Faulkner

I am reading The Unvanquished by William Faulkner right now and that truly astounds me. That I am reading it, not actually the story itself.

Years ago, when I was taking an American literature survey course in college, I hated Faulkner, specifically, I could barely get through the story, The Bear. Of course I was seventeen years old and had many things on my mind besides reading copious amounts of literature and Faulkner's writing is filled with words, lots of words, and long, very long, sentences.

So why am I reading it now? Well, I have a friend who is a professor in Jackson, Mississippi and he is teaching an American survey course very similar to the one I took way back in the dark ages. Actually right now, they are studying Poe's poetry, but in his words, "I love Faulkner to death." I mean, he would. He is a passionate English teacher in a southern university.

I am a fast talking northerner who seldom reads anything deeper than a novel anymore. Still I can appreciate his point of view. We have much in common and he claims he can make me love Faulkner too. We'll see.

At the worst, I enrich myself a bit. At the best, I am embarking upon a new little leg of this journey along the way.