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cryo_guy 's review for:
As I Lay Dying
by William Faulkner
So this is the second Faulkner book I've read now, after The Sound and the Fury. I really liked reading this although I will admit I found myself in a similar position (at least in the first half) as I was when I read The Sound and The Fury of being confused about the plot. However, I think this time I was better able to understand Faulkner's subtlety. As always, Faulkner has remarkable writing skills from the characterization of each person to his brilliant metaphors to the construction of a narrative that weaves through time as a jarring series of perspectives.
I enjoyed all that and the Southern setting. I read this book out of a desire to read more Southern Literature books and I hope I'll continue.
To be more specific, I don't want to go over every theme, but I'll just put one of my favorite quotes which was Addie's thoughts on language (and on motherhood, life, and love):
"So I took Anse. And when I knew that I had Cash, I knew that living was terrible and that this was the answer to it. That was when I learned that words are no good; that words dont ever fit even what they are trying to say at. When he was born I knew that motherhood was invented by someone who had to have a word for it because the ones that had the children didn’t care whether there was a word for it or not. I knew that fear was invented by someone that had never had the fear; pride, who never had the pride. I knew that it had been, not that they had dirty noses, but that we had had to use one another by words like spiders dangling by their mouths from a beam, swinging and twisting and never touching, and that only through the blows of the switch could my blood and their blood flow as one stream. I knew that it had been, not that my aloneness had to be violated over and over each day, but that it had never been violated until Cash came. Not even by Anse in the nights.
He had a word, too. Love, he called it. But I had been used to words for a long time. I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came, you wouldn’t need a word for that anymore than for pride or fear. Cash did not need to say it to me nor I to him, and I would say, Let Anse use it, if he wants to. So that it was Anse or love; love or Anse: it didn’t matter."
Out of the characters, I found myself leaning toward Darl because his descriptions were more intellectual and intriguing. I wasn't sure what to think of him at the end, was he really crazy when he burned down the farm or did he become crazy at the end because he could no longer hold the pressure of other peoples' perceptions of him. Either way Faulkner's characterization of Darl's ostracism from society because he could discover people's secrets was fascinating in itself. I thought Vardaman was portrayed in an interesting role too as the youngest. All the characters seemed to suffer a trauma as a result of Addie's death or have some other event or action (Dewey Dell's pregnancy) that exemplifies who they are, sort of like an archetype--but I think also not as simple as that, and I think Faulkner develops these things and assimilates them into a narrative that's engaging to read and reflect on.
So really I'd give this book more of a 4.5 or 4.7 but not quite a 5.
I was relating my experience with the book to a friend, and realized that I didn't mention something important in this review: the thing I find most admirable about Faulkner's writing is the charged metaphors which coincide with insightful and profound observations of other characters/life he puts in the thoughts of his characters. I can see how some might see it as affected but considering the author and time period, I think it's praiseworthy.
I enjoyed all that and the Southern setting. I read this book out of a desire to read more Southern Literature books and I hope I'll continue.
To be more specific, I don't want to go over every theme, but I'll just put one of my favorite quotes which was Addie's thoughts on language (and on motherhood, life, and love):
"So I took Anse. And when I knew that I had Cash, I knew that living was terrible and that this was the answer to it. That was when I learned that words are no good; that words dont ever fit even what they are trying to say at. When he was born I knew that motherhood was invented by someone who had to have a word for it because the ones that had the children didn’t care whether there was a word for it or not. I knew that fear was invented by someone that had never had the fear; pride, who never had the pride. I knew that it had been, not that they had dirty noses, but that we had had to use one another by words like spiders dangling by their mouths from a beam, swinging and twisting and never touching, and that only through the blows of the switch could my blood and their blood flow as one stream. I knew that it had been, not that my aloneness had to be violated over and over each day, but that it had never been violated until Cash came. Not even by Anse in the nights.
He had a word, too. Love, he called it. But I had been used to words for a long time. I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came, you wouldn’t need a word for that anymore than for pride or fear. Cash did not need to say it to me nor I to him, and I would say, Let Anse use it, if he wants to. So that it was Anse or love; love or Anse: it didn’t matter."
Out of the characters, I found myself leaning toward Darl because his descriptions were more intellectual and intriguing. I wasn't sure what to think of him at the end, was he really crazy when he burned down the farm or did he become crazy at the end because he could no longer hold the pressure of other peoples' perceptions of him. Either way Faulkner's characterization of Darl's ostracism from society because he could discover people's secrets was fascinating in itself. I thought Vardaman was portrayed in an interesting role too as the youngest. All the characters seemed to suffer a trauma as a result of Addie's death or have some other event or action (Dewey Dell's pregnancy) that exemplifies who they are, sort of like an archetype--but I think also not as simple as that, and I think Faulkner develops these things and assimilates them into a narrative that's engaging to read and reflect on.
So really I'd give this book more of a 4.5 or 4.7 but not quite a 5.
I was relating my experience with the book to a friend, and realized that I didn't mention something important in this review: the thing I find most admirable about Faulkner's writing is the charged metaphors which coincide with insightful and profound observations of other characters/life he puts in the thoughts of his characters. I can see how some might see it as affected but considering the author and time period, I think it's praiseworthy.