We meet again, Mr. Faulkner

So I must admit that, even as an English major, I have only read two Faulkner novels: Intruder in the Dust and The Sound and the Fury.  While I can respect him as an excellent spinner of tales, his long-winded sentences left me breathless and (more often than not) confused. Until I realized that Mr. Faulkner is much better understood and appreciated when read aloud. The Reivers was a perfect example.


Winner of the 1963 Pulitzer, The Reivers is a coming-of-age story about a young boy names Lucius Priest from Jefferson, Mississippi. Told as a memory to a grandchild, the book begins: Grandfather said:


What follows is a wonderfully sorted tale of misadventures, and it all begins with a death and a trip to New Orleans (or Mobile or somewhere). And as the old saying goes, when the cat's away....

Boon Hogganbeck, the hired hand, and Lucius take a road trip in Boss's new automobile up to Memphis, only to discover later that Ned, the coachman, had tagged along in the back. Of course, we wouldn't have much of a story, if these three guys didn't get into some sort of trouble. Boon exposes the young Lucius to a great deal in the four days they are in Memphis: racehorses, gambling, drinking, bawdy houses, and a pretentious deputy aiming for a fight. What fun!

What I found most interesting is Lucius revelation upon his return to Jefferson: It hasn't even changed! Because it should have. It should have been altered, even if only a little. I don't mean it should have changed of itself, but that I, bringing back to it what the last four days must have changed in me, should have altered it. What truth!

When I read this, I was immediately reminded of the short story by Stephen King, The Body, in which a group of young boys go off to find the dead body of Ray Brower. When they return, it is impossible to go back to the way things were, yet everything is still the same. Thomas Wolfe always confused me with his quote: You can't go home again. Perhaps, this is what he means.

While some of the language was dated for me, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. I think, so far, it is my favorite work of his. Some may disagree in that they prefer his other Yoknapatawpha County works, but I have nothing at this point to which to compare.

We will meet again, Mr. Faulkner and I. I will pull up a chair, pour a hot cup of coffee, and say, "Hello there old friend. Tell me a story." Then I will sit back and allow his southern drawl to lull me back to Mississippi, to dirt roads and red clay. Until then, Mr. Faulkner, take care.

Up next, A Thousand Acres by Jane Smiley (1992).

Until then... Happy reading.