This week, I read Lawrence Edward Bowling's 1947 piece entitled "Faulkner: Technique of The Sound and the Fury," which examines the controversial chronological style that makes the novel so famous. In his piece, Bowling attempts to support Faulkner and his style, using a long and thorough argument to dispel accusations that the narrative technique is simply an "unnecessary obstacle" and providing relevant examples to show his reader how crucial the book's chronology is to the theme and the reader.
Essentially, however, Bowling sums his argument up in three main parts. First, he notes that, although utterly confusing, the disorder of time in the novel is necessary for the plot to make sense as a whole. Given the way that it was written, each of the book's four sections ultimately rely on the other three to be understood and if rearranged into chronological order by the dates at the beginning of each section, the novel could not make sense. This is because, peppered throughout the book, there constantly appear small facts and details that help us comprehend the story, yet, those facts are not always presented prior to a particular sections and sometimes are only revealed after the scene has taken place. Secondly, Bowling also argues that the random, stream-of-consciousness narration prevalent is crucial in helping each character develop a certain identity. In this book, we learn of the characters not by facts "but by [being presented] the reactions of certain characters to these facts" (Bowling 11). Therefore, the baffling and un-descriptive narration of Benjy and the soliloquy-esque, complex narration of Quentin are the only ways we as readers get to know the characters and understand how they work and think. Thus, Bowling points out that if all the narration in the book were like Benjy's or like Quentin's, there would be nothing unique and special about those characters and the reader would be left with a lesser understanding of what kind of people they truly are.
Finally, Bowling concludes his article with the point that Faulkner's narrative style is essential to the theme of the book. As he describes it, "The Sound and the Fury is a novel about disorder, disintegration, and the absence of perspective" centered around "the internal chaos of the characters,--their intellectual, moral, and spiritual confusion" (Bowling 15). Given the fact that much of the narration seems, at least to the reader, as chaotic and very confusing, Faulkner's style in this novel perfectly facilitates the novel's main theme and ultimately, we get a full understanding of the disorder in the characters' lives through it. Therefore, as Bowling puts it, "As an introduction to this theme, what could be more appropriate than the flat, perspective-less language of Benjy's section?" (Bowling 15). Thus, in the end, while the language is quite possibly the source of the reader's confusion, it is also the key to his or her complete understanding on the novel; a cruel double-edged sword.
All in all, I thought Bowling's piece on The Sound and the Fury was extremely enlightening and that it adequately explained why an author like Faulkner would use a technique so troublesome for his or her reader. It makes sense now why the story is written in such a fashion and with the information I have learned, such as Faulkner's attempt to use narration to portray disorder, disintegration, and absence of perspective, I can now apply that knowledge to better interpret the novel as I'm reading. Also, I found the article to be an interesting review of stream-of-consciousness as well, helping me to better understand much of what it is about. For example, Bowling, at one point, mentions how, in Quentin's section, Faulkner simplifies the thought processes to make it easier to understand. Given my personal perspective that section two was extremely complicated to begin with, I found it odd that Bowling would say this, but upon further reading, came to understand that if I myself were to write out my conscious thought process, it would also be quite confusing. Thus, it gave more meaning to my understanding of stream-of-consciousness and more credibility to Faulkner's narrative form.
In conclusion, I thought this work was a very thorough, informative, and ultimately enjoyable work on The Sound and the Fury
Article:
Faulkner: Technique of The Sound and the Fury
Lawrence Edward Bowling
The Kenyon Review, Vol. 10, No. 4 (Autumn 1948), pp. 552-566.
Published by: Kenyon College
Monday, October 27, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
Wartime Inhumanity: the Effects of War as Illustrated in Tim O'Brien's "The Things They Carried"
In the short story “The Things They Carried,” Tim O’Brien illustrates a grotesque, graphic, but soberingly realistic depiction of war through the demise of the story’s main character, Lieutenant Jimmy Cross, in the setting of the 1960’s Vietnam conflict. Ripped apart by the death of one of the men under his command, in the story, Cross undergoes a transformation in which his idealistic, but obsessed attitude gives way to his formation into a mere machine fighting for the American war effort. Against a background of wartime brutality and horror, Cross’s transformation in many ways illustrates the demoralizing effect of war on the human soul through the eyes of O’Brien and ultimately presents the prevailing theme of the story: that war is a multifaceted destroyer that wreaks havoc on not only the body, but also the mind.
