spry and opinionated views, yet lovingly so, in every way…… a great book evokes such connections. Thank you Bill, RIP.
My reading is amateur; I claim no research or serious thinking to make it anything other. My reading is purely for entertainment and the sensations of joy and pain through what is truthfully rendered. My opinion is unsullied by those of others, and I’ve avoided the opinions of others on this website. As before, I hope to receive Faulkner purely, as he may have imagined his reader, in this case 90 years after the fact. I note that he was 29 years when he wrote this book, and set it in a place like his home, with a main protagonist of 27 years of age – so he must have felt viscerally this male character (the young Bayard). Writing the first draft in 1926, this book was 8 years after the horrors of the first World War, at a time with Faulkner and the world could not even imagine the repeat performance of worldwide terror that was to follow as the second world war in that series. The age of Bill (William) at his writing of Flags was 25 years my junior, astonishing with its remarkable and seemingly miraculous skill and knowledge of ancient literature. I mourned quietly the loss of this knowledge in our current educational systems – of course we are doomed to repeat history again and again – and this book itself is about the seemingly inescapable fate of our birthright (and genetic makeup which Bill understood esoterically – certainly without any biochemistry!).
This is my 4th Faulkner, whom I’ve sampled randomly, and represents the first in the fictional town of Jackson. As such it represents bedrock from which I will read the rest of his works (The Sound and The Fury comes next, I believe) in sequence. It would seem criminal not to follow his development of genius in the proper order. It must be intentional that Bill steadfastly avoids giving the reader the simple plot lines, he is a scene setter and reveals the relationship between characters (in bloodline and in time) in drabs, at first irritating to the reader but ultimately the purpose emerges as the intentionality allows the readers’ brain to absorb what is necessary in its purpose (trust the master, like a great chef, who understands my palette in ways I’ve yet to know) of putting the reader in a state of mind necessary for what is to come. I did have to make a cheat sheet, as the family members’ have the same name (the Bayard and John Sartorius’s are aplenty). Perhaps the greatest character is the sharp-witted Aunt Jenny who’s seen it all, being the most senior and having married into the family long ago, and who bemoans the infuriating Sartorius males who seem hell-bent on destruction in wars and mischief from birth. This is a book about war, those flags quiet now in the dust, from the (vain)glory of the civil war (the original John Sartorius fought gallantly with distinction along with the confederate Jeb Stuart – a swashbuckler himself). The young Bayard, jousting with Aunt Jenny and her nephew (his grandfaterh, the deaf, colorful, “old” Bayard) is a continuum – starting with his return from the first world war and ending with a foolish unheroic act. We call it post traumatic stress disorder now, and it is remarkable the Faulkner describe those symptoms with perfection so many years before it was given common definition. Make no mistake, this family is haunted by untimely death and tragedy – few male Sartorius’s remain and only one small child is left at the end.
But this is not a sad tale; it has long sojourns of trifling tea parties and languor in sweet gardens, sun-stroked yards and gentle afternoons in quiet rooms. It describes the earth, the sky, the land, the people and the animals with delicate care and authenticity. This is a great gift Faulkner has given us, a time and place of a people which cannot be captures (and certainly obscured) by photography and historical accounting. Bill’s is great literature that gives of itself, not seeking consequence in his time (I can imagine) other than to create the art necessary for life. This edition is the “original” since it is close to what he originally submitted for publication that was rejected (keep this in mind, ye authors, the futility of human understanding so flawed) and later came out as Sartorius (an edition he did not actively supervise, according to my edition) – so I will not read that one. There are flaws in Flags In the Dust, that an editor would catch, and likely weren’t missed in his future books – overuse of terms (Bill kind of ruined the word “sibilant” and its derivations for me for some time). It reminds me that every version is unique, and even the greatest literature, is but that construct as it existed at that time. Like those authors’ who lost final manuscripts and promptly re-created them (sometime the best of our literature) – young Bill was just channeling here, in the zone, doing his thing in 1926…. When Henry Ford’s automobiles were just emerging and ravaging the countryside, alongside horse-drawn carriages and the other beasts of burden used for transportation. Modernization was coming, frightfully, in the roaring 20’s, even in the quiet idyllic countryside of the old south.
It is ironic that today we celebrate Martin Luther King and I finished this book which has so much to say (intentional and otherwise) about race relations in 1920’s deep south America and the author himself. A main character, Simon, is the old “servant” – descended from the slave family owned by the wealthy Sartorius (the most senior built the railroad that comes through town). The unique language offered by Simon and his family (son, daughter, grandson) that take care of the be-spoiled “white folks” is no doubt rendered accurately, and carefully, but the descriptions of their bodily shapes and smells suggest the racism of the time (Bill might be horrified to think himself unenlightened, but it is real and reminds me of our current unconscious bias about race and the silly “color-blind” statements we hear today). The “free” servants are paid workers, but their expectations and hope are so tamped down from the days of slavery that their station in Jim Crow America is only marginally grasped by Bill. One might say the novel is dated, in this regard, but the accurate depiction of life around the manor is what allows the reader to grasp this – so again Bill’s great care has created great literature that informs. Of course the “N” word is aplenty, which can be shocking, but that’s the way it was used in this time in this little corner of the world. And this is Bill’s world, and I suspect when I read more about this book I will realize it is one of his most autobiographical.
I’m going to wrap this up without editing myself (the tedium tells me I’d never be a writer) by describing the beauty of the final scene as the lovely old withered, dried up, 90+ year old Jenny is wandering the tombstones, revealing names and reveling in history. She is still angry yet awed by the Sartorius fate, and sharp-witted, even as her mind wanders and confused the newborn Sartorius with all the ghosts about the shadows and the encroaching pines and slatted sunlight. Absolutely stunning, she is, and reminds me of my beautiful grandmother somehow, with her spry and opinionated views, yet lovingly so, in every way…… a great book evokes such connections. Thank you Bill, RIP.
December 8, 2024
”… e sulla sua fronte c’era il destino, e la stanchezza.
Terzo romanzo del Premio Nobel (1949) William Faulkner con una storia editoriale parecchio travagliata.
Rifiutato da ben undici case editrici, venne pubblicato nel 1929 in una versione alquanto mutilata e con il titolo di “Sartoris”, ossia il cognome della famiglia protagonista.
Questo romanzo sforbiciato circolò fino al 1973, anno in cui la figlia dello scrittore mise mano al testo servendosi dei dattiloscritti ritrovati.
Questa versione (oggi rinfrescata dalla traduzione di Carlo Prosperi per La Nave di Teseo) si riappropria non solo della struttura voluta dall’autore stesso ma anche del titolo.
I primi capitoli risultano ostici ma pian piano si entra nella storia anche se non ci si deve aspettare una linea temporale uniforme e chi ha già letto Faulkner sa un di cosa parlo.
La difficoltà sta nell’entrare di colpo in una storia senza appigli e con l’aggiunta di due nomi maschili che si ripetono:
un John che poi scopriamo essere il senior, capostipite della ricchissima famiglia Sartoris,e morto da tempo; un altro John (Junior) morto recentemente in Europa (siamo nel 1918 quando inizia il romanzo ed è appena finita la Prima Guerra Mondiale);
poi c’è Baynard Senior e Bayard Junior.
Tra loro l’energica zia Jenny voce ironica e dissacrante in un racconto altrimenti cupo.
L’ambientazione è, invece, il cardine su cui ruotano le vite dei protagonisti.
Siamo nella contea di Yoknapatawpha, Mississippi.
Un sud intriso di razzismo con una presenza costante di afroamericani impiegati come domestici fedeli che Faulkner fa parlare nel loro inglese maccheronico : "quella lenta voce senza consonanti".
Alla famiglia Sartoris si aggiungono due personaggi noti a chi ha letto ad esempio “Santuario” : sono Narcissa e suo fratello Horace Benbow.
La storia si tiene salda sui binari paralleli quanto avversi:
da un lato le meravigliose descrizioni di una natura selvaggia e florida, dall’altro l’impetuoso e graduale dominio delle macchine.
Sarà proprio su un’automobile che sfreccia a grande velocità che l’inquieto Bayard Jr cercherà di sedare il malessere per la morte del fratello.
La tranquilla vita del sud rurale così confortante nel ciclico ripetersi delle stagioni e nella fermezza di tradizioni assodate si scontra, quindi, con la sfrenata e irrequieta smania che caratterizza i Sartoris soprattutto dell’ultima generazione.
Ecco così che quel titolo così eccentrico acquista il suo significato.
Le bandiere, ossia quei simboli identitari, non sventolano più ma giacciono a terra sviliti di ogni valore, soffocati dalla polvere.
Un destino infausto annunciato da subito: questo quello che attende la famiglia Sartoris, destinata in un modo ineluttabile ad essere dimenticata sotto la polvere..
★★★★½
da leggersi obbligatoriamente con accompagnamento musicale
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=it3sD...
