Complete Works of William Faulkner

by William Faulkner

  But it was unbearable to believe that he had never had the power to stir women, that he had been always a firearm unloaded and unaware of it. No, it’s something I can do, or say, that I have not yet discovered. As he turned into the quiet street in which he lived he saw two people in a doorway, embracing, He hurried on.

  In his rooms at last he slowly removed his coat and hung it neatly in a closet without being aware that he had performed the rite at all, then from his bathroom he got a metal machine with a handpump attached, and he quartered the room methodically with an acrid spraying of pennyroyal. On each downstroke there was a faint comfortable resistance, though the plunger came back quite easily. Like breathing, back and forth and back and forth: a rhythm.

  Something I can do. Something I can say, he repeated to the rhythm of his arm. The liquid hissed pungently, dissolving into the atmosphere, permeating it. Something I can do. Something I can say. There must be. There must be. Surely a man would not be endowed with an impulse and yet be denied the ability to slake it. Something I can say.

  His arm moved swifter and swifter, spraying the liquid into the air in short, hissing jets. He ceased, and felt for his handkerchief before he recalled that it was in his coat. His fingers discovered something, though, and clasping his reeking machine he removed from his hip pocket a small round metal box and he held it in his hand, gazing at it. Agnes Mabel Becky he read, and he laughed a short, mirthless laugh. Then he moved slowly to his chest of drawers and hid the small box carefully away in its usual place and returned to the closet where his coat hung and got his handkerchief, and mopped his brow with it. But must I become an old man before I discover what it is? Old, old, an old man before I have lived at all...

  He went slowly to the bathroom and replaced the pump, and returned with a basin of warm water. He set the basin on the floor and went again to the mirror and examined himself. His hair was getting thin, there was no question about that (can’t even keep my hair, he thought bitterly) and his thirty-eight years showed in Ms face. He was not fleshily Inclined, yet the skin under his jaw was becoming loose, flabby. He sighed and completed his disrobing, putting his clothing neatly and automatically away as he removed it. On the table beside his chair was a box of flavored digestive lozenges and presently he sat with his feet in the warm water, chewing one of the tablets.

  The water mounted warmly through his thin body, soothing him, the pungent lozenge between his slow jaws gave him a temporary surcease. Let’s see, he mused to his rhythmic mastication, calmly reviewing the evening. Where did I go wrong to-night? My plan was good: Fairchild himself admitted that. Let me think.... His jaws ceased and his gaze brooded on a photograph of his late wife on the opposite wall. Why is it that they never act as you had calculated? You can allow for every contingency, and yet they will always do something else, something they themselves could not have imagined nor devised beforehand.

  .. I have been too gentle with them, I have allowed too much leeway for the intervention of their natural perversity and of sheer chance. That has been my mistake every time: giving them dinners and shows right away, allowing them to relegate me to the position of a suitor, of one waiting upon their pleasure. The trick, the only trick, is to bully them, to dominate them from the start — never employ wiles and never allow them the opportunity to employ wiles. The oldest technique in the world: a club. By God, that’s it.

  He dried his feet swiftly and thrust them into his bedroom slippers, and went to the telephone and gave a number. “That’s the trick, exactly,” he whispered exultantly, and then in his ear was a sleepy masculine voice.

  “Fairchild? So sorry to disturb you, but I have it at last.” A muffled inarticulate sound came over the wire, but he rushed on, unheeding. “I learned through a mistake to-night. The trouble is, I haven’t been bold enough with them: I have been afraid of frightening them away. Listen: I will bring her here, I will not take No; I will be cruel and hard, brutal, if necessary, until she begs for my love. What do you think of that?... Hello! Fairchild?..

  An interval filled with a remote buzzing. Then a female voice said:

  “You tell ’em, big boy; treat ’em rough.”

  THE END

  The Sound and the Fury

  First appearing in 1929, The Sound and the Fury is Faulkner’s fourth novel and was not immediately successful, though today it is regarded by many as the author’s masterpiece. Two years later, when Faulkner’s sixth novel, Sanctuary, a sensationalist story, was a publishing success, The Sound and the Fury also became commercially successful and Faulkner began to receive critical attention. The novel employs a number of narrative styles, including stream of consciousness. It is set in Jefferson, Mississippi and concerns the Compson family, former Southern aristocrats that are struggling to deal with the dissolution of their family and its reputation. Over the course of the thirty years spanning the novel, the family falls into financial ruin, loses its religious faith and the respect of the town of Jefferson, and many of the characters die tragically.

  The novel is separated into four sections. The first, April 7, 1928, is written from the perspective of Benjamin “Benjy” Compson, an intellectually disabled 33-year-old man. The characteristics of his impairment are not clear, yet it is implied that he has a learning disability. Benjy’s section is characterised by a highly disjointed narrative style with frequent chronological leaps. The second section, June 2, 1910, focuses on Quentin Compson, Benjy’s older brother, and the events leading up to his suicide. This section is composed in the stream of consciousness style with chronological leaps.

