“I set out deliberately to write a tour-de-force. Before I ever put pen to paper and set down the first word I knew what the last word would be and almost where the last period would fall.” —William Faulkner on As I Lay Dying
As I Lay Dying is Faulkner’s harrowing account of the Bundren family’s odyssey across the Mississippi countryside to bury Addie, their wife and mother. Narrated in turn by each of the family members—including Addie herself—as well as others the novel ranges in mood, from dark comedy to the deepest pathos. Considered one of the most influential novels in American fiction in structure, style, and drama, As I Lay Dying is a true 20th-century classic.
This edition reproduces the corrected text of As I Lay Dying as established in 1985 by Noel Polk.
|Publisher:||Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group|
|Series:||Vintage International Series|
|Edition description:||Vintage International Edition|
|Product dimensions:||5.19(w) x 8.02(h) x 0.63(d)|
|Lexile:||870L (what's this?)|
|Age Range:||14 - 18 Years|
About the Author
William Cuthbert Faulkner was born in 1897 and raised in Oxford, Mississippi, where he spent most of his life. One of the towering figures of American literature, he is the author of The Sound and the Fury, Absalom, Absalom!, and As I Lay Dying, among many other remarkablebooks. Faulkner was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1950 and France’s Legion of Honor in 1951. He died in 1962.
Date of Birth:September 25, 1897
Date of Death:July 6, 1962
Place of Birth:New Albany, Mississippi
Place of Death:Byhalia, Mississippi
Read an Excerpt
Jewel and I come up from the field, following the path in single file. Although I am fifteen feet ahead of him, anyone watching us from the cottonhouse can see Jewel's frayed and broken straw hat a full head above my own.
The path runs straight as a plumb-line, worn smooth by feet and baked brick-hard by July, between the green rows of laidby cotton, to the cottonhouse in the center of the field, where it turns and circles the cottonhouse at four soft right angles and goes on across the field again, worn so by feet in fading precision.
The cottonhouse is of rough logs, from between which the chinking has long fallen. Square, with a broken roof set at a single pitch, it leans in empty and shimmering dilapidation in the sunlight, a single broad window in two opposite walls giving onto the approaches of the path. When we reach it I turn and follow the path which circles the house. Jewel, fifteen feet behind me, looking straight ahead, steps in a single stride through the window. Still staring straight ahead, his pale eyes like wood set into his wooden face, he crosses the floor in four strides with the rigid gravity of a cigar store Indian dressed in patched overalls and endued with life from the hips down, and steps in a single stride through the opposite window and into the path again just as I come around the corner. In single file and five feet apart and Jewel now in front, we go on up the path toward the foot of the bluff.
Tull's wagon stands beside the spring, hitched to the rail, the reins wrapped about the seat stanchion. In the wagon bed are two chairs. Jewel stops at the spring and takes the gourd from the willow branch and drinks. I pass him and mount the path, beginning to hear Cash's saw.
When I reach the top he has quit sawing. Standing in a litter of chips, he is fitting two of the boards together. Between the shadow spaces they are yellow as gold, like soft gold, bearing on their flanks in smooth undulations the marks of the adze blade: a good carpenter, Cash is. He holds the two planks on the trestle, fitted along the edges in a quarter of the finished box. He kneels and squints along the edge of them, then he lowers them and takes up the adze. A good carpenter. Addie Bundren could not want a better one, a better box to lie in. It will give her confidence and comfort. I go on to the house, followed by the
Chuck. Chuck. Chuck. of the adze.
So I saved out the eggs and baked yesterday. The cakes turned out right well. We depend a lot on our chickens. They are good layers, what few we have left after the possums and such. Snakes too, in the summer. A snake will break up a hen-house quicker than anything. So after they were going to cost so much more than Mr Tull thought, and after I promised that the difference in the number of eggs would make it up, I had to be more careful than ever because it was on my final say-so we took them. We could have stocked cheaper chickens, but I gave my promise as Miss Lawington said when she advised me to get a good breed, because Mr Tull himself admits that a good breed of cows or hogs pays in the long run. So when we lost so many of them we couldn't afford to use the eggs ourselves, because I could not have had Mr Tull chide me when it was on my say-so we took them. So when Miss Lawington told me about the cakes I thought that I could bake them and earn enough at one time to increase the net value of the flock the equivalent of two head. And that by saving the eggs out one at a time, even the eggs wouldn't be costing anything. And that week they laid so well that I not only saved out enough eggs above what we had engaged to sell, to bake the cakes with, I had saved enough so that the flour and the sugar and the stove wood would not be costing anything. So I baked yesterday, more careful than ever I baked in my life, and the cakes turned out right well. But when we got to town this morning Miss Lawington told me the lady had changed her mind and was not going to have the party after all.
