I've read a couple of Faulkner's short stories in high school (although it's been the better part of decade since I've been in high school), as well as "A Rose for Emily" and "Barn Burning" in college. What I've been able to glean from this limited experience is Faulkner tends to write from a particular stream of consciousness or perspective; meaning his prose doesn't follow chronologically, but rather follows the mind itself--if the speaker happens to be a child or mentally disabled, God help the reader.
Personally, I find Faulkner to be like Granddad's Scotch. The older generations swear by it, particularly as I ascend the social ladder; but every time I try it, I just wind up with a bad taste in my mouth and a headache the next day. They tell me it's an "acquired taste" while they grimace and grunt trying to swallow it; pretending that their insides aren't burning and that they actually enjoy the taste of a fetid oak barrel.
I am interested to see if we can cut through Faulkner's complicated prose and find some nugget of universal truth that we can take with us. But like with the scotch, I'd be satisfied if we can simply make it to the end without someone throwing up or pissing on the furniture.
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