Speaking in terms of baggage involving Faulkner, I have one piece of baggage. This piece of baggage is unlike any other piece of baggage I own. This is a boring, dull, uninteresting piece of baggage. This piece of baggage contains lots of words, visited points of view, and an overall bland flavor. If this piece of baggage were to have a color, it would be gray, but not the super exciting gray, a more morose and saddening gray.  You can only carry this baggage for about an hour and a half, but you will eventually get sick of it and throw it on the ground, leaving another poor defenseless soul to be sucked up by its void of boredom. This piece of luggage is known as the book As I Lay Dying. I had no idea that a book talking about someone dying could actually drain one’s life force. I attempted to read this book during my sophomore year in high school. My literary palette was not as developed as it is now, but I will stand by my primary statement that this book was terribly boring. I could not handle the bland word choice, the constant switching of point of view, and the overall setting of the story. I could not get into the story no matter how hard I tried. There is a smaller piece of baggage to accompany the bland one; it is smaller, but a bit more dynamic, containing a lot more substance. I like to refer to that one as Barn Burning.