Word: yoknapatawphaized
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...must be added, history in the ordinary sense. "Nate Shaw" is a pseudonym, as are almost all the proper names in the book. The privacy of relatives and survivors (Shaw died in 1973) remains intact. Tukabahchee County, Ala., is as fictive as Faulkner's Yoknapatawpha -and, where it really matters, as real. For Nate Shaw was a formidable bearer of memories. Illiterate, denied even the semblance of an education, he had nowhere to file the details of his life but in his head. Once dropped, the baggage of the past is lost forever. So Shaw held on to everything...
...shows. For the present time, though, William Faulkner remains the unrivalled social historian of the Other South, the South and their various causes. And at least until some future historian discovers enough original manuscripts, diaries or records to fill in the history of the dissenting South, the wisdom of Yoknapatawpha will endure...
...than they are given, and less of the obvious hand in their choice. They need the scope of a novel, the fullness of Faulkner. Like the characters, each detail appears too much in isolation, and we never, by full presence or by effective suggestion, get anything like a film Yoknapatawpha...
...magical treatment--a story told worthy of the great story-teller. But Collins fought with the Faulkner family a while back--sin number one for a megabiographer--and his biography had to wait for Blotner's. Cleanth Brooks will eventually come out, I hope, with his second volume of Yoknapatawpha, which probably will be the most analytic and thought-provoking treatment. Cowley will probably do what the rest of us should read the studies which this mammoth work will prompt and from them realize what Joe Blotner should have realized from the beginning and what Faulkner himself often said--that...
Thank God. Oxford gave Faulkner a home, a past and Yoknapatawpha County, a patch of "rich, deep, black alluvial soil," where his imagination took root. Mississippi nurtured his gift by constricting his life. But Blotner's plodding chronology obscures the fact that Faulkner changed very little from the aloof young man released after R.A.F. training in 1918, whose apparent idleness ("Count No Count") scandalized the town. With demonic singlemindedness, Faulkner set out to do what he wanted-write. If distracting jobs were forced on him, he saw to it that they were short-lived. When he was fired from...