  The third section is set a day before the first section, on April 6, 1928, and is from the point of view of Jason, Quentin’s cynical younger brother. The final section involves events a day after the first, on April 8, 1928 — this time employing a third person omniscient narrator. This section chiefly focuses on Dilsey, one of the Compsons’ black servants. Jason and “Miss” Quentin Compson (Caddy’s daughter) are also central in the section, as Faulkner presents glimpses of the thoughts and deeds of everyone in the family.

  When Faulkner began writing the novel, it was titled “Twilight” and narrated by a fourth Compson child, but as the story progressed into a larger work, he renamed it The Sound and the Fury. The title is taken from Macbeth’s famous soliloquy in Act V, scene 5 of Shakespeare’s tragedy, which discusses the nature of life, which the Scottish king likens to “a tale / Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, / Signifying nothing.” Benjy, whose view of the Compsons’ story opens the novel, would signify the “tale told by an idiot.” However, due to the flawed natures of the other characters, as revealed in all sections of the text, it could be argued they all demonstrate examples of ‘idiocy’. Faulkner said in his speech upon being awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature that people must write about things that come from the heart, “universal truths.” Otherwise, they signify nothing.

  The novel has enjoyed great critical success and has achieved a prominent place among the greatest of American novels. It played a vital role in Faulkner’s winning of the 1949 Nobel Prize in Literature and in 1998, the Modern Library ranked it as sixth on its list of the 100 best English-language novels of the twentieth century. Nevertheless, the novel’s unconventional narrative style can be confusing for new readers and presents a challenge unlike the majority of modern classics. Although the vocabulary is generally simplistic, the recurrent switches in time and setting, as well as the occasional lack of regard for sentence structure and grammar have proven it to be a difficult read — even for devoted admirers of Faulkner’s fiction. Still, The Sound and the Fury exacted a major influence on the course of modern literature, winning praise for the author’s ability to recreate the thought process of the human mind. Today, it is viewed as an essential development in the stream-of-consciousness literary technique, sharing its place with the achievements of Woolf and Joyce.

  The first edition

  CONTENTS

  APRIL SEVENTH, 1928

  JUNE SE
COND, 1910

  APRIL SIXTH, 1928

  APRIL EIGHTH, 1928

  The first edition's title page

  The 1959 film adaptation

  APRIL SEVENTH, 1928

  THROUGH THE FENCE, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting. They were coming toward where the flag was and I went along the fence. Luster was hunting in the grass by the flower tree. They took the flag out, and they were hitting. Then they put the flag back and they went to the table, and he hit and the other hit. Then they went on, and I went along the fence. Luster came away from the flower tree and we went along the fence and they stopped and we stopped and I looked through the fence while Luster was hunting in the grass.

  “Here, caddie.” He hit. They went away across the pasture. I held to the fence and watched them going away.

  “Listen at you, now.” Luster said. “Aint you something, thirty-three years old, going on that way. After I done went all the way to town to buy you that cake. Hush up that moaning. Aint you going to help me find that quarter so I can go to the show tonight.”

  They were hitting little, across the pasture. I went back along the fence to where the flag was. It flapped on the bright grass and the trees.

  “Come on.” Luster said. “We done looked there. They aint no more coming right now. Lets go down to the branch and find that quarter before them niggers finds it.”

  It was red, flapping on the pasture. Then there was a bird slanting and tilting on it. Luster threw. The flag flapped on the bright grass and the trees. I held to the fence.

  “Shut up that moaning,” Luster said. “I cant make them come if they aint coming, can I. If you dont hush up, mammy aint going to have no birthday for you. If you dont hush, you know what I going to do. I going to eat that cake all up. Eat them candles, too. Eat all them thirty-three candles. Come on, let’s go down to the branch. I got to find my quarter. Maybe we can find one of they balls. Here. Here they is. Way over yonder. See.” He came to the fence and pointed his arm. “See them. They aint coming back here no more. Come on.”

  We went along the fence and came to the garden fence, where our shadows were. My shadow was higher than Luster’s on the fence. We came to the broken place and went through it.

  “Wait a minute.” Luster said. “You snagged on that nail again. Cant you never crawl through here without snagging on that nail.”

  Caddy uncaught me and we crawled through. Uncle Maury said to not let anybody see us, so we better stoop over, Caddy said. Stoop over, Benjy. Like this, see. We stooped over and crossed the garden, where the flowers rasped and rattled against us. The ground was hard. We climbed the fence, where the pigs were grunting and snuffing. I expect they’re sorry because one of them got killed today, Caddy said. The ground was hard, churned and knotted.

  Keep your hands in your pockets, Caddy said. Or they’ll get froze. You don’t want your hands froze on Christmas, do you.

  “It’s too cold out there.” Versh said. “You dont want to go out doors.”

  “What is it now.” Mother said.

  “He want to go out doors.” Versh said.

  “Let him go.” Uncle Maury said.

  “It’s too cold.” Mother said. “He’d better stay in. Benjamin. Stop that, now.”

  “It wont hurt him.” Uncle Maury said.

  “You, Benjamin.” Mother said. “If you dont be good, you’ll have to go to the kitchen.”

  “Mammy say keep him out the kitchen today.” Versh said. “She say she got all that cooking to get done.”

