Finished: April 6, 2024
Why I read this
I’m not sure why, but Faulkner has always intimidated me a little bit. F. Scott Fitzgerald never gave me the same type of pause, and even Ernest Hemingway was easy to get into because The Old Man and The Sea was so short and light, but Faulkner has always felt more serious, heavier, like if you read his work you’re a scholar and not someone who’s just into good fiction. Even after I read The Unvainquished in high school (and I remember loving it), The Reivers here gave me a bit of apprehension before I decided to go for it. I think it has been a help that my collection of English books that I have here in France is quickly dwindling and I will be forced to continue with the ones I have, and avoid to be distracted by the ones that might be more flashy, but a bit less impactful.
What I learned
From the beginning this book reminded me of the story of To Kill a Mockingbird (with the heavy adult truths being thrust upon an innocent child) written in the style of Lonesome Dove that had a slow drawl feel that just fit the scenery of post civil war Mississippi. Frankly, it is shocking the number of acclaimed novels that seem to come out of this similar setting (post-civil war, pre-WW1, rural (often Southern) United States), how this mix of themes manages to inspire people time and time again and continue to make us think and ask questions. I feel like I’ve thought about and discussed many of these ideas in some of my other recent books, but still somehow this one let me look at it from a new perspective, added value to the arguements without just smashing the idea into the reader over and over.
The first theme that I’ve seen a lot of recently that really struck me was the idea of opportunity and how it does not fall equally upon us. Obviously the main character Lucious is privileged. He is white, wealthy, and well educated (a guaranteed recipe for lifelong success in this period of time). Even though he knows what he is doing throughout the book carries very serious consequences for others, he is aware that his actions cannot result in anything more serious for himself than a solid slap on the wrist. His flirting with non-virtue will result in nothing worse than some bad press and an awkward scenario once his grandfather bails him out of whatever predicament he has gotten himself into. Worse, knowing his own privelege and protections he allows others (Ned and Boon) to get into trouble that for them will carry much more severe consequences. So already he is lucky and priveleged. He can take remarkable risks, and learn from them in his life, knowing that he has a safety net where he cannot end up with nothing. But where it really struck me the most was the discussion being held about another youth (Otis), that although he was white had none of the same opportunity to be wealthy or well-educated as Lucious was given. He was a rat and a thief, but at the same time a victim of his circumstances. When asked if he would have acted the same way in Otis’ shoes Lucious was not even able to comprehend the concept. “Would you steal Lucious?”, “No ma’am, you don’t take things”, “even if you had to?”, “No ma’am, you don’t take things”. No exchange has ever resonated with me so clearly how deep privelege can go. If raised in a certain way, you aren’t even capable of thinking against certain social barriers. In a upbringing in a nice, wealthy house, the idea of stealing is so foreign that it seems like an inherent human trait. That you could not be human, and think doing that was ok. It will be a lesson to me to try better to understand that I was raised in a certain way (a very proper, and priveleged way), in which I learned some ways of acting that may now feel like basic human nature, but are not, and if you were not lucky enough to be taught these things, you will act out, and most likely end up the worse for it. A great example comes from the people who act (in my opinion) like animals in boarding the subway. For me, “you don’t push people”, is as much a rule as not stealing, but I’m sure that this behavior was not equally taught to everyone (it is very clear from the prevalence of subway pushers that it was not). I am lucky to have been taught this, because a reason for my success is largely in my luck in being born to a family that raised me with certain ideals and values. I can quickly find myself in my normal rabit hole of what is proper, and what should people be held responsible for regarding their behavior as compared to their upbringings, but I think I’ll leave it with the simple idea that trying to put yourself in someone else’s shoes may be difficult, if not even impossible, making empathy a skill that is all the more valuable.
I stumbled upon my second theme almost by accident. In a weekend trip to Giverny (bougie I know) with my finacée we discussed a bit about the challenges of balancing “living in the moment” with “planning for the future”. On the one hand you might die tomorrow so we should enjoy each day as much as possible. Sometimes it’s not a big deal to eat out even if its a bit expenssive, or getting that bottle of wine at dinner at the restaurant, or putting off a chore and just relaxing for the day. At the same time, those who do not plan for the future at all may find themselves without savings, without investments, never being able to be financially independent, having not constructed a life that they wanted to live because they were too busy having fun being young to put any effort into long term ideas. This second side was well expressed by a quote in the book “you see, if only people didn’t refuse quick and hard to think about next Monday, Virtue wouldn’t have such a hard and thankless time of it.” It even goes back to a scientific part of a Malcolm Galdwell book (Talking to Strangers) where he mentionned that what alcohol actually does to you when you are drunk is that it takes away your ability to think about the future, to understand the consequences of todays actions, which shows easily why those of us who drink a bit too much, more frequently end up in situations where they have not well planned for the future, and they are all the worse for not having done so. So finding that proper balance, like for Lucious, I think will be a challenging thing for me in my life. Living in Paris everything I could ever want is at my finger tips. Holding myself back and working hard on my projects to set up the future, instead of devoting all my time to simple pleasures will be a constant struggle. As I write this I know that the motivation to go running this evening, is going to be very challenging to find, but if I find it, will I be happier for having done it, or would I have been happier enjoying the rest of my free time on my Sunday evening. Who knows?
