Unclear Sentiments about TSAF [#1]

A Note: I wanted to focus on the impressions I made of Caroline and Caddy in Benjy’s section. I realize that there’s more to Caddy in Quentin’s section.

There were several components about The Sound and the Fury that stuck out to me, even as I remain unclear about how to process them. Readers are first introduced to Caroline Compson [Mother] on page 5, when she’s  protesting Benjy going outside on account of it “being too cold” but preferring that he “go to the kitchen” rather than stay near her. Uncle Maury’s persuasive skills convince Caroline that it’s in her best interests to let him go, since worrying over him will make her sick, to which she responds [as she frequently does], “I know…it’s a judgement on me.” I can’t help but be mostly annoyed with Caroline’s martyr-like tone, especially as she worries about her impeding departure, almost as if she wants everyone around her to both pity her and pay attention to her.

I was comparing Caroline to her stubborn and haughty daughter, Caddy, and thought of how different Faulkner created them. As Faulkner himself wrote, he had a certain kind of joy, as one “approached women, perhaps with the same secretly unscrupulous intentions” [Faulkner on TSAF, top 226]. I was wondering if Faulkner’s secretly unscrupulous intention was to demonstrate the fragility of women [Caroline] as well as the indecorous sexuality of women [Caddy]. I get the impression that Caroline was painfully aware of her maudlin-like anxieties, such as when she said, “nobody knows how I dread Christmas. Nobody knows. I am not one of those women who can stand things. I wish for Jason’s and the children’s sake I was stronger” [TSAF, 8]. Perhaps I am determined to dislike Caroline, but I read her words as something she was almost proud of. I read “I am not one of those women who can stand things” as though ‘those women’ ought to be ashamed of their strength or resilience, as though whatever things ‘those women’ could stand were not things proper ladies should bear. Since Caroline also kept mentioning she was sick and other people, such as Dilsey and uncle Maury echoed her claims, I wondered if she was actually sick, or if people had long ago learned to humor her. Furthermore, I thought of Caroline as a mother; although she made frequent displays of concern for Benjy’s well-being, such as not wanting him to go out and play in the cold because he would get sick, she did not want to be near him. While Caddy called him Benjy, Caroline insisted on calling her son by his newly-given name, Benjamin, which seemed to stress a formal kind of relationship. Then there were times when Caroline would refer to Benjamin not by his name, but as “that baby” [TSAF,8] right in front of him. I understand he’s deaf, but it seemed  cruel, which got me wondering if being a kind mother to a disabled child was one of those things Caroline could not stand.

I think if Caroline thought she embodied what was was proper, then Caddy’s outrageous behavior was Faulkner’s mischievous way of playing with the norms of ‘proper Southern girls.’ Caddy is boisterous, commanding [Benjy mostly obeys her ‘hush’ orders], defiant, foolish [threatens to run away], reckless [apparently having had rendezvous’ with Charlie], and messy [ her muddy drawers and wet dresses]. ‘Good girls’ do not muddy their drawers and they most certainly do not climb trees that give the boys on the ground a view [even if those boys happen to be your brothers]. Though there is something inspiring about Caddy’s rebellious nature mixed with her tender affection for Benjy, I can’t help but think things won’t end well for her, like the world will either quell her defiance or permanently subdue her, but I want to find out. As Faulkner stated in his introduction, “Art is no part of Southern life…[for art] to become visible [in the South], must become a ceremony” [Faulkner on TSAF, bottom 228]. Are the polarities between Caddy and Caroline the ceremony? Are their exaggerations the art?

Jason

Jason Compson lives a bitter, isolated existence in each and every sphere of his life, be it work, family or pleasure. As he progresses from his position as the youngest and least powerful Compson child to the symbolic head of the family’s household, Jason develops a massive superiority complex. For while he comes to be the partial breadwinner of the family, other characters, like Dilsey, still maintain a more practical authority over how the house is run. The early alienation he experiences from his family combined with the over-flated sense of pride his mother reserves for the two of them, who are “more Bascomb than Compson” at heart, leaves Jason with a dangerous sense of unfulfilled deserving (103). Moreover, just as he feels that he has been perpetually and disproportionately slighted, he also believes the converse: that others have been given unwarranted advantage.

From an early age, Jason comes to resent his father and his older siblings, who have formed an unspoken alliance from which he is excluded. Growing up, he is constantly targeted by his siblings, and receives little defense from his father, Jason Sr.. During Damuddy’s funeral, for example, Caddy calls Jason a “[c]ry baby” and specifically targets him with the temporary authority Jason Sr. has granted her for the evening, despite Jason’s opposition (26). When Jason attempts to stand up for himself and the others, Caddy retorts: “They will [mind me] if I say so…Maybe I wont say for them to,” taunting him with the implication that she could choose to exercise her authority over Jason solely, while letting the others retain their relative autonomy (33). And when the family’s financial struggles prevent him from receiving the same opportunities that were granted Caddy and Quentin before him, Jason’s resentment takes on an aspect of cynicism: “I believed folks when they said they’d do things, I’ve learned better since” (206). Moreover, he allows his cynical outlook to justify his own lying and scheming; because he was cheated out of what was rightfully owed to him, it is acceptable, in turn, for him to steal and manipulate from those around him.

As a grown man he constantly speaks ill of his deceased father and brother and openly disrespects all other living members of the house, even his mother, Caroline, the one character in the novel who loves him unconditionally. Jason and Caroline’s relationship is characterized by a complex love-hate dynamic: Caroline smothers Jason with undying praise and adoration, fueling his pride and consequently, his lack of respect for others, including her. Indeed, his superiority complex is so extreme that it manifests itself as utter contempt for the people he interacts with day to day: his family, his servants, his boss, and any townsfolk unlucky enough to be sharing the sidewalk with him at the same time.

Jason’s hatred is so complete that he tends to project essentialist (most often racist and sexist) qualities onto other individuals or groups of people, i.e. “Once a bitch, always a bitch” and “I never found a nigger yet that didn’t have an airtight alibi for whatever he did” (180, 218). He is too narrow-minded to be sympathetic towards others’ societal predicaments, so he ends up holding the oppressed responsible for their oppressions. Indeed, Jason’s pride is so great that he finds endless faults in others, but none in himself; any self-criticism is really just a disguise for self-glorification. Jason is the kind of person whose remorse for his own actions stems only from his disdain for others (Others), and hence, he won’t pass up an opportunity to make vicious, underhanded attacks: “You’re a nigger. You’re lucky, do you know it? I says I’ll swap with you any day because it takes a white man not to have anymore sense than to worry about what a little slut of a girl does” (243). He plays off his vengeful desire to dominate Quentin as concern, while simultaneously upholding racist and sexist ideologies, and trivializing the experiences of those affected by their institutions.