O’Brien conveys this theme through a couple of short steps. First, he begins by breaking the story into a number of short sections, each with its own subject, in order to contrast the horror, senselessness, and brutality of war against the nature of Cross’s character. To do this, the sections more or less switch off between characterizing Cross and his immense love obsession with Martha and creating an elaborate depiction of the war’s horrors. For example, the first paragraph of the story introduces the reader to Martha and Cross’s love for her, illustrating his predicament in that “more than anything, he wanted [her] to love him as he loved her” (1). From this, the reader gets the sense of a hopeless young man who “[is] just a kid at war, in love,” thereby characterizing the lieutenant as a caring, emotional being (22). Once at that understanding, the reader moves onto the next section and instead of finding an intricate description of emotion, discovers a laundry list of the heavy supplies and personal items each soldier carried. In contrast to the one before it, this section is part of O’Brien’s description of war’s brutality, depicting the physical strain each soldier much endure before even getting in a firefight. Later, these descriptions of war are further continued with the vast descriptions of weaponry, representing the ever-present reality of shooting and death in war. Thus, as a result, both of these sections contrast one another incredibly well by juxtaposing two different tones, war and love, thereby driving the conveyance of the theme forward.
With this structure in place, O’Brien then fully develops a contrast between Cross and the other characters, which in many ways represent the effect of war’s brutality, in order to better illustrate the transformation and the theme. Thus, because of the multiple sections describing his unwavering love for Martha, there develops a contrast between the caring and seemingly “humanity” of Cross and the relative indifference to life possessed by his men. As certain sections describe Cross’s good luck pebbles, letters from Martha, and his constant inquiry into her feelings toward him, others describe Norman Bowker’s (one of Cross’s men) good luck thumb, which is cut off the hand of a “VC corpse, a boy of fifteen or sixteen” before another of Cross’s men kicks the dead boy’s head to “[watch] the flies scatter” (28, 34). When some sections document Cross’s daydreaming about attempts he could have made to show Martha how much he loves her, others describe the ways in which the soldiers burned and pillaged the village of Than Khe with airstrikes and then “watched the wreckage,” and how they made jokes about Lavender’s drug use and his death, saying that whole incident was a real “mind blower” for him (40, 72). Also, after Lavender’s death, the reader further sees this contrast by how disturbed Cross is and how his role in the death “he would have to carry like a stone in his stomach for the rest of the war;” however, on the other hand, his men, such as Kiowa, “[wish] [they] could find some great sadness…, but the emotion [isn’t] there” and are just “pleased to be alive” after the incident is all done (42, 60). With contrast effectively established, these vast differences help to portray Cross as a man who still is holding onto his past and has not totally succumbed to the mentality and brutality of war, making him a rare subject on O’Brien’s battlefield.
Yet, sooner or later, the contrast stops and the transformation takes place, finally revealing the theme of war’s multifaceted destruction on the individual. Based around the death of Lavender, the transformation of Lieutenant Cross occurs once he realizes that if he had not been daydreaming about Martha when the sniper killed Lavender, he could have been able to save him. Confronted with this immense amount of guilt and the sense of failing his duties, he is utterly overwhelmed and suddenly any idealism that the lieutenant had vanishes as he finally realizes “she did not love him and never would” (43). With a vengeance against himself, he becomes a changed man, ordering his men to torch the village of Than Khe, burning the pictures and letters of Martha, and vowing to “perform his duties firmly and without negligence” (99). Therefore, in a way, he becomes a machine, giving his complete focus to his responsibilities and pushing out of his mind any hopes or memories from back home. Now, much like his men, he is devoid of emotion and only concerned about humping it and getting their mission accomplished as to “avoid the blush of dishonor” (77). Ultimately, in the end, the transformation shows how war has ruined any optimism within the heart of a certain individual and thus finally O’Brien’s theme is conveyed to the reader.