"La musica proseguì nella penombra dolcemente; una penombra popolata dai fantasmi di affascinanti vecchie cose infauste. E se erano solo minimamente affascinanti, di certo doveva esserci di mezzo un Sartoris, e allora di sicuro erano anche infauste. Pedine. Ma il Giocatore e il gioco a cui Egli gioca... avrà pur dato un nome alle Sue pedine, ma forse è Sartoris il gioco stesso – un gioco superato e giocato con pedine plasmate fuori tempo massimo e secondo un obsoleto modello ormai morto, e del quale il Giocatore stesso si è un po’ stufato. Poiché c’è la morte nel suo stesso suono, e un’affascinante fatalità, come ali d’argento in picchiata nel tramonto, o un morente calando di corni lungo la strada per Roncisvalle.
Terzo romanzo del Premio Nobel (1949) William Faulkner con una storia editoriale parecchio travagliata.
Rifiutato da ben undici case editrici, venne pubblicato nel 1929 in una versione alquanto mutilata e con il titolo di “Sartoris”, ossia il cognome della famiglia protagonista.
Questo romanzo sforbiciato circolò fino al 1973, anno in cui la figlia dello scrittore mise mano al testo servendosi dei dattiloscritti ritrovati.
Questa versione (oggi rinfrescata dalla traduzione di Carlo Prosperi per La Nave di Teseo) si riappropria non solo della struttura voluta dall’autore stesso ma anche del titolo.
I primi capitoli risultano ostici ma pian piano si entra nella storia anche se non ci si deve aspettare una linea temporale uniforme e chi ha già letto Faulkner sa un di cosa parlo.
La difficoltà sta nell’entrare di colpo in una storia senza appigli e con l’aggiunta di due nomi maschili che si ripetono:
un John che poi scopriamo essere il senior, capostipite della ricchissima famiglia Sartoris,e morto da tempo; un altro John (Junior) morto recentemente in Europa (siamo nel 1918 quando inizia il romanzo ed è appena finita la Prima Guerra Mondiale);
poi c’è Baynard Senior e Bayard Junior.
Tra loro l’energica zia Jenny voce ironica e dissacrante in un racconto altrimenti cupo.
L’ambientazione è, invece, il cardine su cui ruotano le vite dei protagonisti.
Siamo nella contea di Yoknapatawpha, Mississippi.
Un sud intriso di razzismo con una presenza costante di afroamericani impiegati come domestici fedeli che Faulkner fa parlare nel loro inglese maccheronico : "quella lenta voce senza consonanti".
Alla famiglia Sartoris si aggiungono due personaggi noti a chi ha letto ad esempio “Santuario” : sono Narcissa e suo fratello Horace Benbow.
La storia si tiene salda sui binari paralleli quanto avversi:
da un lato le meravigliose descrizioni di una natura selvaggia e florida, dall’altro l’impetuoso e graduale dominio delle macchine.
Sarà proprio su un’automobile che sfreccia a grande velocità che l’inquieto Bayard Jr cercherà di sedare il malessere per la morte del fratello.
La tranquilla vita del sud rurale così confortante nel ciclico ripetersi delle stagioni e nella fermezza di tradizioni assodate si scontra, quindi, con la sfrenata e irrequieta smania che caratterizza i Sartoris soprattutto dell’ultima generazione.
Ecco così che quel titolo così eccentrico acquista il suo significato.
Le bandiere, ossia quei simboli identitari, non sventolano più ma giacciono a terra sviliti di ogni valore, soffocati dalla polvere.
Un destino infausto annunciato da subito: questo quello che attende la famiglia Sartoris, destinata in un modo ineluttabile ad essere dimenticata sotto la polvere..
★★★★½
da leggersi obbligatoriamente con accompagnamento musicale
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=it3sD...
"La musica proseguì nella penombra dolcemente; una penombra popolata dai fantasmi di affascinanti vecchie cose infauste. E se erano solo minimamente affascinanti, di certo doveva esserci di mezzo un Sartoris, e allora di sicuro erano anche infauste. Pedine. Ma il Giocatore e il gioco a cui Egli gioca... avrà pur dato un nome alle Sue pedine, ma forse è Sartoris il gioco stesso – un gioco superato e giocato con pedine plasmate fuori tempo massimo e secondo un obsoleto modello ormai morto, e del quale il Giocatore stesso si è un po’ stufato. Poiché c’è la morte nel suo stesso suono, e un’affascinante fatalità, come ali d’argento in picchiata nel tramonto, o un morente calando di corni lungo la strada per Roncisvalle.
December 28, 2014
I can't really do justice on a review of this book, it's been done better elsewhere. But I will say, even with the suggestions from others (including Faulkner himself) that this is a good one to start with, I really enjoyed reading of the inception of a lot of characters that I have become familiar with in other novels. Especially Snopes and family. I think I'm going to hunt down a family tree of Faulkner characters, print it out and enlarge it, and hang it on my wall.
This was an excellent book, marred only by my own failure to give it the attention and reading time it deserved because I was reading it during the Christmas season.
This was an excellent book, marred only by my own failure to give it the attention and reading time it deserved because I was reading it during the Christmas season.
October 15, 2024
Although a substantially edited version of this novel appeared as Sartoris in 1929, the full text was not published until 1973, more than a decade after Faulkner's death. It is the first of the many books, upon which his fame rests, to explore the mythical Yoknapatawpha County, Mississippi he created, called Yocona here. The decline of the Sartoris family, based on the author's own, is traced through the life of returning World War I fighter pilot Bayard, great-grandson of the patriarch, Colonel John Sartoris, Civil War veteran and symbol of the Old South. It also introduces the Benbow and Snopes families, which figure prominently in later novels. Although I wouldn't recommend this as a first book for a reader new to Faulkner, it would be illuminating to pair it with The Unvanquished, which focuses on the Sartoris family further back in history, after trying, say, As I Lay Dying.
December 30, 2021
Se mai avessi voluto scegliere un libro più bello per terminare questo 2021, non avrei mai immaginato che sarebbe stato questo …
Dalla sinossi :
Con Bandiere nella polvere , il premio Nobel W. Faulkner compie un romanzo corale ed epico che attraversa la storia del Novecento, : dà voce alla segregazione razziale, mostra le cicatrici della guerra, racconta la giovane America che sta nascendo sotto le ceneri del passato...
.....Un Omero dei campi di cotone dovrebbe cantare la saga del mulo e del suo ruolo nella vita del Sud….
.....Ma era novembre, tempo di giorni languidi e nebbiosi, quando la prima vampa d’autunno è passata e sono l’adusto orizzonte l’inverno comincia già a diffondere il suo alito
Novembre, quando la terra muore in pace come una matrona in scialle tra i suoi figli, senza dolore e non di malattia….
..... Presto , a dicembre, s’insediarono le piogge e l’anni ingrigì sotto la stagione della dissoluzione e della morte….
.....Bayard scese la scala incontro al sole rosso che cadeva come uno squillo di trombe sulla porta aperta della rimessa. ....
Non è Assalonne, Assalonne!, non è Luce d'agosto, non è Mentre morivo : è un Faulkner al suo massimo ( per me , sebbene per tutti sia L'urlo e il furore il suo capolavoro ), questo è lieve, scorrevole , poetico.
Nell’autunno del 1926 W.Faulkner inizia la stesura di Bandiere nella polvere….
e inizia l’avventura per poterlo pubblicare …..
Finalmente edito nella versione integrale da La nave di Teseo e in una stupenda traduzione di Carlo Prosperi ( super complimenti ) : bellissimo !
Dalla sinossi :
Con Bandiere nella polvere , il premio Nobel W. Faulkner compie un romanzo corale ed epico che attraversa la storia del Novecento, : dà voce alla segregazione razziale, mostra le cicatrici della guerra, racconta la giovane America che sta nascendo sotto le ceneri del passato...
.....Un Omero dei campi di cotone dovrebbe cantare la saga del mulo e del suo ruolo nella vita del Sud….
.....Ma era novembre, tempo di giorni languidi e nebbiosi, quando la prima vampa d’autunno è passata e sono l’adusto orizzonte l’inverno comincia già a diffondere il suo alito
Novembre, quando la terra muore in pace come una matrona in scialle tra i suoi figli, senza dolore e non di malattia….
..... Presto , a dicembre, s’insediarono le piogge e l’anni ingrigì sotto la stagione della dissoluzione e della morte….
.....Bayard scese la scala incontro al sole rosso che cadeva come uno squillo di trombe sulla porta aperta della rimessa. ....
Non è Assalonne, Assalonne!, non è Luce d'agosto, non è Mentre morivo : è un Faulkner al suo massimo ( per me , sebbene per tutti sia L'urlo e il furore il suo capolavoro ), questo è lieve, scorrevole , poetico.
Nell’autunno del 1926 W.Faulkner inizia la stesura di Bandiere nella polvere….
e inizia l’avventura per poterlo pubblicare …..
Finalmente edito nella versione integrale da La nave di Teseo e in una stupenda traduzione di Carlo Prosperi ( super complimenti ) : bellissimo !
