by B. Thomas Cooper

Created on: July 15, 2008

William Faulkner is without question, one of the most unique and influential American literary voices of the last century. His works have influenced many of the giants, including literary legends John Steinbeck and Ernest Hemingway. Still, no-one would be taken aback more by all the fuss than William Faulkner himself, who wrote to live, and lived to write.

Faulkner, Born William Cuthbert Falkner, September 25th, 1897, cranked out literally hundreds of short stories, novels and novellas during the 1920s and 30s. He was a tireless writer, yet remained virtually unknown until 1949, when he was awarded the Nobel Prize in literature. Although his real last name was spelled without the u', a misprint (typo) by his first publisher led him to adopt the new spelling. Faulkner wasn't one for formality. For William Faulkner, it was all about the characters and the story line. Let the critics say what they may.

Just as John Steinbeck wrote of the west during the depression era, Faulkner preferred to write about his home of Mississippi, whose people and culture he understood all too well. His tales of the south's soft underbelly, the hapless pursuits of the poor and the poorly educated, are piqued together through pride and prejudice. They leave behind haunting and perhaps painful shadows with which the reader must cope. Faulkner stands tall alongside other monumental writers of the south, including Tennessee Williams, Flannery O'Connor, and Mark Twain. Faulkner's legacy is one for the ages.

Faulkner is perhaps best known for his novel, Sanctuary, a classic tale of betrayal and tragedy, steeped in a surly broth. Violence seems not so much tolerated in this story, as accepted, almost as a form of currency. And human life, or any form thereof, is rendered incidental, as is exemplified by the child behind the stove. Some things cannot be explained, so much as indemnified. These were dark days for the south. Dark days, indeed!

"Better for her if she were dead tonight, Horace thought, walking on. For me too. He thought of her, Popeye, the woman, the child, Goodwin, all put into a single chamber, bare, lethal, immediate and profound: a single blotting instant between the indignation and the surprise."

William Faulkner died July, 6th, 1962 at age 64. He was buried in Byhalia Mississippi. His works are too numerous to list here. See Wikipedia for a more complete listing of his works.

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