In the end, “The Things They Carried” is a short, but chilling testament to the effects of war on the human soul and goes to show that, regardless of the mission, war is inevitably a destructive force.
O’Brien conveys this theme through a couple of short steps. First, he begins by breaking the story into a number of short sections, each with its own subject, in order to contrast the horror, senselessness, and brutality of war against the nature of Cross’s character. To do this, the sections more or less switch off between characterizing Cross and his immense love obsession with Martha and creating an elaborate depiction of the war’s horrors. For example, the first paragraph of the story introduces the reader to Martha and Cross’s love for her, illustrating his predicament in that “more than anything, he wanted [her] to love him as he loved her” (1). From this, the reader gets the sense of a hopeless young man who “[is] just a kid at war, in love,” thereby characterizing the lieutenant as a caring, emotional being (22). Once at that understanding, the reader moves onto the next section and instead of finding an intricate description of emotion, discovers a laundry list of the heavy supplies and personal items each soldier carried. In contrast to the one before it, this section is part of O’Brien’s description of war’s brutality, depicting the physical strain each soldier much endure before even getting in a firefight. Later, these descriptions of war are further continued with the vast descriptions of weaponry, representing the ever-present reality of shooting and death in war. Thus, as a result, both of these sections contrast one another incredibly well by juxtaposing two different tones, war and love, thereby driving the conveyance of the theme forward.
With this structure in place, O’Brien then fully develops a contrast between Cross and the other characters, which in many ways represent the effect of war’s brutality, in order to better illustrate the transformation and the theme. Thus, because of the multiple sections describing his unwavering love for Martha, there develops a contrast between the caring and seemingly “humanity” of Cross and the relative indifference to life possessed by his men. As certain sections describe Cross’s good luck pebbles, letters from Martha, and his constant inquiry into her feelings toward him, others describe Norman Bowker’s (one of Cross’s men) good luck thumb, which is cut off the hand of a “VC corpse, a boy of fifteen or sixteen” before another of Cross’s men kicks the dead boy’s head to “[watch] the flies scatter” (28, 34). When some sections document Cross’s daydreaming about attempts he could have made to show Martha how much he loves her, others describe the ways in which the soldiers burned and pillaged the village of Than Khe with airstrikes and then “watched the wreckage,” and how they made jokes about Lavender’s drug use and his death, saying that whole incident was a real “mind blower” for him (40, 72). Also, after Lavender’s death, the reader further sees this contrast by how disturbed Cross is and how his role in the death “he would have to carry like a stone in his stomach for the rest of the war;” however, on the other hand, his men, such as Kiowa, “[wish] [they] could find some great sadness…, but the emotion [isn’t] there” and are just “pleased to be alive” after the incident is all done (42, 60). With contrast effectively established, these vast differences help to portray Cross as a man who still is holding onto his past and has not totally succumbed to the mentality and brutality of war, making him a rare subject on O’Brien’s battlefield.
Yet, sooner or later, the contrast stops and the transformation takes place, finally revealing the theme of war’s multifaceted destruction on the individual. Based around the death of Lavender, the transformation of Lieutenant Cross occurs once he realizes that if he had not been daydreaming about Martha when the sniper killed Lavender, he could have been able to save him. Confronted with this immense amount of guilt and the sense of failing his duties, he is utterly overwhelmed and suddenly any idealism that the lieutenant had vanishes as he finally realizes “she did not love him and never would” (43). With a vengeance against himself, he becomes a changed man, ordering his men to torch the village of Than Khe, burning the pictures and letters of Martha, and vowing to “perform his duties firmly and without negligence” (99). Therefore, in a way, he becomes a machine, giving his complete focus to his responsibilities and pushing out of his mind any hopes or memories from back home. Now, much like his men, he is devoid of emotion and only concerned about humping it and getting their mission accomplished as to “avoid the blush of dishonor” (77). Ultimately, in the end, the transformation shows how war has ruined any optimism within the heart of a certain individual and thus finally O’Brien’s theme is conveyed to the reader.
In the end, “The Things They Carried” is a short, but chilling testament to the effects of war on the human soul and goes to show that, regardless of the mission, war is inevitably a destructive force.
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