I finally finished the William Faulkner bio

         The book was written by Joseph Blotner, as I mentioned before. It was over 700-pages; it was a page turner, surprisingly.

          The subject, William Faulkner, was complex, moody and elusive; he seemed to believe that his work should stand on its own, without people invading his privacy. 

           The book was full of little nuggets of information: conversations he had with other famous people (which they later reported or remembered). Joan Crawford, Clark Gable, Ernest Hemingway, etc.

What he told Robert Oppenheimer on the subject of the emerging medium of popular TV cannot be repeated in today's world.

            Speaking of TV, at one point the author revealed that Faulkner only valued TV for horse races, occasional sports events and one favorite situation comedy series he enjoyed.  We were left hanging for a few hundred pages, wondering which show he liked. I thought and thought.      Finally, the reveal: William Faulkner enjoyed a silly show called "Car 54, Where are You?"  

            What would William Faulkner make of the sad circumstances the country is in now? Of course, he wouldn't be happy. But by the time he passed away, he was ready to go. He was beyond caring what would happen to the rest of us.  By now, his daughter has gone, also. He has grandchildren still living. 

            He wrote about and was disturbed by the unequal treatment of Blacks by our legal systems. In his day, there were no Federal Civil Rights laws, so inequality could vary wildly, depending on where you were. His views made him rather unwelcome in his home state of Mississippi. Read "Pantaloon in Black", as an example of his  ability to relate the story of a Mississippi tragedy that will burn your soul---in his usual poetic prose, smoothly veiled but unmistakably pointed toward his message.

            Safe to say, he would be horrified by the rioting, looting and random murders. 

            As I proceed to read his novels and stories, I am comforted by an understanding of his tortured life, always worried about money, unable to fight his alcoholism consistently; yet able to produce some 19 novels and countless stories. A real body of work.  He died from the effects of several severe falls from his horse, over the course of the last year of his life. He had internal injuries which were not addressed--maybe could not be at that time. And his back bones were all chipped and cracks. He was racked with pain.