William Faulkner - Dry September - Literature review Example

William Faulkner: Dry September

William Faulkner's short story Dry September was written in 1930. It was later published as part of his Collected Stories (1950), which won the National Book Award. Dry September tells the story of a black man, Will Mayes, who is lynched as a result of the unsubstantiated rumor that he has "attacked, insulted, frightened" (517) the middle-aged, unmarried Miss Minnie Cooper. Faulkner establishes subtle discord in the dialectic imagery that pervades the story. The most obvious image, which is initially present in the title, is that of oppressive heat, dryness, and dustiness, which, as critic Howard Faulkner observes, is indicative of "the spiritual drought of the community, which is eager to believe the worst about one of their previously accepted blacks" (117).

Even Miss Minnie is "dry"—she has reached middle age, the September of her life, and is probably unable to conceive. However, this depiction is relieved by the description of the "bloody September twilight" (517) that punctuates the two-month drought and the "twice-waxed moon" that appears ready to burst until its "wan hemorrhage" increases (522-23). Faulkner subtly establishes a connection between Miss Minnie and Will by associating the moon with blood, the only reference to moisture in relation to setting throughout the story: the town thirsts for the shedding of Will's blood to avenge Miss Minnie's "violation." On another metaphorical level, the moon is representative of the feminine, specifically Miss Minnie. It is "twice-waxed," which suggests an unusual fullness.

The association of blood with the abundance of the moon implies youth and sexuality— connections with a woman's menstrual cycle, the loss of virginity, and even pregnancy and birth are all plausible. Yet its "twice-waxed" appearance is a peculiarity in such dry, sparse surroundings, and if we are tempted to associate Miss Minnie with this moon, then one wonders what a middle-aged spinster has in common with such images of fertility. Regarding Miss Minnie, a client in the barbershop remarks that "This ain't the first man scare she ever had, like Hawkshaw says. Wasn't there something about a man on the kitchen roof, watching her undress, about a year ago?" (519).

It is difficult to ignore the sense of dubiety that pervades the story, from the uncertainty of the light to the ambiguity that surrounds Miss Minnie's accusations. Her allegation is described as "the rumor, the story, whatever it was. Something about Miss Minnie Cooper and a Negro...none of them...knew exactly what had happened" (517). The only fact firmly established by the men about Miss Minnie is that she "ain't married" (517); even though it is also immediately asserted by the barber that Will is "a good nigger," it is easier for the town to "take a white woman's word before a nigger's" (517). Even though Miss Minnie's accusations are initially formless, they turn into a hypothetical truth once the racist seed has been planted, and the dialectic of "white versus black" becomes dominant. It is assumptions like these, instead of fact, that motivate the townsmen to vindicate Miss Minnie's honor.

One major incongruity lies in Miss Minnie Cooper's name. The title the males of the town address her by, "Miss," is deceptive—it is traditionally reserved for an unmarried female or a virgin. However, we are told by the narrator that "the town began to see her driving on Sunday afternoons with the cashier in the bank" (521). The townsmen must have known the cashier, for presumably (from the description we are provided with), he frequented two exclusively male establishments—the barbershop and the bar. Furthermore, he "owned the first automobile in town, a red runabout" (521). It would be difficult to ignore the first automobile in town, much less a red one. Yet only the men of the town utilize the title "Miss" when referring to her. We are then informed that it has been "twelve years now since she had been relegated into adultery by public opinion" (521).

However, the cashier was a widower—therefore, her relationship with him could not have been adulterous. If she had indeed consummated a sexual relationship with the cashier, she might have been considered other things, but she could not have been considered an adulteress. The case for Faulkner's subversive sympathy with Will is strengthened as he underscores the men's ignorance each time he has them address Minnie as "Miss." One certainty does exist in "Dry September": that of the town's definite patriarchal structure. The men are gathered in a barbershop, an exclusively male environment in which (like its counterpart, the beauty salon) gossip thrives.