"She ought to taken those cakes anyway," Kate says.
"Well," I say, "I reckon she never had no use for them now."
"She ought to taken them," Kate says. "But those rich town ladies can change their minds. Poor folks cant."
Riches is nothing in the face of the Lord, for He can see into the heart. "Maybe I can sell them at the bazaar Saturday," I say. They turned out real well.
"You cant get two dollars a piece for them," Kate says.
"Well, it isn't like they cost me anything," I say. I saved them out and swapped a dozen of them for the sugar and flour. It isn't like the cakes cost me anything, as Mr Tull himself realises that the eggs I saved were over and beyond what we had engaged to sell, so it was like we had found the eggs or they had been given to us.
"She ought to taken those cakes when she same as gave you her word," Kate says. The Lord can see into the heart. If it is His will that some folks has different ideas of honesty from other folks, it is not my place to question His decree.
"I reckon she never had any use for them," I say. They turned out real well, too.
The quilt is drawn up to her chin, hot as it is, with only her two hands and her face outside. She is propped on the pillow, with her head raised so she can see out the window, and we can hear him every time he takes up the adze or the saw. If we were deaf we could almost watch her face and hear him, see him. Her face is wasted away so that the bones draw just under the skin in white lines. Her eyes are like two candles when you watch them gutter down into the sockets of iron candle-sticks. But the eternal and the everlasting salvation and grace is not upon her.
"They turned out real nice," I say. "But not like the cakes Addie used to bake." You can see that girl's washing and ironing in the pillow-slip, if ironed it ever was. Maybe it will reveal her blindness to her, laying there at the mercy and the ministration of four men and a tom-boy girl. "There's not a woman in this section could ever bake with Addie Bundren," I say. "First thing we know she'll be up and baking again, and then we wont have any sale for ours at all." Under the quilt she makes no more of a hump than a rail would, and the only way you can tell she is breathing is by the sound of the mattress shucks. Even the hair at her cheek does not move, even with that girl standing right over her, fanning her with the fan. While we watch she swaps the fan to the other hand without stopping it.
"Is she sleeping?" Kate whispers.
"She's just watching Cash yonder," the girl says. We can hear the saw in the board. It sounds like snoring. Eula turns on the trunk and looks out the window. Her necklace looks real nice with her red hat. You wouldn't think it only cost twenty-five cents.
"She ought to taken those cakes," Kate says.
I could have used the money real well. But it's not like they cost me anything except the baking. I can tell him that anybody is likely to make a miscue, but it's not all of them that can get out of it without loss, I can tell him. It's not everybody can eat their mistakes, I can tell him.
Someone comes through the hall. It is Darl. He does not look in as he passes the door. Eula watches him as he goes on and passes from sight again toward the back. Her hand rises and touches her beads lightly, and then her hair. When she finds me watching her, her eyes go blank.
Pa and Vernon are sitting on the back porch. Pa is tilting snuff from the lid of his snuff-box into his lower lip, holding the lip outdrawn between thumb and finger. They look around as I cross the porch and dip the gourd into the water bucket and drink.
"Where's Jewel?" pa says. When I was a boy I first learned how much better water tastes when it has set a while in a cedar bucket. Warmish-cool, with a faint taste like the hot July wind in cedar trees smells. It has to set at least six hours, and be drunk from a gourd. Water should never be drunk from metal.
And at night it is better still. I used to lie on the pallet in the hall, waiting until I could hear them all asleep, so I could get up and go back to the bucket. It would be black, the shelf black, the still surface of the water a round orifice in nothingness, where before I stirred it awake with the dipper I could see maybe a star or two in the bucket, and maybe in the dipper a star or two before I drank. After that I was bigger, older. Then I would wait until they all went to sleep so I could lie with my shirt-tail up, hearing them asleep, feeling myself without touching myself, feeling the cool silence blowing upon my parts and wondering if Cash was yonder in the darkness doing it too, had been doing it perhaps for the last two years before I could have wanted to or could have.
Pa's feet are badly splayed, his toes cramped and bent and warped, with no toenail at all on his little toes, from working so hard in the wet in homemade shoes when he was a boy. Beside his chair his brogans sit. They look as though they had been hacked with a blunt axe out of pig-iron. Vernon has been to town. I have never seen him go to town in overalls. His wife, they say. She taught school too, once.
I fling the dipper dregs to the ground and wipe my mouth on my sleeve. It is going to rain before morning. Maybe before dark. "Down to the barn," I say. "Harnessing the team."