  “Let him go, Caroline.” Uncle Maury said. “You’ll worry yourself sick over him.”

  “I know it.” Mother said. “It’s a judgment on me. I sometimes wonder”

  “I know, I know.” Uncle Maury said. “You must keep your strength up. I’ll make you a toddy.”

  “It just upsets me that much more.” Mother said. “Dont you know it does.”

  “You’ll feel better.” Uncle Maury said. “Wrap him up good, boy, and take him out for a while.”

  Uncle Maury went away. Versh went away.

  “Please hush.” Mother said. “We’re trying to get you out as fast as we can. I dont want you to get sick.”

  Versh put my overshoes and overcoat on and we took my cap and went out. Uncle Maury was putting the bottle away in the sideboard in the dining-room.

  “Keep him out about half an hour, boy.” Uncle Maury said. “Keep him in the yard, now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Versh said. “We dont never let him get off the place.”

  We went out doors. The sun was cold and bright.

  “Where you heading for.” Versh said. “You dont think you going to town, does you.” We went through the rattling leaves. The gate was cold. “You better keep them hands in your pockets.” Versh said, “You get them froze onto that gate, then what you do. Whyn’t you wait for them in the house.” He put my hands into my pockets. I could hear him rattling in the leaves. I could smell the cold. The gate was cold.

  “Here some hickeynuts. Whooey. Git up that tree. Look here at this squirl, Benjy.”

  I couldn’t feel the gate at all, but I could smell the bright cold.

  “You better put them hands back in your pockets.”

  Caddy was walking. Then she was running, her book-satchel swinging and jouncing behind her.

  “Hello, Benjy.” Caddy said. She opened the gate and came in and stooped down. Caddy smelled like leaves. “Did you come to meet me.” she said. “Did you come to meet Caddy. What did you let him get his hands so cold for, Versh.”

  “I told him to keep them in his pockets.” Versh said. “Holding onto that ahun gate.”

  “Did you come to meet Caddy.” she said, rubbing my hands. “What is it. What are you trying to tell Caddy.” Caddy smelled like trees and like when she says we were asleep.

  What are you moaning about, Luster said. You can watch them again when we get to the branch. Here. Here’s you a jimson weed. He gave me the flower. We went through the fence, into the lot.

  “What is it.” Caddy said. “What are you trying to tell Caddy. Did they send him out, Versh.”

  “Couldn’t keep him in.” Versh said. “He kept on until they let him go and he come right straight down here, looking through the gate.”

  “What is it.” Caddy said. “Did you think it would be Christmas when I came home from school. Is that what you thought. Christmas is the day after tomorrow. Santy Claus, Benjy. Santy Claus. Come on, let’s run to the house and get warm.” She took my hand and we ran through the bright rustling leaves. We ran up the steps and out of the bright cold, into the dark cold. Uncle Maury was putting the bottle back in the sideboard. He called Caddy. Caddy said,

  “Take him in to the fire, Versh. Go with Versh.” she said. “I’ll come in a minute.”

  We went to the fire. Mother said,

  “Is he cold, Versh.”

  “Nome.” Versh said.

  “Take his overcoat and overshoes off.” Mother said. “How many times do I have to tell you not to bring him into the house with his overshoes on.”

  “Yessum.” Versh said. “Hold still, now.” He took my overshoes off and unbuttoned my coat. Caddy said,

  “Wait, Versh. Cant he go out again, Mother. I want him to go with me.”

  “You’d better leave him here.” Uncle Maury said. “He’s been out enough today.”

  “I think you’d both better stay in.” Mother said. “It’s getting colder, Dilsey says.”

  “Oh, Mother.” Caddy said.

  “Nonsense.” Uncle Maury said. “She’s been in school all day. She needs the fresh air. Run along, Candace.”

  “Let him go, Mother.” Caddy said. “Please. You know he’ll cry.”

  “Then why did you mention it before him.” Mother said. “Why did you come in here. To give him some excuse to worry me again. You’ve been out enough today. I think you’d better sit down here and play with him.”

  “Let them go, Caroline.” Uncle Maury said.
“A little cold wont hurt them. Remember, you’ve got to keep your strength up.”

  “I know.” Mother said. “Nobody knows how I dread Christmas. Nobody knows. I am not one of those women who can stand things. I wish for Jason’s and the children’s sakes I was stronger.”

  “You must do the best you can and not let them worry you.” Uncle Maury said. “Run along, you two. But dont stay out long, now. Your mother will worry.”

  “Yes, sir.” Caddy said. “Come on, Benjy. We’re going out doors again.” She buttoned my coat and we went toward the door.

  “Are you going to take that baby out without his overshoes.” Mother said. “Do you want to make him sick, with the house full of company.”

  “I forgot.” Caddy said. “I thought he had them on.”

  We went back. “You must think.” Mother said. Hold still now Versh said. He put my overshoes on. “Someday I’ll be gone, and you’ll have to think for him.” Now stomp Versh said. “Come here and kiss Mother, Benjamin.”

  Caddy took me to Mother’s chair and Mother took my face in her hands and then she held me against her.

  “My poor baby.” she said. She let me go. “You and Versh take good care of him, honey.”