![]() ![]() Faulkner does this by having each chapter notionally narrated by a different character Woolf by allowing the omniscient third-person narrative swoop in and out of the minds of different family members or friends. The author gets us deep inside the consciousness of different characters, giving us their often highly idiosyncratic points of view. The setting could not be more different – a farmstead that barely supports a family of dirt-poor Southerners as opposed to the holiday home of an English middle class academic and his family during a vacation with friends – but some things are almost identical. I’ve read other Modernist novels of this era, and the one I’m reminded of most strongly is Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse (1927, three years before this one). I read the first 70-odd pages, stopped, and immediately read them all again. And these things would convey nothing of the intense and disorientating experience of reading it. A thumbnail sketch of each character might be given in a sentence. ![]() The plot, or rather the events of a few days in July, might be summarised in a paragraph. Whenever you think you might know where you are with it, you realise you don’t. ![]() ![]() The first third – to where the coffin is in the wagon ![]()
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