Down there fooling with that horse. He will go on through the barn, into the pasture. The horse will not be in sight: he is up there among the pine seedlings, in the cool. Jewel whistles, once and shrill. The horse snorts, then Jewel sees him, glinting for a gaudy instant among the blue shadows. Jewel whistles again; the horse comes dropping down the slope, stiff-legged, his ears cocking and flicking, his mismatched eyes rolling, and fetches up twenty feet away, broadside on, watching Jewel over his shoulder in an attitude kittenish and alert.
"Come here, sir," Jewel says. He moves. Moving that quick his coat, bunching, tongues swirling like so many flames. With tossing mane and tail and rolling eye the horse makes another short curvetting rush and stops again, feet bunched, watching Jewel. Jewel walks steadily toward him, his hands at his sides. Save for Jewel's legs they are like two figures carved for a tableau savage in the sun.
When Jewel can almost touch him, the horse stands on his hind legs and slashes down at Jewel. Then Jewel is enclosed by a glittering maze of hooves as by an illusion of wings; among them, beneath the upreared chest, he moves with the flashing limberness of a snake. For an instant before the jerk comes onto his arms he sees his whole body earthfree, horizontal, whipping snake-limber, until he finds the horse's nostrils and touches earth again. Then they are rigid, motionless, terrific, the horse back-thrust on stiffened, quivering legs, with lowered head; Jewel with dug heels, shutting off the horse's wind with one hand, with the other patting the horse's neck in short strokes myriad and caressing, cursing the horse with obscene ferocity.
They stand in rigid terrific hiatus, the horse trembling and groaning. Then Jewel is on the horse's back. He flows upward in a stooping swirl like the lash of a whip, his body in midair shaped to the horse. For another moment the horse stands spraddled, with lowered head, before it bursts into motion. They descend the hill in a series of spine-jolting jumps, Jewel high, leech-like on the withers, to the fence where the horse bunches to a scuttering halt again.
"Well," Jewel says, "you can quit now, if you got a-plenty."
Inside the barn Jewel slides running to the ground before the horse stops. The horse enters the stall, Jewel following. Without looking back the horse kicks at him, slamming a single hoof into the wall with a pistol-like report. Jewel kicks him in the stomach; the horse arches his neck back, croptoothed; Jewel strikes him across the face with his fist and slides on to the trough and mounts upon it. Clinging to the hay-rack he lowers his head and peers out across the stall tops and through the doorway. The path is empty; from here he cannot even hear Cash sawing. He reaches up and drags down hay in hurried armsful and crams it into the rack.
"Eat," he says. "Get the goddamn stuff out of sight while you got a chance, you pussel-gutted bastard. You sweet son of a bitch," he says.
It's because he stays out there, right under the window, hammering and sawing on that goddamn box. Where she's got to see him. Where every breath she draws is full of his knocking and sawing where she can see him saying See. See what a good one I am making for you. I told him to go somewhere else. I said Good God do you want to see her in it. It's like when he was a little boy and she says if she had some fertilizer she would try to raise some flowers and he taken the bread pan and brought it back from the barn full of dung.
And now them others sitting there, like buzzards. Waiting, fanning themselves. Because I said If you wouldn't keep on sawing and nailing at it until a man cant sleep even and her hands laying on the quilt like two of them roots dug up and tried to wash and you couldn't get them clean. I can see the fan and Dewey Dell's arm. I said if you'd just let her alone. Sawing and knocking, and keeping the air always moving so fast on her face that when you're tired you cant breathe it, and that goddamn adze going One lick less. One lick less. One lick less until everybody that passes in the road will have to stop and see it and say what a fine carpenter he is. If it had just been me when Cash fell off of that church and if it had just been me when pa laid sick with that load of wood fell on him, it would not be happening with every bastard in the country coming in to stare at her because if there is a God what the hell is He for. It would just be me and her on a high hill and me rolling the rocks down the hill at their faces, picking them up and throwing them down the hill faces and teeth and all by God until she was quiet and not that goddamn adze going One lick less. One lick less and we could be quiet.
What People are Saying About This
For all his concern with the South, Faulkner was actually seeking out the nature of man. Thus we must return to him for that continuity of moral purpose which made for the greatness of our classics.
Faulkner… belongs to the full-dressed post-Flaubert group of Conrad, Joyce, and Proust.
For all the range of effect, philosophical weight, originality of style, variety of characterization, humor, and tragic intensity [Faulkner's works] are without equal in our time and country.
