I finally finished The Unvanquished a week or so ago. Been so busy with my own writing and publishing, actually, mostly publishing, cause that’s what I am now, for all intents and purposes, ‘self-published.’ So, even a little one hundred and ninety page novel took me weeks. (Oh, did I say I have a job and a commute?) Anyway, The Unvanquished — I really enjoyed it! I’m lovin’ my current regimen of interspersing my readings of modern novels, literary and genre, with works from the literary canon. The Unvanquished wasn’t one of Faulkner’s most lauded works, but I think it may be his most approachable for new (to him) readers. It follows the story of young Bayard Sartoris and his friend and shadow, Ringo, as the army of the North burns its way through 1860’s Mississippi.

One of the amazing things about Faulkner’s writing is his ability to infuse readers with so much drama and information without them being aware of it, much like we are unaware of the air we breathe, or fish the water they swim in. What intrigues me still is what Faulkner left out of that book. Bayard tells us that he and Ringo were born the same month, fed at the same breast, (likely a black, slave wet-nurse), that they both called Bayard’s grandmother ‘Granny,’ but, more intriguingly, that both boys, white and black (half brothers, perhaps?), lived in the Sartoris home, slept in the same bed, and were loved by the elder Sartoris and Granny. In fact, Bayard acknowledges that Ringo was probably smarter than himself, and seems to feel badly that, that being fact, Ringo, because of his dark skin color, had to step aside on certain occasions and let Bayard take the lead.

The name that rode in and out of the campfire of my mind as I read this novel was Mark Twain. I don’t know much about Faulkner, but he must have studied Twain and his books. And like all good students, he goes beyond the teacher. And just as it is in Twain’s greatest work, slavery and the South are brought vividly to life in this tale, with real down-home Southern vernacular and, I have to mention, lots of use of the n-word. The book is set in the Civil War South, so the n-word is as ubiquitous there as it is, sadly, in many contemporary rap songs. It did bother me a little initially, but that’s the way that world was, and you cannot accurately recreate that world by sugar-coating its prejudices.

Probably not too many other writers could pull a reader along through three-quarter, and even full-page, blocks of narrative prose, without them throwing the book down and rushing back to their laptops to click through link after link like ten year olds popping Skittles into their mouths. Faulkner manages that, at least with this, albeit older, but tech-savvy reader. I don’t know how well today’s young adults would do with a book of this level. Probably only those blessed with a private school education could handle it, and that’s with a good teacher as a guide (this insight courtesy of seeing the movie, Waiting for Superman, a sad documentary about the state of our public schools).

Don’t want to give too much away, but after peeking at the little bio of Faulkner in the front of the book, Faulkner is probably recounting stories he heard as a child from folks who lived through the Civil War and Reconstruction (parents, grandparents), at least as young, attentive children. It has that ‘being there’ quality. Anyway, don’t want to keep you any longer either. So I say, send Big Publishing a message and forgo that new, over-priced vampire bodice-rip(off) mashup! Instead, get a cheap copy of The Unvanquished, find a comfortable quiet corner somewhere, turn off the cell, and be transported.