Collected stories

William Faulkner (1897-1962) famously said that all novelists were failed short story writers and all short story writers were failed poets. To anyone who has tried to write fiction, I think these words make a lot of sense. However, while reading his collection of short stories, it occurred to me over and over again that the source of this quote may in fact be one of its exceptions. It goes without saying that Faulkner's novels are one of the finest bodies of work in that genre, so he was, obviously, a novelist. But with this collection of stories, it seems to me he was also a formidable short story writer. And I would challenge anyone who reads `Carcassone', the beautiful `story' that closes this immense collection, to tell me that Faulkner didn't have the poet in him as well. This is the collection that came out in the fifties containing 42 stories, some from earlier collection and others previously unpublished in book form. They are not grouped chronologically, but rather by `subject': `The Country', `The Village', `The Wilderness', etc. I don't know why Mr. Faulkner did this, but I found it really worked to have stories of similar themes or places grouped together. For those who haven't read Faulkner before, his writing is a dense, `stream of consciousness' style, essentially the exact opposite of his nemesis, the minimalist Ernest Hemingway. This means these stories can be hard reading in a lot of spots, as the meaning of what is happening or what Faulkner wants us to comprehend can be elusive. Some sections or whole stories will need to be read again until the meaning becomes clear, or clearer. Luckily the other trait of Faulkner's is his perfect rhythm, almost like a galloping horse at times, which pulls us through the stories and makes us want to read them again and again. All of these stories are good, but my favorites had to be the haunting `A Rose for Emily' and `That Evening Sun'. `Lo!', `Artist at Home', and `The Brooch' were also favorites of mine. But really, the guy had me from the first line of `Barn Burning': "The store in which the Justice of the Peace's court was sitting smelled of cheese." This book is for anyone who cares at all about literature. Any exploration of twentieth century American literature is virtually worthless without a dip into the ocean that is William Faulkner.