April 13, 2025
Faulkner con questo romanzo corale ed epico apre le porte alla sua poetica dolente ed ipnotica: la musicalità del registro linguistico del Mississippi, il gusto del dettaglio, un virtuosismo lessicale in cui riverbera la pubblicazione completa della "Recherche".
January 23, 2020
I'm auditing a Faulkner class this semester to help me read and understand some of his catalog since I've always failed when I've tried on my own. Flags in the Dust, published in reduced form as Sartoris in 1929, lays the groundwork for the setting of several more novels. I say that allegedly because I haven't read them yet. This one is set immediately after World War I with characters dealing with the aftermath, and of course the impact on already tense race relations. Faulkner focuses on a handful of characters and the novel has the feeling of opening doors to observe the characters and checking back in on them to see what else has transpired. I like to think of this as lazy afternoon teatime with a few car rides in between. It's a bit of a mess but gets better as it goes. (Since I read all 400 pages in a day I think I need to reread the last quarter.)
June 24, 2022
Flags in the Dust
The reminiscence of the old dusty rags of the American Civil War by some of the old folks who happened to live both in the ante and post-bellum South is unrelenting. This conjures up one of the memorable and iconic quotes by Faulkner which was also used by President Obama during one of his speeches on race The past is never dead. It's not even past.—he paraphrased the original to The past isn’t dead and buried. In fact, it isn’t even past. Faulkner kinda paints a picture of how the history affected and haunted the Southerners post the Civil War and at times it’s not hard to miss this subtle point he’s making, so a close reading is always advised when it comes to Faulkner, duh.
Sartoris is a big and consequential name—a family name—in Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha County and this name appears in many of his other blockbusters and was emphasized considerably in Absalom, Absalom!—by the way an absolute masterpiece. Furthermore, Flags lays the groundwork for many of Faulkner’s memorable as well as irredeemable characters—mostly grotesque, some seem occasionally liberal here and there yet possessing a disposition to parochial attitudes nevertheless.
To know more about this myopic family was important to me as I only had glimpses of it here and there as mentioned earlier—it mostly showed up faithfully wherever detestable activities were carried out and not to mention accompanying various other like-minded malicious parties—and boy were they up to something. In a way, it’s a documentary of the downfall of this purblind family—which was already descending from all its glorious and brevetting past.
Another impressive thing about Flags in the Dust is the opportunity to learn about the Civil War, so it’s a tiny little nugget to history buffs. Additionally, it’s at times very hilarious as well.
Flags in the Dust was completed in 1927 and was rejected by 11 publishers, for better or for worse one publisher agreed to publish it on a condition that it should undergo heavy editing and omitting a good chunk of the book, which was redacted reluctantly by the author by removing 40,000 words from the original manuscript. So, it was then renamed Sartoris by its author and published in 1929. Faulkner's original manuscript of Flags in the Dust was published posthumously in 1973, and Sartoris was subsequently taken out of print.
Some would argue that this is the best place to start when it comes to Faulkner, and I could also be found in this exclusive little lobby, lol.
The reminiscence of the old dusty rags of the American Civil War by some of the old folks who happened to live both in the ante and post-bellum South is unrelenting. This conjures up one of the memorable and iconic quotes by Faulkner which was also used by President Obama during one of his speeches on race The past is never dead. It's not even past.—he paraphrased the original to The past isn’t dead and buried. In fact, it isn’t even past. Faulkner kinda paints a picture of how the history affected and haunted the Southerners post the Civil War and at times it’s not hard to miss this subtle point he’s making, so a close reading is always advised when it comes to Faulkner, duh.
Sartoris is a big and consequential name—a family name—in Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha County and this name appears in many of his other blockbusters and was emphasized considerably in Absalom, Absalom!—by the way an absolute masterpiece. Furthermore, Flags lays the groundwork for many of Faulkner’s memorable as well as irredeemable characters—mostly grotesque, some seem occasionally liberal here and there yet possessing a disposition to parochial attitudes nevertheless.
To know more about this myopic family was important to me as I only had glimpses of it here and there as mentioned earlier—it mostly showed up faithfully wherever detestable activities were carried out and not to mention accompanying various other like-minded malicious parties—and boy were they up to something. In a way, it’s a documentary of the downfall of this purblind family—which was already descending from all its glorious and brevetting past.
Another impressive thing about Flags in the Dust is the opportunity to learn about the Civil War, so it’s a tiny little nugget to history buffs. Additionally, it’s at times very hilarious as well.
Flags in the Dust was completed in 1927 and was rejected by 11 publishers, for better or for worse one publisher agreed to publish it on a condition that it should undergo heavy editing and omitting a good chunk of the book, which was redacted reluctantly by the author by removing 40,000 words from the original manuscript. So, it was then renamed Sartoris by its author and published in 1929. Faulkner's original manuscript of Flags in the Dust was published posthumously in 1973, and Sartoris was subsequently taken out of print.
Some would argue that this is the best place to start when it comes to Faulkner, and I could also be found in this exclusive little lobby, lol.
December 14, 2010
This novel has it all. Old men who fought in the Civil War. Young men shaken by World War I, particularly flyers who were a new breed of soldier. Old women ruminating on the nature of Southern masculinity and how it relates to the fallen South. How social class is articulated during changing race relations and the transition from agrarian to urban communities. The burden of the past, particularly in one’s family. There are so many passages seared into my mind, particularly Bayard’s recounting of John’s death to Rafe, who is also a twin. My favorite chapter is Bayard’s journey to the MacCallums’ cabin and his journey afterwards on Christmas day. Anything with Miss Jenny is a treat. I read “Sanctuary” before this, so this story gave me more insight into Horace and Narcissa’s action in that novel, but I recommend reading first “The Unvanquished”, then “Flags in the Dust” and then “Sanctuary” in order to keep the stories chronological. After finishing “Flags in the Dust” you may also want to read the short stories “All the Dead Soldiers” which talks about John Sartoris (young Bayard’s twin) during the war, and “There Was a Queen” which is told from the point of view of Elnora, Miss Jenny’s housekeeper and old Bayard’s secret half-sister), observing Narcissa and her behaviors in relation to the dirty letters from Snopes. Oh! And those dirty letters from Snopes to Narcissa are my favorite dirty letters of all time. I read them over and over and began saying “I’m a desprate man” whenever possible.
This is perhaps my favorite Faulkner novel I’ve read so far. Other reviewers have stated that this is merely a first novel of Yoknapatawpha County, but it contains to roots of so many others. I found it very easy to read for a Faulkner novel, and much more focused than its critics would have you believe. Its themes were obvious – in a good way! I did not need to resort to study guides to keep it all straight. But if you can find a Sartoris family tree online, that will help with all the Johns and Bayards (there’s three of each).
This is perhaps my favorite Faulkner novel I’ve read so far. Other reviewers have stated that this is merely a first novel of Yoknapatawpha County, but it contains to roots of so many others. I found it very easy to read for a Faulkner novel, and much more focused than its critics would have you believe. Its themes were obvious – in a good way! I did not need to resort to study guides to keep it all straight. But if you can find a Sartoris family tree online, that will help with all the Johns and Bayards (there’s three of each).
April 22, 2023
Eccolo il primo dei suoi tanti romanzi decadenti, il primo Faulkner che parla del crollo dell'aristocrazia americana del sud nel primo dopoguerra, la prima ambientazione nella contea del Yoknapatawpha e la prima delle sue tante famiglie dannate e maledette, i Sartoris.
Non raggiunge le vette di lirismo di altri suoi capolavori, è il primo, è stato tagliato di 40000 parole perchè troppo prolisso, aggiustato per vendere.
I flussi di coscienza mostruosi che lo contraddistingueranno in futuro qui sono ancora ai minimi termini, ma la scrittura è già magistrale, i suoi personaggi solidi, tangibili, concreti, escono dalle pagine.
Il pathos che impregna i suoi romanzi è già presente e Bayard jr è il prototipo dei Quentin Compson, Joe Christmas e Thomas Sutpen che verranno.
Faulkner non è un romanziere, è qualcosa di più.
Stava pensando al fratello morto; lo spirito dei loro violenti giorni complementari era posato ovunque nella stanza come una patina di polvere, e cancellava quell'altra presenza, gli arrestava il respiro, si avvicinò allora alla finestra e sollevò di schianto la ghigliottina e si sporse, ingoiando aria a pieni polmoni come un uomo che sia stato sommerso e non si capaciti ancora di aver di nuovo raggiunto la superficie.
"Secondo te un uomo sarebbe capace di stare giorno dopo giorno, mese dopo mese in una casa a miglia e miglia dal nulla e passare il tempo tra un bollettino di caduti e l'altro a strappare lenzuola, tende e tovaglie per farne fasciature e vedere esaurirsi pian piano le scorte di zucchero, carne e farina, e usare i nodi di pino per far luce perché non ci sono candele, né candelieri per accoglierle, se ce ne fossero, e nascondersi in qualche capanna di negri mentre un generale nordista ubriaco dà fuoco alla casa costruita dal tuo bis-bis-bis-nonno e dove siete nati tu e tutti i tuoi? Che non mi si parli delle sofferenze degli uomini in guerra."
lo scopo della saggezza è sognare abbastanza in grande da non smarrire il sogno nel suo perseguimento.
