September 25: William Faulkner

September 25: The Birth of William Faulkner (1897) | Daily Literary Quotes @ Literary Cobblestones
September 25: The Birth of William Faulkner (1897) | Daily Literary Quotes @ Literary Cobblestones

Hello Cobblers!

Not only is today the best day of the week (Friday!), but we also celebrate the birth of beloved Southern novelist William Faulkner. Wills doesn’t need build-up, so let’s jump into today’s collection.

First up, an extended biography of Faulkner on the Nobel Prize’s site. Faulkner won the prestigious award in Literature in 1949: “William Faulkner – Biographical.

For all things Faulkner and to find fellow Faulkner-ers (forgive me, we need to work on a proper fandom name), check out the Faulkner Society: “The William Faulkner Society.

To take you Faulkner-appreciation to a new level, listen to his lectures from 1957 and 1958 from the University of Virginia: “Faulkner at Virginia: An Audio Archive.

Don’t worry, you’re not getting away without some features.

From The New York Times Magazine: “How William Faulkner Tackled Race — and Freed the South From Itself.” Here’s a great line from the feature: “He’s not concerned with holding us in suspense over the unearthing of events but in keeping us transfixed, as he goes about excavating the soil beneath them, and tracing their post-mortem effects (embodied, perhaps, by the worm that comes to light in a shovelful of dirt, ‘doubtless alive when the clod was thrown up though by afternoon it was frozen again’). The nightmare of the Southern past exists — an accomplished thing. To delve into the nature of the tragedy is the novel’s drama.”

And finally, my personal favorite, Faulkner’s interview in The Paris Review: “William Faulkner, The Art of Ficition No. 12.“Here’s an excerpt (one of Faulkner’s answers): “Once he did it, once he matched the work to the image, the dream, nothing would remain but to cut his throat, jump off the other side of that pinnacle of perfection into suicide. I’m a failed poet. Maybe every novelist wants to write poetry first, finds he can’t, and then tries the short story, which is the most demanding form after poetry. And, failing at that, only then does he take up novel writing.

Now that we’ve consumed an appropriate amount of Faulkner, we can start our weekend.

Good day.

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