“He is the greatest artist the South has produced. . . . Indeed, through his many novels and short stories, Faulkner fights out the moral problem which was repressed after the nineteenth century [yet] for all his concern with the South, Faulkner was actually seeking out the nature of man. Thus we must turn to him for that continuity of moral purpose which made for greatness of our classics.” —Ralph Ellison
“No man ever put more of his heart and soul into the written word than did William Faulkner. If you want to know all you can about that heart and soul, the fiction where he put it is still right there.” —Eudora Welty
Reading Group Guide
The questions, discussion topics, and author biography that follow are designed to enhance your group's reading of three of William Faulkner's greatest novels: The Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, and Absalom, Absalom! We hope that they will provide you with new ways of thinking and talking about three works that stand as major landmarks in the history of modern American literature, works that exemplify Faulkner's bold stylistic and formal innovations, his creation of unforgettably powerful voices and characters, and his brilliant insight into the psychological, economic, and social realities of life in the South in the transition from the Civil War to the modern era. In their intellectual and aesthetic richness, these novels raise nearly endless possibilities for discussion. The questions below will necessarily be limited and are meant to open several, but certainly not all, areas of inquiry for your reading group.
1. Which are the most intelligent and sympathetic voices in the novel? With whom do you most and least identify? Is Faulkner controlling your closeness to some characters and not others? How is this done, given the seemingly equal mode of presentation for all voices?
2. Even the reader of such an unusual book may be surprised to come upon Addie Bundren's narrative on page 169, if only because Addie has been dead since page 48. Why is Addie's narrative placed where it is, and what is the effect of hearing Addie's voice at this point in the book? Is this one of the ways in which Faulkner shows Addie's continued "life" in the minds and hearts of her family? How do the issues raised by Addie here relate to the book as a whole?
3. Faulkner allows certain charactersespecially Darl and Vardamanto express themselves in language and imagery that would be impossible, given their lack of education and experience in the world. Why does he break with the realistic representation of character in this way?
4. What makes Darl different from the other characters? Why is he able to describe Addie's death [p. 48] when he is not present? How is he able to intuit the fact of Dewey Dell's pregnancy? What does this uncanny visionary power mean, particularly in the context of what happens to Darl at the end of the novel? Darl has fought in World War I; why do you think Faulkner has chosen to include this information about him? What are the sources and meaning of his madness?
5. Anse Bundren is surely one of the most feckless characters in literature, yet he alone thrives in the midst of disaster. How does he manage to command the obedience and cooperation of his children? Why are other people so generous with him? He gets his new teeth at the end of the novel and he also gets a new wife. What is the secret of Anse's charm? How did he manage to make Addie marry him, when she is clearly more intelligent than he is?
6. Some critics have spoken of Cash as the novel's most gentle character, while others have felt that he is too rigid, too narrow-minded, to be sympathetic. What does Cash's list of the thirteen reasons for beveling the edges of the coffin tell us about him? What does it tell us about his feeling for his mother? Does Cash's carefully reasoned response to Darl's imprisonment seem fair to you, or is it a betrayal of his brother?
7. Jewel is the result of Addie's affair with the evangelical preacher Whitfield (an aspect of the plot that bears comparison with Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter). When we read Whitfield's section, we realize that Addie has again allied herself with a man who is not her equal. How would you characterize the preacher? What is the meaning of this passionate alliance, now repudiated by Whitfield? Does Jewel know who his father is?
8. What is your response to the section spoken by Vardaman, which states simply, "My mother is a fish"? What sort of psychological state or process does this declaration indicate? What are some of the ways in which Vardaman insists on keeping his mother alive, even as he struggles to understand that she is dead? In what other ways does the novel show characters wrestling with ideas of identity and embodiment?
9. This is a novel full of acts of love, not the least of which is the prolonged search in the river for Cash's tools. Consider some of the other ways that love is expressed among the members of the family. What compels loyalty in this family? What are the ways in which that loyalty is betrayed? Which characters are most self-interested?
10. The saga of the Bundren family is participated in, and reflected upon, by many other characters. What does the involvement of Doctor Peabody, of Armstid, and of Cora and Vernon Tull say about the importance of community in country life? Are the characters in the town meant to provide a contrast with country people?
11. Does Faulkner deliberately make humor and the grotesque interdependent in this novel? What is the effect of such horrific details as Vardaman's accidental drilling of holes in his dead mother's face? Of Darl and Vardaman listening to the decaying body of Addie "speaking"? Of Vardaman's anxiety about the growing number of buzzards trying to get at the coffin? Of Cash's bloody broken leg, set in concrete and suppurating in the heat? Of Jewel's burnt flesh? Of the "cure" that Dewey Dell is tricked into?
12. In one of the novel's central passages, Addie meditates upon the distance between words and actions: "I would think how words go straight up in a thin line, quick and harmless, and how terribly doing goes along the earth, clinging to it, so that after a while the two lines are too far apart for the same person to straddle from one to the other; and that sin and love and fear are just sounds that people who never sinned nor loved nor feared have for what they never had and cannot have until they forget the words" [pp. 173-74]. What light does this passage shed upon the meaning of the novel? Aren't words necessary in order to give form to the story of the Bundrens? Or is Faulkner saying that wordshis own chosen mediumare inadequate?