Il significato della pace; uno di quegli istanti nella vita di un uomo, una marea morta nella sua vicenda terrena, in cui, come in una premonizione di sciagura, il momento acquista una sorta di nitida fissità nella quale i suoi gesti e i suoi desideri si fanno audacemente avanti emergendo dall'ombra, ritmici gli uni con gli altri come due destrieri che tirino uno stesso cocchio lungo una liscia strada deserta, e durante il quale l'io in lui s'erge come un sereno albero spoglio sugli adusti e grotteschi disastri dei suoi giorni.
Dimentichi che mentire fa parte della lotta per la sopravvivenza," disse lui. "È così che il piccolo insignificante essere umano modifica la realtà affinché essa corrisponda al preconcetto che ha di sé quanto al suo posto nel mondo. Una rivincita sui sinistri dèi.
Stavo piangendo, rifletté. "Stavo piangendo," disse con un triste sussurro che assaporò la propria solitudine e il proprio dolore.
Narcissa guardò il suo tetro profilo stagliato contro il bagliore della lanterna, poi si strinse a lui ancora più forte. Ma Bayard non reagiva, e Narcissa lasciò scivolare la mano nella sua. Era fredda anche quella. Per l'ennesima volta, lui l'aveva abbandonata per inseguire le vette solitarie della propria angoscia.
"Sembrate intelligente," disse lei oltre la spalla. "E io aborro gli uomini intelligenti. Non sapete che non è il caso di sprecare l'intelligenza con le donne? Risparmiatevela per le amicizie."
"Non so niente dell'amore e non mi interessa saperne."
"Credi che non esista?" chiese lui.
"Io non l'ho mai trovato. E se possiamo ottenere l'uno dall'altra qualcosa che vale la pena di avere, a che serve parlare d'amore? A ogni modo ci vorrà una stirpe di persone migliori di noi per sopportarlo, sempre ammesso che esista.
"Forse, a pensarci bene, la forza d'animo non è che una misera imitazione di qualcosa che vale davvero. Per i tanti che continuano a scavare come talpe nel buio, o come gufi, per i quali una fiammella di candela è già eccesso. Non invece per coloro che portano con sé la pace come una fiammella di candela porta la luce. Io ho sempre soggiaciuto alle parole, ma adesso mi sembra di potere persino ridare coraggio alla mia vigliaccheria ingannandola un poco. Mi verrebbe da dire che come al solito non riuscirai a decifrare questa lettera, o che leggendola ti parrà senza senso. Ma avrai comunque adempiuto alla tua funzione, tu ancora inviolata sposa della quiete."
Non raggiunge le vette di lirismo di altri suoi capolavori, è il primo, è stato tagliato di 40000 parole perchè troppo prolisso, aggiustato per vendere.
I flussi di coscienza mostruosi che lo contraddistingueranno in futuro qui sono ancora ai minimi termini, ma la scrittura è già magistrale, i suoi personaggi solidi, tangibili, concreti, escono dalle pagine.
Il pathos che impregna i suoi romanzi è già presente e Bayard jr è il prototipo dei Quentin Compson, Joe Christmas e Thomas Sutpen che verranno.
Faulkner non è un romanziere, è qualcosa di più.
Stava pensando al fratello morto; lo spirito dei loro violenti giorni complementari era posato ovunque nella stanza come una patina di polvere, e cancellava quell'altra presenza, gli arrestava il respiro, si avvicinò allora alla finestra e sollevò di schianto la ghigliottina e si sporse, ingoiando aria a pieni polmoni come un uomo che sia stato sommerso e non si capaciti ancora di aver di nuovo raggiunto la superficie.
"Secondo te un uomo sarebbe capace di stare giorno dopo giorno, mese dopo mese in una casa a miglia e miglia dal nulla e passare il tempo tra un bollettino di caduti e l'altro a strappare lenzuola, tende e tovaglie per farne fasciature e vedere esaurirsi pian piano le scorte di zucchero, carne e farina, e usare i nodi di pino per far luce perché non ci sono candele, né candelieri per accoglierle, se ce ne fossero, e nascondersi in qualche capanna di negri mentre un generale nordista ubriaco dà fuoco alla casa costruita dal tuo bis-bis-bis-nonno e dove siete nati tu e tutti i tuoi? Che non mi si parli delle sofferenze degli uomini in guerra."
lo scopo della saggezza è sognare abbastanza in grande da non smarrire il sogno nel suo perseguimento.
Il significato della pace; uno di quegli istanti nella vita di un uomo, una marea morta nella sua vicenda terrena, in cui, come in una premonizione di sciagura, il momento acquista una sorta di nitida fissità nella quale i suoi gesti e i suoi desideri si fanno audacemente avanti emergendo dall'ombra, ritmici gli uni con gli altri come due destrieri che tirino uno stesso cocchio lungo una liscia strada deserta, e durante il quale l'io in lui s'erge come un sereno albero spoglio sugli adusti e grotteschi disastri dei suoi giorni.
Dimentichi che mentire fa parte della lotta per la sopravvivenza," disse lui. "È così che il piccolo insignificante essere umano modifica la realtà affinché essa corrisponda al preconcetto che ha di sé quanto al suo posto nel mondo. Una rivincita sui sinistri dèi.
Stavo piangendo, rifletté. "Stavo piangendo," disse con un triste sussurro che assaporò la propria solitudine e il proprio dolore.
Narcissa guardò il suo tetro profilo stagliato contro il bagliore della lanterna, poi si strinse a lui ancora più forte. Ma Bayard non reagiva, e Narcissa lasciò scivolare la mano nella sua. Era fredda anche quella. Per l'ennesima volta, lui l'aveva abbandonata per inseguire le vette solitarie della propria angoscia.
"Sembrate intelligente," disse lei oltre la spalla. "E io aborro gli uomini intelligenti. Non sapete che non è il caso di sprecare l'intelligenza con le donne? Risparmiatevela per le amicizie."
"Non so niente dell'amore e non mi interessa saperne."
"Credi che non esista?" chiese lui.
"Io non l'ho mai trovato. E se possiamo ottenere l'uno dall'altra qualcosa che vale la pena di avere, a che serve parlare d'amore? A ogni modo ci vorrà una stirpe di persone migliori di noi per sopportarlo, sempre ammesso che esista.
"Forse, a pensarci bene, la forza d'animo non è che una misera imitazione di qualcosa che vale davvero. Per i tanti che continuano a scavare come talpe nel buio, o come gufi, per i quali una fiammella di candela è già eccesso. Non invece per coloro che portano con sé la pace come una fiammella di candela porta la luce. Io ho sempre soggiaciuto alle parole, ma adesso mi sembra di potere persino ridare coraggio alla mia vigliaccheria ingannandola un poco. Mi verrebbe da dire che come al solito non riuscirai a decifrare questa lettera, o che leggendola ti parrà senza senso. Ma avrai comunque adempiuto alla tua funzione, tu ancora inviolata sposa della quiete."
April 8, 2012
The last seven days were spent in a haze while, on one hand, I was sitting in Los Angeles; on the other, I was transported to a brand new world created out of whole cloth by a writer who receives no end of lip service, but who is no read nowhere near as much as he deserves to be. I think back to how William Faulkner's Flags in the Dust was viewed by a score of publishers as too diffuse to be interesting to the American reading public. One publisher, Harrison Smith of Harcourt, Brace, liked it. In order to get the book published, for a fee of fifty dollars, he hacked it to pieces, lopping off a fourth of the story and renaming the book Sartoris, after the family who were the main focus of the novel.
Years ago, I tried reading Sartoris, but lost interest, abandoning the book half way through. This time, I read the original book written by Faulkner -- and saved by him for many years in hopes of issuing it as he planned it. It finally was released in 1973, years after its author was dead and buried.
To be brief, I loved Flags in the Dust. So early in his career, around the age of thirty, the whole of his mythical Yoknapatawpha County sprang into existence, with many of its characters who were to be developed in future novels and stories. To be sure, there are some differences: The place is referred to as Yocana County here. The character of V. K. Ratliff, so familiar from The Hamlet, was called Surratt here. But the Snopes clan is present, as are the Sartorises and Benbows and the McCallums.
Central to the story are the promethean Sartorises and the widowed sister of old Bayard, Aunt Jenny Du Pre, who is the main spokesperson for the family as she fights her brother Bayard II and her nephew Bayard III as they find their own uneasy paths to the grave. When old Bayard opens a chest in the attic full of family souvenirs, Faulkner launches waxes lyrical:
In all, this is a great novel - one that is infrequently read, but central to its author's oeuvre.