The initial aggressor is "a hulking youth" (517) named Butch, whose hostile, exclamatory statements immediately condemn Will. He immediately takes possession of Miss Minnie's welfare: "Damn if I'm going to let a white woman—"(518, italics mine). His statement indicates his perceived burden of responsibility—as a white man in the Southern community, he is obligated to safeguard every aspect of it. However, this is an ironically childish initiation rite— Butch must displace another man by killing him in order to establish his own place in the community. Because Butch feels compelled to act based upon an unsubstantiated rumor, his participation in the lynching suggests that he harbors an irrational fear of Will's (or any black man's) sexual superiority, and on a larger level, his superiority as a male. The name "Butch" is ironic—by describing his impulsive, thoughtless rationale, Faulkner has shown us that Butch is really a child in a nineteen year-old's body. Interestingly, one of Butch's strongest supporters is "a drummer and a stranger" (518), probably an itinerant salesman.

It is significant that Will's murder party consists of some of these men, who know so little about the situation. The drummer's allegiance with Butch underscores his own ignorance—not only does he appear as childish as Butch, he also has a strong opinion of something he knows nothing about. Yet the drummer claims to have a familial relationship with the women of this town; he is furious that "our mothers and wives and sisters" (519) are potential victims of the same fate that supposedly befell Miss Minnie.

Faulkner subtly introduces the implication of genealogical relationships such as this throughout Dry September in order to encourage the reader to infer what cannot be stated. It is clear that these men, including strangers, claim all white women as their own. Furthermore, Faulkner implies at the end of the story that all black women are theirs as well. Because of his association with this community's townsmen, it appears that the drummer feels the same way—if this is the case, then perhaps Faulkner is pointing out that many whites were somewhat hypocritical in their anti-slavery crusade, no matter where they were from, and were just as guilty of such crimes as miscegenation as these townspeople were.

John McLendon, who quickly assumes the position of leader, is also seemingly representative of masculinity; he enters the barbershop like a caricature of the justice-seeking cowboy entering the saloon for a showdown. His assertive stance and "hot, bold glance" immediately commands the attention of the group; he is its undisputed leader, because he has both the requisite military background and the ability to incite the others to act: "'Well,' he said, 'are you going to sit there and let a black son rape a white woman on the streets of Jefferson?'" (518). Under his expectant gaze, the others, even though they are uncertain of Will's guilt, "sat uncomfortable, not looking at one another, then one by one they rose and joined him" (519). Being associated with a strong Southern male such as McLendon ensures that the others will be perceived as men, too. Howard Faulkner characterizes the leader as a "brutal and stupid" individual who can "overcome whatever voices of reason there are simply by the force of his character and his intimidation of the weaker members" (108).

Indeed, when a member of the group asks in response to McLenson's call to action if Miss Minnie was really raped, he quickly barks, '"What the hell difference does it make? Are you going to let the black sons get away with it until one really does itV" (519). Butch responds positively to this rationale, and then "curses, long and steady, pointless" (519). In their minds, because the potential threat is there, the crime has been committed, even if not against Miss Minnie. The mere suggestion of their territory being claimed by a black man is enough to inspire fear and hatred in men who desire control as much as McLendon and his young apprentice do. However, McLendon's control and strength are questionable—they are illusions, just like Miss Minnie's innocence. He is confronted with the same irrational threat as Butch, and he reacts in much the same manner.

By portraying them similarly, Faulkner implies that McLendon operates on Butch's intelligence level. Like the dust and the heat that pervades the town, rationale stagnates when these men are threatened with mere hearsay. McLendon and the others who actively participate in Will's lynching are cast in an unflattering light once Faulkner prods us to examine their reasoning more closely. Their behavior, and the reasoning that motivates it, also implicitly suggests that Faulkner is subversively sympathizing with Will's plight. Before McLendon arrives, one of the barbers, Hawkshaw, implores the others to "Find out the truth first" (518).

According to Howard Faulkner, Hawkshaw is representative of the "adversarial point of view, someone who counsels patience and advocates letting the law run its course" (108). Hawkshaw is described as "a thin, sand-colored man" (517). Then, as the men in the barbershop discover where each other's sympathies lie, one says to Hawkshaw, '"You're a fine white man.. .Aint you?'" Later, as McLendon and Hawkshaw gaze into each other's face after Hawkshaw reiterates the need to obtain factual evidence, the narrator observes that "They looked like men of different races" (519).