13. What does the novel reveal about the ways in which human beings deal with death, grieving, and letting go of our loved ones?
Comparing The Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, andAbsalom, Absalom!
1. In all three of these novels the family is central to structure, plot, and meaning. It is the source of grief and identity as well as the locus of all individual psychic struggles. Do you see all of Faulkner's characters eternally trapped within their familial roles? How do the families differ in each of these novels, and how are they similar? How do the particularly important symbolic roles of the mother and the father differ from book to book?
2. Faulkner tries to make himself disappear in these works. Instead of using the traditional third-person narrator that most readers associate with the author, he directs a chorus of voices that intertwine, complement, and contradict one another. As readers, we must rely on what we learn from the characters themselves as to time, place, plot, and matters of cause and effect. Why do you think Faulkner prefers to make his characters speak "directly" to his readers? How does this technique affect your ability to believe in the worlds that exist in these novels? How would more direct intervention by an authorial voice change your experience?
3. In which of these works do you think Faulkner's style, his use of language, and his formal innovations are most finely tuned, most powerfully worked out? In which do you feel that his stylistic quirks are most annoying, most distracting?
4. All of these novels question our assumptions about time as regular, linear, sequential, predictable. What are some of the ways in which time is disrupted in these works?
5. The Compson family of The Sound and the Fury (1929) plays a central role in Absalom, Absalom! (1936) as well. Does Faulkner want readers of Absalom, Absalom! to assume that Quentin's involvement in the Sutpen story is one of the reasons for his suicide, which takes place three months later in The Sound and the Fury? Do you see a seamless characterization of Quentin and Mr. Compson in the two books?
6. Faulkner is interested in the causes and effects of extreme psychological pressures, as we see in Quentin and Benjy Compson, Henry and Thomas Sutpen, Rosa Coldfield, Vardaman and Darl Bundren, and many other characters in these novels. What are some of the forms that psychopathology takes in Faulkner's world?
7. Faulkner has often been accused of an extremely misogynistic representation of women. Consider Caddy Compson, Dilsey, Dewey Dell and Addie Bundren, Judith Sutpen, Rosa Coldfield, the wife of Charles St. Valery Bon, and other female characters in these three novels. How would you describe Faulkner's notion of the feminine, as compared with the masculine? Do you agree with the critic Irving Howe that "Faulkner's inability to achieve moral depth in his portraiture of young women clearly indicates a major failing as a novelist"?
8. Is the work of Faulkner necessarily different in its impact depending upon whether one is from the North or the South, whether one is black or white?
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Faulkner's As I Lay Dying is an outstanding book, however, it is extremely confusing. My English teacher, who required that we read the book our freshmen year in high school, told us that it's usually a book meant for grad students to read. The book is confusing, but Faulkner's style is unique and will definitely influence your own. His novel requires readers to stop and judge characters, it is necessary to constantly analyze. This is an excellent read for budding writers such as myself, because his style has had so much of an impact on my own. Read it not for enjoyment, because it is boring, but for the improvement of your own writing! It'll improve it so much, you'll notice it yourself.
When reading Faulkner, you always wonder whether the book doesn't make sense or if you are just not as intellectual as is he. I like to think I'm not as intelluctual so my brain is stiumlated by the endless meaning and layers within his books. As I Lay Dying is not a happy story, but that is kind of evident within the title. The syntax and diction used is spectatcular. You find meaning in the way the text is written and the format of the words. In order to understand the novel, you have to read with a pencil in hand, underlining anything that seems important or significant because it most likely is signifcant. The characters are all narrators to the book. I believe, 17 total different point of views. The tricky part is figuring out whose story it is and what is the main theme. I always look at the book and try to figure out what is the meaning. As I Lay Dying gave me endless meanings and i loved being challenged to find them. Although it is simple with language and style, it is close to impossible to decipher the deeper meanings. You constantly second guess yourself because it is hard to know what is "the right answer." But after reading I felt accomplished, and dare i say, smart. There are so many meanings and none that probably come close to Faulkner's original message but it is worth discovering your own meaning to the story. I believe not only this book but all of his books give readers the opportunity to gain their own message within the text. Faulkner is brilliant and I recommend all his books. They are challenging and I believe are best with discussion groups just so you can hear what other meanings are found. I really enjoyed this book it is short, easy to read just hard to decipher bigger meaning. I find it challenging yet enjoyable. I hope you enjoy as much as I did :)
So, I just finished reading "As I Lay Dying" this morning on my way to work. Let me start off saying that this is the second novel that I have read by William Faulkner. I became intrigued by Faulkner's works when a co-worker told me that "The Sound and The Fury" is frequently called one of the toughest novels to read, and he would be impressed if I finished it. So of course I read and somewhat followed it, and feel comfortable in saying that I enjoyed it. That said, starting with "The Sound and The Fury" made reading "As I Lay Dying" feel like a cake walk. I completely and totally enjoyed this novel, and would read it again as well as recommend it to friends. Now I feel prepared to take on more of his novels..next on my list is "Sanctuary".
