A Parallel of Inferiority

An inflated sense of self-importance, a desperately skewed perception of reality, an intrinsic lack of the capacity to truly love another: though perhaps different in some aspects, the fundamental reason behind Mother and Jason’s intimacy lies not within what is independent of each, but rather, that which is held in common. Upon close evaluation of her character through both Quentin’s and especially Jason’s chapter, it is evident that Mother (along with all her selfishness and distorted opinions) is a woman within whose very core lays the fear of inferiority. This fear is interlaced within each of her “relationships” with both children and husband: Benji is her “punishment” from God, thus representing retribution for her “sins”, Quentin an undervalued stranger in her eyes, the embodiment of a true “Compson”, Caddy her catalyst to happiness and familial pride, and Jason, her husband, a man she feels is unrightfully superior to herself. However, Mother is not the only character whose primary concern seems to be combating (and often denying) this overwhelming sense of inferiority. As evidenced through his desperate need for public acceptance, unwavering desire for monetary accumulation, and twisted craving for every facet of control he could possibly obtain, Jason Compson serves as a mirror in which his mother’s potent reflection is exposed. The two share several negative attributes and it is this that ultimately binds them together tighter than they perhaps realize: their individual lack of inner competence is thus translated into a mutual bond that strengthens with every passing flicker of inferiority. What are Mother and Jason’s differences? Is there another explanation for their relationship?

Playing with Poison

"Faulkner's Use of Folklore in the Sound and the Fury" by Charles D. Peavy introduces a whole new insight into the famous piece of classic literature. By shifting focus from specific nuances of the plot line to a far more in depth observation about both the writing itself and various interests of the author, Peavy sheds a new light on the novel, one which otherwise would have likely gone unnoticed. Peavy points out the minute details almost hidden within The Sound and the Fury that deal with elements of classical folklore and support them with his own notions of Faulkner's apparent interest in the subject. He cites various instances in the author's biography which would support this notion, such as when Faulkner moved into the old Bailey home in Oxford Mississippi and soon after renamed it "Rowan Oak", based upon the folk belief that the Rowan tree is said to protect the inhabitants of a house from various forms of evil. Peavy goes on to say that Faulkner later attempted to grow a Rowan tree on his property, however, he was not successful.
With this brief account of the existence of folklore within Faulkner's personal thoughts and life, Peavy begins to build his argument. He states that the several details evident within The Sound and the Fury are not simply random additions to the text, but instead, placed there purposely to represent symbolic themes which are based off of folklore. The one that intrigued me most was the symbolic importance behind Benji's Jimson weed. Seemingly just a plant name selected randomly to describe the plant which Benji is given to play with time and time again, Peavy counteracts this notion and replaces it with a theory that makes Faulkner's selection of the weed name far most important. Peavy mentions the folk belief history behind the weed (often called a "stinkweed"): "The Jimson weed is quite common in the Arkansas-Louisiana-Mississippi area and has a multiplicity of meanings in the folklore in this region. A course, ill-scented annual plant, the Jimson weed is a member of the nightshade family, and is, of course, quite poisonous." Peavy then goes on to state that the plant is rumored to have poisoned and killed many children who came across its dangerous attributes, and thus, is it surprising that Benji would be allowed to play with such a hazard multiple times throughout the novel. Peavy explains that perhaps the reason Faulkner equipped Benji with so dangerous a poison is symbolic; once Caddy (who "smelled of tress") left his life, all that was left behind was the stench of the stinkweed.
I found this article interesting because it replaces the previously unnoticed with a far more in depth outlook upon Faulkner's writing, one that without Peavy, may have remained hidden within the pages of complex text forever.

• Faulkner's Use of Folklore in The Sound and the Fury
• Charles D. Peavy
• The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 79, No. 313 (Jul. - Sep., 1966), pp. 437-447
  (article consists of 11 pages)
• Published by: American Folklore Society
• Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/537508

Through the Looking Glass

In order to truly understand the intrinsic (and somewhat neurotic) qualities of Faulkner's Quentin Compson, one must pay special attention to the unmistakable parallelism between Quentin and Benjy. On the most superficial level, their similarities are obvious: both share many of the same memories, both may be classified as reliable narrators based on their rather objective recollections, and both share the same disjointed and chaotic thought process. However, on a deeper level, the brothers mirror each other in two essential ways. The first is a strong, somewhat atypical devotion to their sister, Caddy. Benjy expresses his devout "worship" of Caddy through his inherent reliance upon her throughout virtually every stage of his life. Even at the age of thirty three, Benjy's necessity for Caddy remains, as evidenced in his physical reaction when just her name is mentioned. Quentin's devotion to his sister is also supported continuously throughout the book: he serves as both her protector and confidante and his obsession to her is so prevalent that Quentin subconsciously relates almost every aspect of his existence to hers. Another parallel concerns the senses. It cannot be coincidental that throughout the first chapter of the book, Benjy repeatedly utilizes every sense he has control over to express his surroundings. From the scent of Caddy ("Caddy smelled like trees") to the feel of her "chest going", Benjy compensates for his muteness by relying heavily on his other, more sharpened senses. However, this habit of comprehension through the senses is not unique to Benjy's character; Quentin shares the trait several times throughout chapter two. The language of sensing their external environment through all ways but speech is almost shockingly similar: on page eighty one, Quentin describes Caddy's wedding through his emphasis on hearing "her heels then in the moonlight like a cloud" and later on page eighty nine, he focuses on his sense of smell when he says "I could smell water". This mirrored trait raises a question deeper than a shared method of expression: if Benjy utilizes his controlled senses to compensate for his physical lack of speech, what, psychologically, is Quentin compensating for? Why might Faulkner put such emphasis on the similarities between Quentin and Benjy?

Crazy about Strantzas

Not only have I found a handful of incredible short stories to choose from, but I have found a new favorite writer as well. The writing of Simon Strantzas embodies everything I look for in a story: beautiful language, detailed imagery, and captivating plot. Now add to that a dark, twisted sense of horror, and you have a short story by Strantzas. Before this assignment, I had never heard of the somewhat morbid writer, but as soon as I happened upon it, I noticed a somewhat sinister vibe that is not unlike the writings of a certain Edgar Allen Poe. That was the deal cincher.
Strantzas has quite the collection of short stories, several of which are bound together in two literary compilations: “Cold to the Touch” and “Beneath the Surface’. As though the titles weren’t entrancing enough, both covers depict a livid image (or in the case of “Cold to the Touch”, lack thereof) which define the word “eerie”. Though I almost wish I could spend weeks doing nothing but combing through his short story collections (and quite frankly, I might), I’ve narrowed my choice down to four stories: “Behind Glass”, “Something New”, “Dinner at the Factory”, and “Pinholes in Black Muslin”. I am unequivocally thrilled by and in love with all four.