Again, Faulkner has introduced the possibility of a taboo genealogical relationship here. It is possible that Hawkshaw is perceived as black because of his sympathy with Will. Because of his unpopular point of view, his race is questioned by the others—because he is a "niggerlover," he must be black as well. However, he could also be the product of miscegenation. Faulkner describes him ambiguously enough for this to be the case, and he even allows another character to question Hawkshaw's race, implying that every man in the barbershop knows what cannot be said: that all women, even in the post-Civil War era, whether white or black, are the property of white males. It is ironic that the other men call Hawkshaw a niggerlover"—since miscegenation occurred at the time, and is implied in this story, they would all be "niggerlovers."

As one of the drummers attempts to become more involved in the crusade against Will, Hawkshaw, who has been shaving him, holds him down with the razor poised above his neck. The narrator describes this action twice, and its presence is doubly significant- It is first a subtle reversal of the castration rite that often accompanied a lynching that took place as the result of a rape, whether real or imagined. The "niggerlover" who will eventually be perceived as a white "nigger" holds his knife above the head and neck of the bigoted client, urging him to "find out the facts first" (519). The fact that Hawkshaw is holding a razor above the client's neck also adds further ambiguity concerning his race. Hawkshaw's razor, the choice of weapon for "Negroes" as implied in the anecdote above, stands in marked contrast to the pistol that McLendon brandishes with braggadocio.

Hawkshaw is the most enlightened in the barbershop, yet Faulkner ambiguously portrays bis race. If Faulkner the artist was a racist, then why does he portray Hawkshaw as the most intelligent one in the shop? It is highly dubious that a racist would cast Hawkshaw, a man of uncertain racial origin, in this flattering a light. Even though his actions do not appear to do so, his statements reflect his radical and potentially dangerous point of view: '"I know Will Mayes. He's a good nigger. And I know Miss Minnie Cooper, too'" (517). Even in the words themselves, Hawkshaw privileges Will over Miss Minnie. Faulkner draws Hawkshaw ambiguously in order to suggest that a white man could indeed transcend racial barriers in the South, and by doing so, he reinforces Hawkshaw's moral superiority. Even though Hawkshaw is unable to alter the course of events, his superior character and progressive sentiments stand out in sharp relief to the others' questionable rationale.

Indeed, Hawkshaw does appear cowardly when he jumps out of the moving car that contains Will, especially after defending him so staunchly earlier in the barbershop. However, a closer look reveals that Will also attempts to escape the confines of the vehicle (524), suggesting a thematic resemblance between the two men. Furthermore, what other option does he have? He cannot physically confront the other men—not only would he be outnumbered, he would also risk death. As he runs after McLendon and the rest of the mob earlier, a barber watching him murmurs "I’d just as lief be Will Mayes as Hawk, if he gets McLendon riled'" (520).

Because he cannot physically stop the situation, he removes himself morally from it by jumping from the moving vehicle. He cannot save Will's life at this point; however, he has altered his own dramatically by refusing to participate in Will's murder. Hawkshaw must realize to some extent what repercussions fleeing from the situation will have. By jumping from the car, Hawkshaw undeniably becomes the "niggerlover" he is branded at the beginning of the story. Consequently, he will be socially cast out, for he is now the white "nigger" the others accused him of being from the start. The jump from the car, then, is a brave, albeit implicit, moral statement.

In the barbershop, McLendon asks the others if they will allow "a black son" to get away with the alleged rape against Miss Minnie. Later, as they capture Will, a voice whispers in the darkness "Kill him, kill the son" (523). It can be contended that "son" is a euphemistic, shortened version of the phrase "son of a bitch." However, the expression "son of a bitch" was acceptable in print in the 1930s, and Faulkner would not have had a reason to be concerned about censorship issues. Furthermore, utilizing a shortened form of the expression seems out of character and out of context. The lynch mob is composed of men who appear to be irrational—it is highly unlikely that they are concerned about etiquette at this point. (H. Faulkner)

Faulkner also does not make use of the more common "boy" to refer to Will or any other black man throughout Dry September. Therefore, the repeated use of the word "son" to refer to Will and other black men is semantically significant in a number of ways. Its first appearance in McLendon's statement is revealing—in response to a client who asks, "Did it really happen?" McLendon angrily responds with curious logic: "Happen? What the hell difference does it make? Are you going to let the black sons get away with it until one really does it?" (519). In this statement, McLendon implicitly agrees that the rape was probably fabricated; however, if Will (or any black man) is vindicated, then the greater the potential for the occurrence of a real rape. During Will's capture, the insistent whisper "Kill him, kill the son" (523)