Another thing that I found remarkable here was again the idea that language allows you to express things in a different way. That certain feelings, emotions, situations, etc. simply cannot be expressed well in simple language. For The Reivers both the vocabulary and the syntax I found to be about as high level as you can get in the English language, even if it included lots of base words. But this reminded me of the questions I asked in Invisible Man whether or not it is counterproductive to write in language that is so complex that it becomes exclusive. This was a similar situation. At the one side, the language is art. It is constructed intentionally and perfectly to invoke certain feelings or emotions, yet it is not accessible to the masses. For a book on Civil Rights like Invisible Man maybe it is more important to be accessible, than a general fiction like this one. I certainly would not want it to be changed and lessened for those who are capable of appreciating it fully (of which few I am not even to be counted among (look, I can even write more pretentiously with Faulkner’s example in my head)). I still have not figured out what level of exclusivity I feel is appropriate for art, and whether it is the same for each form of art, or if it should be adapted to each scenario differently.
A final comment I wanted to make was to discuss how this period feels so strange in rights for people. Segretion is alive and well in these books, but often the characters seem rather content with the situation. Specifically, Ned in this book reminded me of some things I’ve read about Eastern cultures where the power dynamic is much different than we normally find acceptable in Western cultures. The idea that people who are powerfull have an obligation to take care of those in their charge, and the charges have the responsibility of loyalty to their fathers, bosses, masters. Ned and Lucious’ grandfather have this dynamic, and as messed up as it seems to a modern reader neither one of them seems unhappy with the situation. Ned can go galavanting to Tennessee and suffer next to no consequences, like a child might, but at the price of accepting his subservient position. What makes it feel stranger still is when characters in this situation make even worse comments about the situations of others. Such as when Boon beats Everbe, Ned argues that there is no better way that a woman can know that she’s on a man’s mind than that. Even domestic violence can have its charm! It goes further to show how this period is a very strange mix. It feels noble and right, the “glorious age before the automobile”, but at the same time the tensions of race, sexism, classism, etc. are everywhere (not even counting the frequent use of the N-word). Then even the characters most affected by predjudice come out and say horrible things about a different group of disenfranchised people. I think we still have this problem today as well, such as working class whites blaming immigrants as the cause of all of their problems, where both are just in bad situations and need help to get out and the only people in a position to provide that help are the large corporations and wealthy elite who hold all the power, but want to convince each lesser group that the other group is the problem (note I think both parties do this, but maybe not to the same extent).
What I didn’t like
I really enjoyed the book here, it was full of twists and turns and had a great balance between explaining what needed explaining (at least in terms of plot), and leaving the reader to guess or decipher to real meanings. However, one thing that was a challenge and not well explained was a lot of the local vernacular of 1905 Mississippi and Tennessee. Even though I like to believe that I am somwhat well versed in the customs of the American South I found myself frequently asking what was meant in a phrase or passage. Especially complex were the parts where Ned would speak adding on top of the already complex portions an additional dialect reminiscent of Zora Neal Hurstons Their Eyes Were Watching God. I ask the question below at what point a book like this should include footnotes or other explanations, like you might see in Shakespear or Dickens, to cover things that the modern reader has little chance of intuitively understanding, however I think what could have done the best here would be to just have a thorough forward explaining a bit of the context and situation of the American South in this period, and even including (like they do sometimes, and I still can’t decide if I like or hate this. In this case I may be criticizing, but if done poorly this could definitely ruin a book with the twists like this one had.) a basic overview of the plot.
Questions I asked
Why do we tend to glorify the past and villify the modern? This period of time was certainly worse by far than modern day for race relations, but so much that is happening in modern day claims that we are doing very very poorly on that front.
At what point should books be given footnotes or additional explanations? This book is only 60ish years old, but many of the references are for a period of over 100 years ago and I will admit many of the references were lost on me.
What is the proper balance between future planning and living in the moment?
My Favorite Quote
“Humanity will destroy itself not by fission but by another beginning with f which is a verb-action also as well as a conditional state.”
William Faulkner
Books I liked like this one
Lonesome Dove : Larry McMurty (for a different but similar golden age of America with a similar writing style)
To Kill a Mocking Bird : Harper Lee (for a coming of age story in the American South)
Book Reviews for Mom 