Posts Tagged: William Faulkner

On Faulkner and Cocktails

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There are two Faulkners, and each of these Faulkners is embodied by one of the author’s two favorite drinks, as Robert Moor posits in a recent Paris Review article.


The julep is High Faulknerian. Taking in the dense, lush language in his most lauded works—As I Lay Dying, The Sound and the Fury, and Absalom, Absalom!…But the other Faulkner, the one who stayed down south, exemplified by the Snopes trilogy and Sanctuary and Light in August, is more like a cold toddy: light, citrusy, superficially graceful, yet deceptively complex.

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Emily Dickinson: Karaoke Queen?

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For Bookish, music writer and self-described “karaoke ho” Rob Sheffield lists which songs famous authors of the past would have belted out on karaoke night.

He’s unquestionably right about Oscar Wilde crooning something from The Smiths, though it seems a missed opportunity not to have given James Joyce “Baby Got Back.”

Which tunes do you think your favorite writers would have favored?

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The Wishing Tree

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Maria Popova of Brain Pickings got her hands on a copy of William Faulkner’s only children’s book, written for his stepdaughter (and a few other children in his life) and published in a print run of 500.

With words like “choss” and “youall,” it may not be the best way to teach kids new vocabulary, but if the beautiful description of waking up doesn’t instill a lifelong desire to read, nothing will.

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Multicolored The Sound and the Fury Finally Published

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When William Faulkner originally published The Sound and the Fury, he wished Benjy’s narrative could be printed in different colors to denote different time periods, lamenting that “I’ll just have to save the idea until publishing grows up.”

Now it has: The Folio Society is publishing an edition of the novel colored as Faulkner envisioned it.

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Robot Horses Waging War on Angels: A Profile of Chris Eaton

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There are bodies, and there are words. The bodies shift sides and see their components replaced; they look in mirrors and see themselves made horrific, the mechanical overtaking the organic, and they ask themselves whether they can still feel, still love.

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