Faulkner devotes two of the five sections of the short story exclusively to Miss Minnie Cooper; after all, it is because of her that the action occurs. Miss Minnie attempts to redirect her sexuality, but she succeeds only temporarily. As if hinting at her failure to permanently and positively alter her existence, Faulkner surrounds her with images of resounding emptiness and decay; she is taking care of her mother and "a thin, sallow, unflagging aunt" (520): she is all angles with no promise of softness. The title and final images in the story indicate that she is unable to permanently alter her existence. Miss Minnie is a construct of the town in which she lives; however, she wishes to escape its control over her. She attempts to reshape the town's image of her when she "asks her old schoolmates that their children call her 'cousin' instead of 'aunty'" (521). She is trapped, at this late age, in a strange existence, forced simultaneously into the roles of virgin and spinster; she is, however, "the last to realize that she is losing ground" (520).

With her aunt running the household and her sick mother bedridden, a strong female figure is conspicuously absent in Miss Minnie's life; such a situation encourages her to rely upon herself for survival, but it also encourages the town to become a surrogate father and protector. She attempts to procure the attentions of a man; yet her potential as a bride has "a quality of furious unreality" (521). She is cognizant of the fact that "the sitting and lounging men do not even follow her with their eyes any more" (522), regardless of her efforts to make them do so. She attempts, therefore, to claim ownership of herself, to fill the void. Realizing that her moment in the spotlight has faded, she resorts to an unusual method: she regains the town's attentions with accusations against a Negro.

Miss Minnie has been regarded as "tainted" by the town until her allegations surface; the narrator tells us that "It was twelve years now since she had been relegated into adultery by public opinion" (521) as a result of her affair with the widowed cashier. Because of her "adulterous" affair and her age, no man in the town is interested in pursuing her. However, as a result of the supposed rape, she is suddenly perceived as the lily-white virgin who was violated by the black beast; furthermore, she becomes sexually desirable. As she traverses the square and passes the drugstore after Will has been killed, "even the young men lounging in the doorway tipped their hats and followed with their eyes the motion of her hips and legs when she passed" (526).

Miss Minnie is now presumably "stained" as a result of being raped by a black man; hence, she should be undesirable to white males. However, the male characters' fascination with her suggests that Faulkner is questioning and revising the stereotype of the "tainted," violated white woman. At any rate, the men's interest in Miss Minnie after the supposed rape strangely reinforces the white male fear of the mythological sexual superiority of the black male. Initially, the town irrationally deems Minnie an "adulteress," but their behavior appears even more irrational when they find a sullied, violated woman as sexually attractive as she suddenly seems to be.

Even though she has not fulfilled typical roles as those around her have, Miss Minnie is quite aware of the power of her status as a Southern woman in the town, and she utilizes it to reshape her existence. Her accusations serve the purpose of momentarily reaffirming her existence as a sexual being, for the sexually potent black male desires her. She has also been reclaimed by the town as a woman who needs protection; her accusations underscore her helplessness. Even though the townspeople are quite aware that Miss Minnie has made similar accusations in the past, they ignore this fact. Instead, they passively encourage her behavior, as she walks amongst them, "the suddenly ceased voices" are "deferent, protective" (526).

Because she is probably aware that her accusations will follow certain thought patterns in the community mindset, and because they do, Miss Minnie has temporarily succeeded in controlling the progression of time. She has also proven herself capable of governing an otherwise futile reality. The force and resolve of the community's patriarchal instincts stand in sharp contrast to Miss Minnie's fragility; the males of the town, in their consolidated need to protect her, have collectively become a father and on some levels, a lover to her. Thus, her allegations allow her to reestablish her femininity (albeit in a negative way). Any previous complaints she may have registered of a similar nature are trivial; like a protective parent, the townsmen overlook such concerns quickly in their single-minded desire to right any wrongs immediately.