Years ago, I tried reading Sartoris, but lost interest, abandoning the book half way through. This time, I read the original book written by Faulkner -- and saved by him for many years in hopes of issuing it as he planned it. It finally was released in 1973, years after its author was dead and buried.
To be brief, I loved Flags in the Dust. So early in his career, around the age of thirty, the whole of his mythical Yoknapatawpha County sprang into existence, with many of its characters who were to be developed in future novels and stories. To be sure, there are some differences: The place is referred to as Yocana County here. The character of V. K. Ratliff, so familiar from The Hamlet, was called Surratt here. But the Snopes clan is present, as are the Sartorises and Benbows and the McCallums.
Central to the story are the promethean Sartorises and the widowed sister of old Bayard, Aunt Jenny Du Pre, who is the main spokesperson for the family as she fights her brother Bayard II and her nephew Bayard III as they find their own uneasy paths to the grave. When old Bayard opens a chest in the attic full of family souvenirs, Faulkner launches waxes lyrical:
Thus each opening [of the chest] was in a way ceremonial, commemorating the violent finis to some phase of his family's history, and while he struggled with the stiff lock, it seemed to him that a legion of ghosts breathed quietly at his shoulder, and he pictured a double line of them with their arrogant identical faces waiting just beyond a portal and stretching away toward the invisible dais where Something sat waiting the latest arrival among them; thought of them chafing a little and a little bewildered, thought and desire being denied them, in a place where, immortal, there were no opportunities for vainglorious swashbuckling. Denied that Sartoris heaven in which they could spend eternity dying deaths of needless and magnificent violence while spectators doomed to immortality looked eternally on. The Valhalla which John Sartoris [died 1872, as described in Unvanquished], turning the wine glass in his big, well-shaped hand that night at the supper table, has seen in its chaste and fragile bubble.The story is set in the years immediately following World War One, which were years of change in the Mississippi towns and countryside -- a change symbolized by Bayard III's convertible racing along the dirt roads scaring the livestock and horse-drawn carriages. Traditional modes of life are slowly vanishing, particularly in the adulterous relationship that develops between Horace Benbow and Mrs. Belle Mitchell, while Horace's sister Narcissa, like a throwback to the relative calm of an earlier time, finds herself falling in love for the self-destructive young Bayard. At one point, Faulkner gives us a frightening glance into the young man's mind:
Nothing to be seen, and the long long span of a man's natural life. Three score and ten years, to drag a stubborn body about the world and cozen its insistent demands. Three score and ten, the Bible said. Seventy years. And he was only twenty-six. Not much more than a third through it. Hell.Probably part of what early publishers disliked about the novel was its broad-spectrum approach encompassing the Black population, rural good-old-boys like the McCallums, and the creepiness of Byron Snopes's pursuit of Narcissa Benbow. One chapter I particularly liked was young Bayard's stay at his old childhood friends, the McCallums, to go hunting possum. He is too ashamed to tell them that his father is dead, partly due to his reckless driving. He accepts a jug of moonshine to give to him without divulging the truth.
In all, this is a great novel - one that is infrequently read, but central to its author's oeuvre.
December 31, 2011
My father has always told me that Flags in the Dust (or Sartoris) is the best introduction to Faulkner, and this new reader agrees. (I have read The Unvanquished- another good intro he recommended- but it wasn't nearly this good). I grew up in Faulkner's hometown playing in my grandparent's yard across the street from his home. Faulkner is a local legend, and without having read anything by him, I grew up knowing the names and general personality traits of his recurring characters/ families of his fictional Yoknapatawpha County residents. As a giant figure of my childhood & local identity in addition to being a giant of literature, Faulkner intimidates the hell out of me, so I am just getting over it and picking him up. I'm so glad I did.
Flags in the Dust features characters from every walk of life in and around Jefferson, MS, WF's fictionalized version of my hometown, Oxford, MS. It's a long book that took a while for me to get through, but I really enjoyed it. Certain parts had me laughing audibly on the subway (usually something Miss Jenny said- she might be one of my new favorite characters ever).
Set during the end of WWI, the younger characters are returning from overseas and dealing with the changes wrought from the experience- a debonaire southern intellectual rationalizes away moral codes, a spitfire hellion pilot reels from the loss of his beloved younger brother, a young black house servant talks of equality and his right to not be a white family's servant after fighting side-by-side, and a poor white boy becomes a war hero and deals with his father's anger and disappointment in him for fighting with the Union side in this new war. The older men are still telling tall tales and romanticizing their roles & those of their fathers in the Civil War. They cling to the legends of their past without recognizing the changes that took place in 60 years to bring their sons & grandsons to this new conflict. Meanwhile, the women stay home and increase in internal strength as they watch their men come and go- make mistakes, learn lessons, and live for vain glory and violent ends.
This was Faulkner's 3rd novel, and he had a hell of a time getting it to print- it was eventually severely edited into one story & was published as Sartoris from 1929 until Flags in the Dust was recovered and published in 1973. It's difficult to find Sartoris now, and I don't know what the differences are, but I was surprised at how much this book reminded me of 100 Years of Solitude, published in 1967. I was always told that Garcia Marquez was greatly influenced by Faulkner, and I have to wonder if he'd read Sartoris at that point, and how similar it was to what I've just read. The multi-generational family dynamic of the Sartoris family and their interactions with the rest of the town seemed like a Southern version of the Buendia family in Macondo. There are vast differences in style & content, not to mention "magic realism" isn't present so much in Faulkner, at least not in comparison to 100 years. I would argue that there is an element of myth that is similar- a "mythical realism" so to speak. I think if you liked 100 Years of Solitude, you would definitely love this book. I highly recommend it, and I can't wait to read more Faulkner.
Snopes trilogy in 2012!
Flags in the Dust features characters from every walk of life in and around Jefferson, MS, WF's fictionalized version of my hometown, Oxford, MS. It's a long book that took a while for me to get through, but I really enjoyed it. Certain parts had me laughing audibly on the subway (usually something Miss Jenny said- she might be one of my new favorite characters ever).
Set during the end of WWI, the younger characters are returning from overseas and dealing with the changes wrought from the experience- a debonaire southern intellectual rationalizes away moral codes, a spitfire hellion pilot reels from the loss of his beloved younger brother, a young black house servant talks of equality and his right to not be a white family's servant after fighting side-by-side, and a poor white boy becomes a war hero and deals with his father's anger and disappointment in him for fighting with the Union side in this new war. The older men are still telling tall tales and romanticizing their roles & those of their fathers in the Civil War. They cling to the legends of their past without recognizing the changes that took place in 60 years to bring their sons & grandsons to this new conflict. Meanwhile, the women stay home and increase in internal strength as they watch their men come and go- make mistakes, learn lessons, and live for vain glory and violent ends.
This was Faulkner's 3rd novel, and he had a hell of a time getting it to print- it was eventually severely edited into one story & was published as Sartoris from 1929 until Flags in the Dust was recovered and published in 1973. It's difficult to find Sartoris now, and I don't know what the differences are, but I was surprised at how much this book reminded me of 100 Years of Solitude, published in 1967. I was always told that Garcia Marquez was greatly influenced by Faulkner, and I have to wonder if he'd read Sartoris at that point, and how similar it was to what I've just read. The multi-generational family dynamic of the Sartoris family and their interactions with the rest of the town seemed like a Southern version of the Buendia family in Macondo. There are vast differences in style & content, not to mention "magic realism" isn't present so much in Faulkner, at least not in comparison to 100 years. I would argue that there is an element of myth that is similar- a "mythical realism" so to speak. I think if you liked 100 Years of Solitude, you would definitely love this book. I highly recommend it, and I can't wait to read more Faulkner.
Snopes trilogy in 2012!
February 4, 2024
"Sartorisowie szydzili z Czasu, lecz Czas nie szukał pomsty, bo sięgał dalej niż oni".
Jest to dla mnie niezrozumiała sytuacja, w której wydana po raz pierwszy po polsku powieść absolutnego klasyka jest, jak się zdaje, zupełnie w Polsce nieczytana i pominięta przez krytykę.
Trzecia w dorobku Faulknera, opublikowana kilkanaście lat po jego śmierci powieść, jest może jeszcze nie tak wybitna jak późniesze książki, ale zdecydowanie bardzo dobra i dla fanów jego pisarstwa absolutny must read. Widać już w niej zaczątek wątków, do których będzie później wracać, i które będzie pogłębiać: mit założycielski amerykańskiego Południa w postaci przegranej wojny secesyjnej, panujący tam rasizm, okrucieństwo niewolnictwa, ideologię czystej krwi, starą arystokrację Południa. Znajdujemy tu typowy dla pisarza soczysty język i wspaniałe postaci na tle panoramy małomiasteczkowego Missisipi. Nad całą historią natomiast wisi los, fatalny los Sartorisów, który każde kolejne pokolenie mężczyzn skazuje na samozagładę. Dodatkowy smaczek polega na tym, że postaci z powieści zostały zarysowane na wzór członków rodziny Faulknerów (wtedy jeszcze Falknerów) o czym opowiada tłumacz, Maciej Płaza, w posłowiu.