In the book As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner, Addie, a wife and mother, becomes ill and dies. After giving birth to her second child, Addie had requested to be buried in Jefferson, Mississippi. Addie's husband, Anse, respects his wife's request and he devotes himself to getting her buried in her hometown of Jefferson. Anse does not realize at this time that the journey to Jefferson will be a long and challenging one, for many unfortunate events happen to the family before they reach their destination. One of these events being that all of the bridges on the way to Jefferson have either been flooded or washed away. The book also takes place in the 1920's so all they have to get her there is a wagon and horses which makes the trip even more challenging. Instead of having one set narrator, the author chose to let each person in the family and all of the people they encounter tell the story through their feelings and how they experience the events that take place. Addie is a mother to Dewey Dell, Jewel, Darl, Cash, and Vardaman who all react to their mother's death differently. All of the children are dynamic characters in the book. As I Lay Dying shows how everyone is affected by Addie's death. In my opinion, As I Lay Dying is a book worth reading. Faulkner makes the reader think about objects and ideas different from a way that they are used to. His use of stream of conscientiousness narration with each character telling the story allows the reader to choose whose story is the most reliable. Finally, his themes are ones that the reader can relate to and make their own opinion on. Towards the beginning of the book Addie's husband, Anse, says, "The Lord put roads for travelling: why he laid them down flat on the earth. When he aims for something to be always a-moving, he makes it long ways, like a road or a horse or a wagon, but when he aims for something to stay put, he makes it up-and-down ways, like a tree or a man. And so he never aimed for folks to live on a road, because which gets there first, I says, the road or the house?" (Page 35-36). Although from this quote we can question Anse's intelligence, this is one of my favorite descriptions because you have to actually think about what he is saying. Most people don't base an objects movement on whether its upright or not. The biggest theme that I recognize in the book is the questioning of existence and identity. Darl says, "Yet the wagon is, because when the wagon is was, Addie Bundren will not be. And Jewel is, so Addie Bundren must be. And then I must be, or I could not empty myself for sleep in a strange room. And so if I am not emptied yet, I am is. (Page 80-81). This confusing quote is important because after Addie dies Darl starts questioning the existence of everything. He believes that since his mother is dead she is now a "was" and not an "is". He thinks that if she doesn't exist then he has no mother and he cannot exist. Existence is something that everyone has their own opinion on and I can relate to this theme and Darl because if certain things did not exist I know that my life could not go on. The author often uses quotes like this and his words appear to be a riddle that you have to sort out and decipher. This language makes the reader actually think about what is being said and when you do figure out what it is actually saying it does make sense.
This is my first Faulker book and I now have promised myself to collect all of his books alog with Cormac McCarthy, Edgar Allen Poe, Ernest Hemingway, and F. Scott Fitzgerald. First of all, I love the whole plot and technique of this novel and all the characters are all amazing. I read one review that said that people say they like this book just to sound smart, but I thought to myself, maybe he/she just had trouble reading it and gave up. I had trouble with some parts of the book so I just read the spark notes after reading that one troubling section.
It's probably most unlike anything you've ever read, as it is more of a collection of thoughts than a novel. The story centers around a family coping with their mother's death, and their journey to take her to be buried. It is very difficult to establish a sense of the characters in the beginning, but once you've figured it all out, the book becomes a many-layered and intricate beast of a beauty. It yields layers and layers of nuance and insight, creating a glorious web of intricacy and philosophy that is absolutely astounding. If you have a few weeks, take up this book. Read it, ponder it, and read it once more. Faulkner truly brings the human experience to life. If you read it with care -- with open eyes and open mind -- what you reap from this novel will last you a lifetime
The book AS I Lay Dying, by William Faulkner is written in a type of writing that only he could pull off. It's nothing like you've read before. It shows how the family copes through carrying their mother's rotting body to the town she wants to be buried in. It's very confusing in the beginning but once you get the jist of it it becomes a little easier to understand. What I found was hardest was figuring out who was who. You¿ll find that this book is harder to put down the deeper you get into the book. As you go through the family¿s tragedies and mishaps you¿ll find that it brings them closer in the end. In the end, although their mother is missed, the family must learn to adapt without her.