Ironically, they are not as fully focused upon her as she believes them to be; they are quick to retaliate primary to reassert their own male potency.Miss Minnie dresses for Saturday evening supper like a bride preparing for her wedding night: "she donned her sheerest underthings and stockings and a new voile dress" (525). She is fully aware of, and alive with, her own sexuality: "her own flesh felt like fever. Her hands trembled.. .and her eyes had a feverish look, and her hair swirled crisp and crackling under the comb" (525).

The men's sudden interest in Miss Minnie suggest that they derive psychological potency from her by identifying themselves with the assumed "virile black man" who "raped" her. Furthermore, the allusions to surreptitious sexuality throughout the story, from Miss Minnie's sheer underclothes to the townspeople's avid interest in her "violation," suggest that not only are both sexes intrigued by the myth of black male sexuality, but that they also perpetuate the vicious cycle. The women wonder to each other: '"Do you suppose anything really happened?' their eyes darkly aglitter, secret and passionate" (527).

At midnight, when McLendon arrives home to his waiting wife, he becomes angry: '"Haven't I told you about sitting up like this, waiting to see when I come in?'...She stood passive, looking at him" (527). McLendon has been out late before, and judging from his reaction to his wife and his wife's behavior, we are forced to ask where he has been. His actions imply that he is trying to hide something from his wife; even though his habitual tardiness could be explained in many ways, it is possible that he has killed other black "sons" in the past. It is also a very real possibility that he has been with a black woman.

Miss Minnie has momentarily transcended the "furious unreality" of her daily existence to step into the "miniature fairyland" of the picture show she has created; in her efforts to control the community's perceptions of her, she becomes one of the "colored lithographs of life caught in its terrible and beautiful mutations" (526). Life, as played out on the silver screen, is "beautiful and passionate and sad"; like the consummate actress, Miss Minnie has molded her existence to temporarily echo this image. On the stage of this town, racial fantasy has been substituted for racial reality, and white desire for the segregated and demonized black "Other" can be played out within the safe confines of the patriarchy. However, it is only a matter of time before the show ends. Forcing the fantastic into the realm of reality is dangerous, for the light of day exposes all pretenses. For the time being, however, she has earmarked the blank page and is barely unable to hold back the giddiness of having "pulled one over" on the others.

The lynching has provided a vehicle for McLendon to temporarily reclaim his masculinity; he is thrust into a role that formerly brought him military glory when he becomes the leader once again. It has also allowed Miss Minnie to temporarily reclaim her attractiveness. However, they have utilized props suggesting youth and military glory (Miss Minnie's clothing; McLendon's pistol) to encourage others to perceive them as they want to be perceived; these trappings are easily shed at the end of the day, and both are violently thrust back into their former futile existences. Miss Minnie realizes that her attempts to subvert the patriarchy by turning it upon itself have not fully succeeded. Her friends administer ice to her, assuming that the ever-present heat and the circumstances have overcome her.

However, the ice only serves as a reminder of Will, the former night watchman at an ice plant. As long as the ice remains cold (metaphorically signifying Will's dead body and, on another level, the townspeople's acceptance of her tale), Miss Minnie remains relatively calm; however, as it warms, "the laughing welled again and her voice rose screaming" (526). Her celluloid fantasy has finally crumbled—crazed with guilt, Miss Minnie's howl is a recognition of, and a protest against, the reality that now surrounds her.

The last image in the story is similar to the first: McLendon is drenched in perspiration, surrounded by the relentless heat: "he stood panting. There was no movement, no sound, not even an insect. The dark world seemed to lie stricken beneath the cold moon and the lidless stars" (527). Her friends have removed Miss Minnie's clothing, and McLendon angrily strews his clothing about the house; both are naked in the stifling heat. In spite of this, both characters struggle to breathe; metaphorically, the present state of affairs in the town thwarts breath, understanding, growth. Both characters' unorthodox behaviors at the close of the tale suggest that they both subconsciously realize how futile their actions have been as Will's presence inhabits the stasis surrounding them, oppressing them.

Faulkner utilizes members of his own race to expose the irrational rationale that prevails throughout Dry September. Is this the trademark of a writer who is caught in the chasm between reality and poetry? It is highly unlikely. In spite of statements Faulkner made during his lifetime that may have reflected his conflicting personal feelings concerning race, the fictive space that abounds with silences speaks volumes. It is evident throughout Dry September that Faulkner the artist is able to transcend his place and time by subversively sympathizing with Will Mayes.