Przepyszna powieść, ale jednak wyciszona, do spokojnej lektury.
"Może właśnie w tym sekret. Może człowiek nie tyle podświadomie dąży do czegoś, co wydaje mu się szczęściem i radością, ile jak giez ulega podłym, małostkowym impulsom, a potem daremnie usiłuje zaczarować je słowami. A natura być może patrzy tylko, jak próbuje się oderwać od starego, cuchnącego zgnilizną bagniska, z którego się wylągł, patrzy sobie spokojnie i drwi z tej iluzji oczyszczenia, którą człowiek sobie narzucił i nazwał duszą".
Jest to dla mnie niezrozumiała sytuacja, w której wydana po raz pierwszy po polsku powieść absolutnego klasyka jest, jak się zdaje, zupełnie w Polsce nieczytana i pominięta przez krytykę.
Trzecia w dorobku Faulknera, opublikowana kilkanaście lat po jego śmierci powieść, jest może jeszcze nie tak wybitna jak późniesze książki, ale zdecydowanie bardzo dobra i dla fanów jego pisarstwa absolutny must read. Widać już w niej zaczątek wątków, do których będzie później wracać, i które będzie pogłębiać: mit założycielski amerykańskiego Południa w postaci przegranej wojny secesyjnej, panujący tam rasizm, okrucieństwo niewolnictwa, ideologię czystej krwi, starą arystokrację Południa. Znajdujemy tu typowy dla pisarza soczysty język i wspaniałe postaci na tle panoramy małomiasteczkowego Missisipi. Nad całą historią natomiast wisi los, fatalny los Sartorisów, który każde kolejne pokolenie mężczyzn skazuje na samozagładę. Dodatkowy smaczek polega na tym, że postaci z powieści zostały zarysowane na wzór członków rodziny Faulknerów (wtedy jeszcze Falknerów) o czym opowiada tłumacz, Maciej Płaza, w posłowiu.
Przepyszna powieść, ale jednak wyciszona, do spokojnej lektury.
"Może właśnie w tym sekret. Może człowiek nie tyle podświadomie dąży do czegoś, co wydaje mu się szczęściem i radością, ile jak giez ulega podłym, małostkowym impulsom, a potem daremnie usiłuje zaczarować je słowami. A natura być może patrzy tylko, jak próbuje się oderwać od starego, cuchnącego zgnilizną bagniska, z którego się wylągł, patrzy sobie spokojnie i drwi z tej iluzji oczyszczenia, którą człowiek sobie narzucił i nazwał duszą".
September 1, 2017
This is the happily-restored full text of Faulky's "Sartoris". Never having read the truncated version, it's hard to imagine anyone wanting to cut a lick of this fine, quiet novel. "Flags" was written just prior to "Sound" but you can hardly scent the lyrical, half-poetry that would come to dominate Faulky's style. That's one of the striking things about his work: he combines a kind of gross, unapologetic, grotesque folkiness with sprawling imagery and beauty. "Flags" follows, weaving in and out and often without closure, a number of different people in fictional Mississippi but especially the troubled, savage ex-WWI pilot Bayard Sartoris and his self-destructive search for meaning. He and the woman he "woos", Narcissa Benbow are the centerpiece around which the other characters pirouette and crash.
I'm convinced that Faulky never wrote a bad book.
I'm convinced that Faulky never wrote a bad book.
July 28, 2021
„საცოდავი, – ჩაილაპარაკა ჩუმად. მერე უფრო მშვიდად დაამატა: – 58 წელს ბალტიმორში ვალსი ვეცეკვე, – და მისი ხმა ისეთი ამაყი და მშვიდი იყო, როგორც დროშები მტვერში“.
ჰოო, კიდევ ერთი მძიმე, ტრაგიკული წიგნი ამერიკის სამხრეთზე და ადამიანებზე, რომლებიც ცდილობენ ბედისწერასთან ბრძოლას, წინასწარვე, უკვე დაბადებიდან მათზე შემოლაგებული მძიმე ტვირთის ზიდვისას მუხლის არ მოდრეკას, მაგრამ არაფერი გამოდის, სიძულვილი, ბოროტება, სიამაყე, სიკვდილი ისე ღრმადაა ირგვლივ და მათში გამჯდარი, ჯონს დაარქმევენ თუ ბენბოუს, ექნება კი აზრი?!
დგას ფოლკნერი და კედელზე ნელა, დაყოვნებით, მაგრამ რიტმულად, მდორედ, მაგრამ ძლიერად ურტყამს და ურტყამს ჩაქუჩს ლურსმნებს და ასე იწერება ეს წიგნიც.
პ.ს. ეხლა გასაგებია რატომაა მარკესი ფოლკნერისგან დავალებული.
ჰოო, კიდევ ერთი მძიმე, ტრაგიკული წიგნი ამერიკის სამხრეთზე და ადამიანებზე, რომლებიც ცდილობენ ბედისწერასთან ბრძოლას, წინასწარვე, უკვე დაბადებიდან მათზე შემოლაგებული მძიმე ტვირთის ზიდვისას მუხლის არ მოდრეკას, მაგრამ არაფერი გამოდის, სიძულვილი, ბოროტება, სიამაყე, სიკვდილი ისე ღრმადაა ირგვლივ და მათში გამჯდარი, ჯონს დაარქმევენ თუ ბენბოუს, ექნება კი აზრი?!
დგას ფოლკნერი და კედელზე ნელა, დაყოვნებით, მაგრამ რიტმულად, მდორედ, მაგრამ ძლიერად ურტყამს და ურტყამს ჩაქუჩს ლურსმნებს და ასე იწერება ეს წიგნიც.
პ.ს. ეხლა გასაგებია რატომაა მარკესი ფოლკნერისგან დავალებული.
January 19, 2021
Faulkner è una goduria
June 13, 2023
Me ha parecido una buenanovela, si bien hay momentos en que la interesante trama cede a pasajes más aburridos y, a ratos, el estilo de Faulkner en inglés es innecesariamente enrevesado y afectado, como si quisiera el escritor quisiera impresionar al lector. Pero otras veces el estilo es soberbio y apunta maneras del gran escritor en el que muy pronto se convertiría.
Mi reseña para Instagram a continuación:
«Banderas en el polvo» (1927) de William Faulkner
Argumento: 5/5
Técnica narrativa: 3/5
Estilo: 3/5
Traducción 3/5
•
He empezado con esta novela mi aproximación a Faulkner por varias razones. Primero, por seguir la evolución del escritor. Segundo, por los paralelismos con otra obra fundacional de esa generación, como es “El ángel que nos mira” de Thomas Wolfe. Y tercero porque era lo que el propio Faulkner recomendaba.
EDICIONES
En septiembre de 1927 un Faulkner de 30 años lleno de entusiasmo envió a su editor su novela “Flags in the Dust”, la primera de las que se desarrollarían en el Yoknapatawpha County. Éste la rechazó, como lo hicieron otros once editores hasta que Harcourt & Co aceptó a condición de que alguien que no fuera Faulkner podara la novela en un 25%. Así se hizo y la versión “abreviada” se publicó con el título de “Sartoris” en 1929 (foto 6).
•
En 1973, Douglas Day rescató el mecanuscrito original de la novela y lo editó con el título que Faulkner quería: “Flags in the Dust” (fotos 1-5). En 1978, Seix Barral publicó la versión en español, traducida por José Luis López Muñoz (foto 7). En 2006 Noel Polk, re-editó la novela, no se sabe bien con qué criterio. Es la que se encuentra hoy en día en el mercado anglosajón (fotos 8-9).
RESEÑA
He dedicado dos semanas a leer en inglés y en español “Flags in the Dust” en la edición de 1973 y compararla con “Sartoris”. Me ha parecido una gran novela por la historia, por el universo que crea en torno a la saga de la familia Sartoris, por los personajes fascinantes que construye –como Miss Jenny–, por la técnica narrativa innovadora y en parte por el estilo.
•
Esto último sin embargo sólo lo podrá apreciar quien la lea en inglés por limitaciones de la traducción. Por falta de espacio, me remitó al artículo de Costa Picazo titulado “La traducción de Faulkner al castellano” (2001). A las razones allí expuestas añado que un rasgo estilístico de Faulkner es la transcripción cuasi fonética del habla de los negros. Como es imposible de traducir, ¡negros y blancos suenan igual de cultos en español!
Mi reseña para Instagram a continuación:
«Banderas en el polvo» (1927) de William Faulkner
Argumento: 5/5
Técnica narrativa: 3/5
Estilo: 3/5
Traducción 3/5
•
He empezado con esta novela mi aproximación a Faulkner por varias razones. Primero, por seguir la evolución del escritor. Segundo, por los paralelismos con otra obra fundacional de esa generación, como es “El ángel que nos mira” de Thomas Wolfe. Y tercero porque era lo que el propio Faulkner recomendaba.