Depressingly accurate. Why one shouldn't ignore God.
"My mother is a fish." I like stories about the South and what I've read from Faulkner. As I Lay Dying, is most simply a story about a family whose mother dies and the journey the family takes to fulfill her wishes of being buried in her fairly far away hometown. However, this is also a story about family dynamics, human nature, and people being selfish or becoming victims of those who are selfish. It's also a story that taps into myths and themes of Western Civ. in general...coupled with a fascinating narrative style involving stream of consciousness via fifteen different character. I really don't think there is much to say about Faulkner that hasn't already been forced into the brain of nearly every American high school student..I think he's probably one of the better authors that every high school student (except for me) was forced to read...I'm just catching up now.
I really like this audio book. I'm not a big fan of listening to a book before reading it. But this book seems to lend itself to this format. The different characters read by a different actor is a great way to experience this book. The book is one that you can listen to over and over and learn something new each time. If you simply don't have the time to read the book, but can listen to it, I highly recommend this Audible.com version. You may find other versions read by a single actor confusing.
You have to appreciate Faulkner for what he's able to do, and brave enough to do--and while this book may take a couple of reads to really comprehend (unless you're talking about it with other readers or reading very slowly), it comes together to live up to the reputation of the author and this work in particular. It's not one of my favorite books, or even my favorite of Faulkner's work, but if you study literature, writing, or even just enjoy different structures and plays with language, you have to read it at some point, at least once.
One of Faulkner's masterpieces. The many and varied narrators are wonderfully unique and dark. Together, they offer a fragmented and sometimes conflicting view of their journey that invites the reader to piece together the truth (if a single truth exists) for themselves. Faulkner's style is lyrical and seductive, drawing the reader along with the madness of the Bundren family and their quest to honor a dying woman's last wish. The Bundrens are a family of secrets and deceit, the epitome of "dysfunction" and half the fun of this novel is trying to uncover what they have buried.
Faulkner's "As I Lay Dying" follows a dysfunctional family as they bring their mother to be buried in Jefferson, Mississippi as per her final wish. The book is told in the stream-of-consciousness method, where each different chapter is told from a different perspective, sometimes even at a completely different time. One memorable chapter is written from the coffin, by the dead mother. Along the way the reader sees the decaying familial relationship, and at the same time becomes completely captivated by the setting of Faulker's South.The book does not connect to the search-for-self theme as explicitly as Siddhartha, for example. However, along the way the Bundrens discover a lot about themselves, each other, and their relationships. Some narrators that the reader trusts at the beginning turn out to be legitimately insane, and vice versa. None of the family members really understand why this woman demanded on being buried in Jefferson, and a large part of the novel is the questioning of this and consequently themselves. I recommend this book highly. It is definitely a tough read, and the stream of consciousness style definitely means you have to be 100% cognizant when reading. It is a very rewarding and deep read though- the story itself is very linear, but the character's subplots and thoughts essentially make the book. Definitely go read this.
Honestly, at first I wondered if I would finish reading this book. It is just plain miserable. I read your reviews here, and for the life of me, I still cannot see what some of you considered funny. The despair just went on and on and on. As if sitting through a sweltering hot day, I just waited for something to change. If you hold on long enough, it does.Faulkner writes in a stream-of-consciousness style that carries the story well, eventually keeping the reader very involved. Eac h chapter is titled and narrated by one of the characters, some several times and others only once. The drawback is that so much of the time, it isn't clear what they are thinking of or talking about. I would not have had the patience to go on with it without finding some outside explanation to clarify what was happening. The story is simple. The mother of a poor family has died and they are taking her to her hometown to be buried. They are beset by one disaster after another. By reading the chapters as if listening to the narrators mind, the complexities of the family are outlined and woven together eventually giving a rustic scene of the dysfunctionality and psyche of the family as a whole. I'm not sure that you understand or relate to the emotions, but they are there and they are deep. Perhaps to augument their dispair. It is possible you will find yourself evaluating your own group from this viewpoint. I found it troublesome and haunting and I think you may find glimpses of yourself or those you love or hate here. Curiously, because each person starts out so far removed from the reader. they wrap up in quite a heartfelt reality. I feel a large distance from them and yet realize that parts of them are likely part of all of us. It gives them life, although it is with a dull warmth. It haunts you. I'm afraid this will stay with me for awhile, whether I liked it or not. You don't have to like a book for it to be good.Addendum: I just have to put this in here. I finished reading this book this morning. It has been on my mind all day. I so much hate one of the characters that people I see make me think "That looks like _____! I"d like to run ___ over!!!!" And what about ___ and ____?????? It's as if they are real live people, which happens when you read a book but this is more intense!!! I guess we have to say it is a "darn good book'!!!
