By William Faulkner
“Read, learn, learn. learn everything—trash, classics, reliable and undesirable, and spot how they do it. similar to a wood worker who works as an apprentice and reviews the grasp. learn! You’ll take up it. Then write. whether it is strong, you’ll discover. If it’s no longer, throw it out the window.” —William Faulkner
Absalom, Absalom! is Faulkner’s epic story of Thomas Sutpen, an enigmatic stranger who involves Jefferson, Mississippi, within the early 1830s to wrest his mansion out of the muddy bottoms of the north Mississippi barren region. He was once a guy, Faulkner stated, “who sought after sons and the sons destroyed him.”
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Extra info for Absalom, Absalom!
He carried her all the way back to the B and B where he was staying, and when he pushed open the door, he found the landlady sitting on a chair and waiting for him. “There you are,” the landlady said, relief in her voice. “I heard you leave, and I knew in my heart that something was wrong. Oh, you poor dears, you both look done in. ” She looked at Nicholas. “I took your dinner up earlier, but you didn’t answer my knock. ” Nicholas nodded at the woman, then followed her up the stairs, still carrying Dougless, but also managing to ignore her.
Nicholas set the woman down. Somehow, he did not know how, but he had made a fool of himself. Did this century allow a nobleman to be defamed? And what manner of weapon were the small black machines these people held before their faces? For that matter, what manner of little people were they who held the machines? He did not ask his questions, as questions seemed to annoy the witch-woman. “Madam, you are injured,” he said, and Dougless could tell by the way he stiffened that he was mortified that he’d injured her.
Nodding, Dougless blew her nose on a paper napkin. “And at the mercy of men who believe they’re from the sixteenth century, too. Oh, sorry,” she added. But Nicholas didn’t seem to hear her. He got up and began pacing the garden. There were four other tables but no other customers. “You but knelt by the tomb—my tomb—and asked for a . ” He looked at her. “A Knight in Shining Armor. It’s an American saying. All women want a gorgeous . . I mean, a . . ” “I didn’t call you,” she said fiercely. “It’s customary to cry when you get left in a church.