EDICIONES
En septiembre de 1927 un Faulkner de 30 años lleno de entusiasmo envió a su editor su novela “Flags in the Dust”, la primera de las que se desarrollarían en el Yoknapatawpha County. Éste la rechazó, como lo hicieron otros once editores hasta que Harcourt & Co aceptó a condición de que alguien que no fuera Faulkner podara la novela en un 25%. Así se hizo y la versión “abreviada” se publicó con el título de “Sartoris” en 1929 (foto 6).
•
En 1973, Douglas Day rescató el mecanuscrito original de la novela y lo editó con el título que Faulkner quería: “Flags in the Dust” (fotos 1-5). En 1978, Seix Barral publicó la versión en español, traducida por José Luis López Muñoz (foto 7). En 2006 Noel Polk, re-editó la novela, no se sabe bien con qué criterio. Es la que se encuentra hoy en día en el mercado anglosajón (fotos 8-9).
RESEÑA
He dedicado dos semanas a leer en inglés y en español “Flags in the Dust” en la edición de 1973 y compararla con “Sartoris”. Me ha parecido una gran novela por la historia, por el universo que crea en torno a la saga de la familia Sartoris, por los personajes fascinantes que construye –como Miss Jenny–, por la técnica narrativa innovadora y en parte por el estilo.
•
Esto último sin embargo sólo lo podrá apreciar quien la lea en inglés por limitaciones de la traducción. Por falta de espacio, me remitó al artículo de Costa Picazo titulado “La traducción de Faulkner al castellano” (2001). A las razones allí expuestas añado que un rasgo estilístico de Faulkner es la transcripción cuasi fonética del habla de los negros. Como es imposible de traducir, ¡negros y blancos suenan igual de cultos en español!
May 17, 2013
I have started this review a number of times today an had to quit each time so I make no guarantee on the quality. Heads up.
I am slowly working my way through Faulkner who I fell in love with after reading As I Lay dying in my American Modern Lit class as an undergrad. After finishing the book, the professor asked what we thought of it. I listened calmly as everyone bashed it. Finally, I raised my hand and said I loved it. When he asked why I explained that it was darkly hilarious. That's just kind of how Faulkner is. I catch myself chuckling at little jokes that feel like they could be jokes between just him and me, though that may just be because of my experience with As I Lay Dying.
Flags in the Dust was released originally in a much shortened format called Sartoris. It follows the last of the Sartoris family which is pretty much legendary. They are in banking and railroads. They die brilliant, violent, gallant deaths. Their stories make up the folk tales of their town. Young Bayard returns home from WWI where his brother died. He comes home to his great Aunt Jenny and Old Bayard, his grandfather. It becomes quickly obvious that Bayard was not the favored child. His brother was warmer, more generous, funner. Young Bayard feels a keen sense of survivor's guilt and he lives his life recklessly. Typical of Faulkner, this novel is peopled with a wonderful cast of peculiar characters who are all the more real for it. My favorites were Miss Jenny and Samuel.
A lot of people suggested starting with this book if you want to read Faulkner but I can see how he has progressed since the first two. I am looking forward to moving on to the next, but aren't I always?
I am slowly working my way through Faulkner who I fell in love with after reading As I Lay dying in my American Modern Lit class as an undergrad. After finishing the book, the professor asked what we thought of it. I listened calmly as everyone bashed it. Finally, I raised my hand and said I loved it. When he asked why I explained that it was darkly hilarious. That's just kind of how Faulkner is. I catch myself chuckling at little jokes that feel like they could be jokes between just him and me, though that may just be because of my experience with As I Lay Dying.
Flags in the Dust was released originally in a much shortened format called Sartoris. It follows the last of the Sartoris family which is pretty much legendary. They are in banking and railroads. They die brilliant, violent, gallant deaths. Their stories make up the folk tales of their town. Young Bayard returns home from WWI where his brother died. He comes home to his great Aunt Jenny and Old Bayard, his grandfather. It becomes quickly obvious that Bayard was not the favored child. His brother was warmer, more generous, funner. Young Bayard feels a keen sense of survivor's guilt and he lives his life recklessly. Typical of Faulkner, this novel is peopled with a wonderful cast of peculiar characters who are all the more real for it. My favorites were Miss Jenny and Samuel.
A lot of people suggested starting with this book if you want to read Faulkner but I can see how he has progressed since the first two. I am looking forward to moving on to the next, but aren't I always?
February 27, 2024
This first to be set in the Yoknatapawpha world is good but not among his greatest. We meet Sartoris, Snopes, and Ratliff under another name. Long recountings of military actions and excessive descriptions of every tree, shrub and flower wherever the characters go, by foot, cart or automobile, wore me out.
What really succeeds is the depiction of different ways of adjusting, and sometimes not, to civilian life in the aftermath of the war. One character's PTSD leads to tragic recklessness, another withdraws into the past, a black slave who experienced freedom and some measure of equality in the military cannot fit back into serfdom.
Some of women are all of the spoiled antibellum Southern type, but restless, confused. Others are promiscuous and dissolute, a theme that runs through Faulkner's novels. The women's lives are upended by both the changes in the men and the advent of new technology that speeds up the pace of life.
Although this is the first Yoknapatawpha novel I do not recommend reading it first. At least 10 others are better. And as the timeframes overlap among them, it is not a question of reading them in sequence.
What really succeeds is the depiction of different ways of adjusting, and sometimes not, to civilian life in the aftermath of the war. One character's PTSD leads to tragic recklessness, another withdraws into the past, a black slave who experienced freedom and some measure of equality in the military cannot fit back into serfdom.
Some of women are all of the spoiled antibellum Southern type, but restless, confused. Others are promiscuous and dissolute, a theme that runs through Faulkner's novels. The women's lives are upended by both the changes in the men and the advent of new technology that speeds up the pace of life.
Although this is the first Yoknapatawpha novel I do not recommend reading it first. At least 10 others are better. And as the timeframes overlap among them, it is not a question of reading them in sequence.
February 11, 2017
"— 58 წელს ბალტიმორში ვალსი ვეცეკვე, - და მისი ხმა ისეთი ამაყი და მშვდი იყო, როგორც დროშები მტვერში."
ასე გავიცანი:
ფრაგმენტულად მოყოლილი ამბებით, წარსულის და აწმყოს ჰარმონიულ ერთობლიობას რომ ქმნის და მომავალს რომ ჩრდილად ეცემა.
არაპირდაპირ, ამბების და ერთმანეთის შექმნილი პერსონაჟებით. უცნაური სითბოთი სავსე რომ აკვირდები. და ალბათ, ისე გიყვარდება, თვითონ ავტორს რომ უყვარდა.
თუმცა ზოგჯერ განუცდელი, მაგრამ მაინც ახლობელი ემოციებით. თითქოს დიდიხნის მივიწყებულებს ვიღაცამ მტვერი ფრთხილად გადაწმინდაო.
ბედნიერება იყო, ბოლო რამდენიმე დღე.
ასე გავიცანი:
ფრაგმენტულად მოყოლილი ამბებით, წარსულის და აწმყოს ჰარმონიულ ერთობლიობას რომ ქმნის და მომავალს რომ ჩრდილად ეცემა.
არაპირდაპირ, ამბების და ერთმანეთის შექმნილი პერსონაჟებით. უცნაური სითბოთი სავსე რომ აკვირდები. და ალბათ, ისე გიყვარდება, თვითონ ავტორს რომ უყვარდა.
თუმცა ზოგჯერ განუცდელი, მაგრამ მაინც ახლობელი ემოციებით. თითქოს დიდიხნის მივიწყებულებს ვიღაცამ მტვერი ფრთხილად გადაწმინდაო.
ბედნიერება იყო, ბოლო რამდენიმე დღე.
June 4, 2024
Produkt złotych czasów, kiedy Faulkner pisał po prostu obyczajóweczki z Południa (Stanów). Uniwersum dopiero powstaje, styl jeszcze nie jest wyrobiony, a słowa nie ważą tak wiele i nie mają w sobie tak dużego ładunku uroczystej powagi (nie chciałem pisać, że specyficznego patosu, bo to jednak nie to).
Jak jest okazja, żeby zobaczyć, jak to się wszystko zaczęło, to polecam skorzystać.
Jak jest okazja, żeby zobaczyć, jak to się wszystko zaczęło, to polecam skorzystać.
March 15, 2024
Wit Szosztak powiedział w wywiadzie, że na bezludną wyspę zabrałby wszystkie dzieła Faulknera. Podzielam tą opinię, mógłbym już niczego innego nie czytać, tylko zaszyć się w Yoknapatawpha. Doskonała literatura.
