This great story by William Faulkner is just drenched with Southern flavor, entirely appropriate in this humid week of tropical weather with hurricane Hanna lurking down south, and maybe visiting us here in a few hours time. The story was first published in 1930.
(Biddie: please do NOT read Wikipedia article first; it'll spoil the surprise)
http://www.ariyam.com/docs/lit/wf_rose.html
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When I was a teen one of my teachers gave me an incredible book of short stories, unfortunately the book was lost somewhere in one of the moves but the stories live on in my memories.
This story was in the collection and I remember it well. I read that book over & over, and there was always something new to ponder from the stories, I wish I hadn't lost it.
Some other short stories that stuck with me from this book were "A Hunger Artist" by Franz Kafka, and "The Catbird Seat" by James Thurber. It's funny how some stories once read take up residence in your mind and bang around in there for years...yet I can't keep track of where I set my keys down five minutes prior.
Yes, your mind has a bin for Important Stuff and one for Trivia. Key location is in the latter and great literature is in the former.
You enjoy Kafka, Thurber, Faulkner...you really are an English major at hear, Cheryl. I wish you would go back to school and finish the degree that is a natural for you!
heart, not hear.
Thank you Priscilla - I wish that Cheryl would get herself back in school also!!!!!
I did as you suggested and read the story first before going to Wiki-P to read its analysis - great story - the caretaker had good reason to disappear !! But I disagree with Wiki-P's suggestion that she regularly slept with Homer - there was only stated evidence that she had done it just once, close to when she died ....
I'm still puzzling over how the rose fits in - certainly not a real rose but a metaphysical one.
Yes, the rose exists only in the title, as some have pointed out:
http://www.essays.cc/free_essays/c2/xaj166.shtml
but I think it could be a reference to an imaginary proper young beau (which she never had) saying as he handed her the flower, "A rose for Emily." (Yet I suppose he would have said "Miss Emily"). And you are right, it's left unclear how many times the grey head rested on the pillow. Perhaps just once.
I like the way the segments of time are all scrambled up. One finally gets a clear picture, though, of what happened when.
I think your suggested title for this story would be more fitting.
Strange, I didn't perceive the story as being told in jumbled time segments - maybe this is an indication of my mind's fragmentation that allowed me to be a relatively successful programmer - code is developed in segments that have nothing to do with the order that the code is eventually executed - you have to constantly fit them (in your mind's eye) into their right order to understand their functions even tho' you might be working out on some "stratospheric" piece of code.
I had to go back to reread the story and purposely look for this effect. Thanks for making me focus differently on the words.
Cheryl - can you remember the title of that book? I went out to Amazon looking for what might be the book you loved - I found several anthologies - too many, in fact - the ones I checked had combinations of the authors you mentioned but not the stories you mentioned.
Your mind is perfectly trained to appreciate Faulkner. Now try "As I Lay Dying", Miz Programmer.
Mom, ironically I don't remember the title of the book. Did you read "A Hunger Artist"?
Last night I was thinking about that story, I had written a passionate paper on it when I was in college and I suddenly realized there are distinct parallels I could draw between my life now & my interpretation of the story then. It stunned me.
If I'm brave enough, I'm going to dig up that old paper I wrote & pursue this train of thought further...it's not easy acknowledging your own fallibilities in an objective, analytical context.
Priscilla, I buried that literary side of myself so long ago to fit in to the life (through my own fault) I found myself living. I was enough of an anomaly here in town, and I quickly learned that my book reading ways was not keenly received.
I am quite rusty now, but I deeply appreciate your blog...like Dr. Frankenstein you have resurrected the literary beast in me :)
Dr. Frankenstein? Oh come now, there's a better analogy than that!
Cheryl, this may be your anthology:
http://www.amazon.com/Fiction-100-Anthology-Short-Stories/dp/0131825879
At least it contains the 3 stories you mentioned.
Priscilla, thank you for looking for it, I couldn't get your address to work but I will see what I can find by searching Amazon.com. It would be nice to read that old friend again :)
Did you copy and paste those two lines into your URL line?
It's the 1974 edition of Fiction 100, edited by Pickering. There have been many later editions, which may contain different selections of stories.
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