On the road: Oxford, Miss. (William Faulkner)

Too often, when forced to read books by a professor or teacher, the books themselves become a chore. Don’t misunderstand, I love reading, always have. But there some books “good for you” which to read are, to me, akin to eating brussels sprouts. I hate brussels sprouts.

Bleak House was one of those books. So was House of The House of the Seven Gables. I read them, had to, but it wasn’t something I enjoyed.

So the first time I was told to read The Sound and the Fury, I was wary. I didn’t know much about William Faulkner, and up to that point wasn’t sure what to make of Southern literature in general. I know people adore Eudora Welty, but she never did take for me. Same goes for Tennessee Williams.

But Faulkner was something different, odd, mysterious. The opening lines “Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting” takes the reader on a fantastic ride through the opening section, told by Benjy Compson. It was a riddle to be solved – I was hooked.

I’ve read most of Faulkner’s work, and was fortunate to be given a first edition of A Fable, his 1954 novel which won him the Pulitzer Prize. This week I was finally able to make my pilgrimage to Oxford to see his home, and his grave. In his house, called Rowan Oak, there’s a writing room, where the outline for A Fable is written on the walls in Faulkner’s hand. Being in that room was nothing short of miraculous.

I take writing quite seriously, and Faulkner is one of my top muses. I only wish that one day I can produce a piece of work a tenth as good as he did.