September 2, 2024
3.5/5
czytając tę książkę myślałam, że jest trochę słaba, nierówna, że wiele nudnych fragmentów było niepotrzebnie rozwleczonych, a dużo tych dobrych wątków sprowadzonych na margines. a potem przypomniałam sobie, że trochę o to w tej książce chodziło. a przynajmniej w tym wydaniu. „Flagi pokrył kurz” to jedna z pierwszych powieści Faulknera i stanowi taką ciekawostkę dla fanów pisarza, którzy chcą się przekonać, jak pisał, zanim osiągnął poziom z „Wściekłości i wrzasku” czy „Światłości w sierpniu”. i rolę tej ciekawostki spełnia bardzo dobrze. podobał mi się wątek wielkiego rodu, który powoli ulega degradacji. niektórzy bohaterowie byli napisani świetnie, inni byli godni pożałowania. styl Faulknera jak zwykle niezastąpiony. kuleje tylko w tych nudniejszych fragmentach. a posłowie to w ogóle sama przyjemność. generalnie jestem z tej lektury zadowolona i mam wrażenie, że będę pamiętać tylko te dobre rzeczy. już teraz tak mam, bo wiem, że przedwczoraj narzekałam na tę książkę, że nudna. a teraz już prawie nie narzekam.
czytając tę książkę myślałam, że jest trochę słaba, nierówna, że wiele nudnych fragmentów było niepotrzebnie rozwleczonych, a dużo tych dobrych wątków sprowadzonych na margines. a potem przypomniałam sobie, że trochę o to w tej książce chodziło. a przynajmniej w tym wydaniu. „Flagi pokrył kurz” to jedna z pierwszych powieści Faulknera i stanowi taką ciekawostkę dla fanów pisarza, którzy chcą się przekonać, jak pisał, zanim osiągnął poziom z „Wściekłości i wrzasku” czy „Światłości w sierpniu”. i rolę tej ciekawostki spełnia bardzo dobrze. podobał mi się wątek wielkiego rodu, który powoli ulega degradacji. niektórzy bohaterowie byli napisani świetnie, inni byli godni pożałowania. styl Faulknera jak zwykle niezastąpiony. kuleje tylko w tych nudniejszych fragmentach. a posłowie to w ogóle sama przyjemność. generalnie jestem z tej lektury zadowolona i mam wrażenie, że będę pamiętać tylko te dobre rzeczy. już teraz tak mam, bo wiem, że przedwczoraj narzekałam na tę książkę, że nudna. a teraz już prawie nie narzekam.
June 24, 2023
This Faulkner novel has quite the story behind it. Ment to be Faulkner's third novel it was rejected punctuation everywhere in till heavily edited and was published as Sartoris in 1929. It was the first of his novels about Yoknapatawpha County. Reading about it, its clear Faulkner never got over it, he preserved the original manuscript and talked about it enough for his daughter to get it restored as best it could have done, 11 years after Faulkner's death. As for the novel, i really enjoyed it. Faulkner is one of my favorite writers of all time and it was interesting to see the origin of Yoknapatawpha County and so many of Faulkner's charters. It's a longer book, abit loose, but it's a great novel, an unsung gem.
January 15, 2022
I’m just off a semester of getting to work with a great class about Faulkner’s overall work. Part of the fun of that class is letting students discover for themselves the staggeringly interwoven story of Yoknapatawpha. Every character we meet has a story that extends to other works. No one is ever limited to the single story or novel they appear in.
If my students are generally surprised at that discovery across texts, I’m surprised – happily – by the discovery that so much of the architecture is here in Flags in the Dust, the first of the Yoknapatawpha novels. We get Sartorises and Benbows, of course, but we also get Snopes, Doc Peabody, MacCallums, Jody Varner, and many others who showed up and felt like old friends. As a work within the larger oevre, this is staggering for the way it serves as a prelude. There’s little sense of the stories that will come (I can’t find any Compsons, for instance), but the feel of it is all here.
As a story in itself, this seems – as I suspected – a bridge between the World War I stories and the Southern ones. Bayard Sartoris returns from the war mourning, in his sub-linguistic way, his twin brother’s death in an aerial dogfight. Like all Sartorises, he seems to have a death wish, and he drives his fancy car at breakneck speed. He seems to feel that half of him died with John, and he’s hell bent on finishing the job.
As a counterbalance, we have the bookish Horace Benbow, also back from the war and hoping to make a quiet, sensible place for himself. He’s drawn to the married Belle, but she sees him as a likelier prospect than the current husband whom she can’t quite control, so she trades. She lets Horace think he’s courting her, when she really pulls the strings.
Horace’s sister, Narcissa, more or less left alone, allows herself to be persuaded into marriage with Bayard, a man she well knows cannot be a husband if any sort.
The Narcissa/Bayard relationship is striking since it has a very different tone from the same story told differently in the short story “There Was a Queen.” There, Narcissa, like her name, feels like the opportunist. She’s married into the storied Sartoris family, yet she’s “common” in her willingness to tolerate (and even be flattered by) love letters written to her from Byron Snopes. In the story, she sleeps with a government agent to get the letters back. Here, she’s much more demure. She’s a woman who probably should never have married, someone who’d rather have lived her life alone. (In this, she’s a higher socio-economic prototype for Addie Bundren.) She feels passion for just a brief moment; after months of ministering to a post-accident, bed-ridden Bayard and feeling indifferent toward him, she has a spasm of passion when he shares with her the exhilaration of deadly speed. That’s enough to spark their engagement, and you get the impression there was much more beyond whatever time it took to procreate their child, Benbow Sartoris.
This isn’t the mature work of Sound and the Fury, which comes a couple years later, but it’s still an impressive work on its own terms. In classic Lost-Generation style, it’s a meditation on trying to find reason(s) to live after the climax of life seems over. Bayard falls short of the later Faulkner protagonists (as the many Sartoris short stories make clear) because he is so inarticulate. Later main characters will have the capacity to explore their own frustrations; whether it’s through the many monologues of As I Lay Dying or the stunning meditations of Quentin Compson, Faulkner lets us into these lost souls as fully as anyone who’s ever written.
This is well beyond apprentice work, though, and I suspect that I’d have been moved by it when it first came out even if I hadn’t known what was to follow. There’s a tragedy here, the decline of a family that never knew anything but charging ahead to certain death, and that echoes even with the masterpieces soon to follow.
If my students are generally surprised at that discovery across texts, I’m surprised – happily – by the discovery that so much of the architecture is here in Flags in the Dust, the first of the Yoknapatawpha novels. We get Sartorises and Benbows, of course, but we also get Snopes, Doc Peabody, MacCallums, Jody Varner, and many others who showed up and felt like old friends. As a work within the larger oevre, this is staggering for the way it serves as a prelude. There’s little sense of the stories that will come (I can’t find any Compsons, for instance), but the feel of it is all here.
As a story in itself, this seems – as I suspected – a bridge between the World War I stories and the Southern ones. Bayard Sartoris returns from the war mourning, in his sub-linguistic way, his twin brother’s death in an aerial dogfight. Like all Sartorises, he seems to have a death wish, and he drives his fancy car at breakneck speed. He seems to feel that half of him died with John, and he’s hell bent on finishing the job.
As a counterbalance, we have the bookish Horace Benbow, also back from the war and hoping to make a quiet, sensible place for himself. He’s drawn to the married Belle, but she sees him as a likelier prospect than the current husband whom she can’t quite control, so she trades. She lets Horace think he’s courting her, when she really pulls the strings.
Horace’s sister, Narcissa, more or less left alone, allows herself to be persuaded into marriage with Bayard, a man she well knows cannot be a husband if any sort.
The Narcissa/Bayard relationship is striking since it has a very different tone from the same story told differently in the short story “There Was a Queen.” There, Narcissa, like her name, feels like the opportunist. She’s married into the storied Sartoris family, yet she’s “common” in her willingness to tolerate (and even be flattered by) love letters written to her from Byron Snopes. In the story, she sleeps with a government agent to get the letters back. Here, she’s much more demure. She’s a woman who probably should never have married, someone who’d rather have lived her life alone. (In this, she’s a higher socio-economic prototype for Addie Bundren.) She feels passion for just a brief moment; after months of ministering to a post-accident, bed-ridden Bayard and feeling indifferent toward him, she has a spasm of passion when he shares with her the exhilaration of deadly speed. That’s enough to spark their engagement, and you get the impression there was much more beyond whatever time it took to procreate their child, Benbow Sartoris.
This isn’t the mature work of Sound and the Fury, which comes a couple years later, but it’s still an impressive work on its own terms. In classic Lost-Generation style, it’s a meditation on trying to find reason(s) to live after the climax of life seems over. Bayard falls short of the later Faulkner protagonists (as the many Sartoris short stories make clear) because he is so inarticulate. Later main characters will have the capacity to explore their own frustrations; whether it’s through the many monologues of As I Lay Dying or the stunning meditations of Quentin Compson, Faulkner lets us into these lost souls as fully as anyone who’s ever written.
This is well beyond apprentice work, though, and I suspect that I’d have been moved by it when it first came out even if I hadn’t known what was to follow. There’s a tragedy here, the decline of a family that never knew anything but charging ahead to certain death, and that echoes even with the masterpieces soon to follow.
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