What can I say about a book I enjoyed yet don't completely understand, even after having read commentary. "My mother is a fish" is a whole chapter. Faulkner tells the story from several perspectives. It's brilliant in how he does it, but I missed whole parts of the reality, e.g. Addie having at least one of the children from an affair with the pastor. Still, it's funny and tells a story that is challenging, if not enjoyable. The pathetic nature of the hapless characters reminded me of "A Confederacy of Dunces."
One of my friends, not highly literarily schooled, brouight me this book just before a heart operation was scheduled. Such a sense of humour, eh? The dialogue is p;ure downhome for the rural people through the Appalachians up through the eastern mountains. In the book is the first usage I remember seeing of an idiomati9c phrase i use in my life, but mostly in my writing, e.g., "to get in a tight." Faulkner used it several times in this story about old man Anze and his family taking the rotting body of Attie the grandmother to a burfial place far away across raging rivers and through dusty, hot days.
Weird, weird book. I hope this review has been helpful.
This is the perfect starting place for a Faulkner virgin in my opinion. It gives you the POV traits that become so imperative in some of his larger works, while keeping it nice and simple and easy to read. Short chapters and rapid action keep this compelling for those who are new to this style. A lot of reviews on other sites say differently, suggesting Light in August and/or The Unvanquished as the perfect starting place. They're lying. Those are definitely not to be missed - however, to read Faulkner is to read his major works. As I Lay Dying prepares you for what's coming...Light in August does not. The Unvanquished? Those are basically short stories so...this would be my choice for best first Faulkner.
Whilst reading this novel I couldn't decide whether I liked it or not, but on completion it stands out as an excellent mini-epic about generations. I was especially drawn to the split narrative, and Faulkner's ability to capture a unique voice and language for each of the participating characters. I have an odd sensation about the novel that none of its constituent parts is fantastic, but that viewed together they just seem to work. After reading 'As I Lay Dying' I am compelled to try out some more Faulkner in the near future.
I loved it but it's almost too perfect.
As I Lay Dying was my first ever interaction with Faulkner, and I must say, now I know what all the hype is about.The plot involves a mother, Addie Bundren, who has died, and her family fulfilling the promise to bury her in the distant Jefferson county, a journey rife with trials and tribulations. Additionally, each family member has their own reasons for getting to Jefferson county, other than to bury Addie.The literary technique of the novel involves 59 chapters, each of which is narrated by one of 15 individuals, including the deceased Addie. Each character has a unique voice, which shows through in the writing, ranging from Cash's first chapter, which reads like an instruction manual, to Darl's last chapter, which reads like James Joyce, to Vardaman's quotable chapter, which is only five words long.Expertly crafted, this book shows that Faulkner had mastered dark humor. As well, he uses the literary technique to its fullest strength. The characters, both caricatures and realistic people, are at the same time sad and hilarious.If you're a fan of other Faulkner works, or enjoy the writings of Joyce, then you may very well enjoy As I Lay Dying.
The 1949 Nobel Prize for literature winner wrote this novel in 6 weeks and it was published in 1930. It's written in "stream of consciousness" style by 15 different narators. Its dark and depressing and emotionally thick, but well worth pulling yourself through. What struck me is Faulkners ability to make you sincerely attached to the characters, even though they aren't so likeable and there are many of them. Sometimes you find yourself thinking "He wouldn't have said that!" But maybe he would, maybe Darl, a poor, young, uneducated country boy, really would use the word soporific and think so philosophically about time and space ("It is as though the space between us were time: an irrevocable quality. It is as though time, no longer running straight before us in a diminishing line, now runs parallel between us like a looping string, the distance being the doubling accretion of the thread and not the interval between." Other reviewers have hated this, thinking that it is so out of character, that it is the authors uncontrollable urge to write so poetically. But I like to think it's the whole "you can't judge a book by it's cover" thing. I love that there are these wonderful characters who challenge your first judgement of them.
A kind of appalachian version of the Oddyssey. A classic of 20th century american literature. Narrated by numerous voices mostly told by the illiterate Bundren family directly concerned it begins as Addie (the mother) lays dying inside her home while Cash (one of her sons) is constructing her coffin outside. The journey to take her back to her hometown to be buried-- at the same time so Anse her pigheaded husband can find another wife takes the entire family through one catastrope after another most notably of flood and fire. Told in the venacular of backwoods southern people of the first part of the 20th century this book is chock full of pathos and black humor and is in my opinion the best of Faulkner's novels.
In my opinion, the most accessible of Faulkner's work, and a really great book. Surprisingly funny in places, too!