The Reivers by William Faulkner

Third reading; first read about 1975


Many people seem hesitant to tackle Faulkner, perhaps having heard that his books are unconventional and difficult to read. Or perhaps they even started reading his most famous book, The Sound and the Fury, and became hopelessly confused as he switched without warning from narrator to narrator. For all those reluctant readers, I recommend this one as a starting point, a place to start falling under the Faulkner spell. Surprisingly enough, it was his last novel, published just before his death. It won the Pulitzer Prize in 1963.

This novel is written in a straight-forward linear style, is narrated by only one person, and is much different in tone from his other works. Instead of the dark Southern Gothic filled with disturbing events and grotesque characters, we have the Southern picaresque, more in the vein of Huckleberry Finn. It is also very funny.

Eleven-year-old Lucius is enticed by Boon Hagganbeck (what a great name!), his father's hired hand, to join him in "borrowing" his grandfather's new car (the first in the county) in the family's absence. On their way to Memphis, when it is too late to turn back, the two discover they have a stowaway, the grandfather's Negro employee Ned. The three unlikely reivers (thieves) thus begin an adventure which includes a mudhole-for-profit, a stay at a whore house, the trading of the car for a stolen horse, the conversion of a whore to the honest life, and a horse race with surprising results.

All of this (quite possibly) tall tale is told by Lucius as an old man to his grandson. The conversations recounted are in the vernacular, and they all seem completely natural, which is most always not true when educated white writers attempt to duplicate the language of poor whites and uneducated Negroes in the old South.

Even with its differences, this novel is similar to others by Faulkner in its language and style, which is entirely original and unique. The writing has a rhythm, a cadence, which results in the near poetic. The best way to read Faulkner is aloud, because his most usual method of narration is a reportage of the spoken word. When read aloud, all the complex and seemingly bewildering sentence structure makes complete sense. I'm not sure if a non-resident of the South would be as impressed as I am, but I can remember the stories (quite possibly tall tales) told to me by my grandmother from Alabama, and they had the same sound and the same meandering style.

In my reading of contenders for the 2014 Pulitzer Prize, I have been struck by their samenesses. They all seem a bit removed from their stories, a bit too concerned with writing striking descriptions, more than a bit too concerned with clever devices and gimmicks. It's like they all attended the same writers' workshop. (This is rather a rash judgment, I know; however, it's how it seems to me.) I am grateful as a reader for writers like William Faulkner who wrote the sounds they heard in their heads, not what they were taught was sellable. (At least that's the way it seems to me.)

In summary, I highly recommend this novel. It is a treat! Then move on to the rest of Falkner.