Anthology

Collected Stories of William Faulkner

Collected Stories of William Faulkner

William Faulkner

Language: English

Pages: 912

ISBN: 0679764038

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


“I’m a failed poet. Maybe every novelist wants to write poetry first, finds he can’t and then tries the short story which is the most demanding form after poetry. And failing that, only then does he take up novel writing.” —William Faulkner
 
Winner of the National Book Award

Forty-two stories make up this magisterial collection by the writer who stands at the pinnacle of modern American fiction. Compressing an epic expanse of vision into hard and wounding narratives, Faulkner’s stories evoke the intimate textures of place, the deep strata of history and legend, and all the fear, brutality, and tenderness of the human condition. These tales are set not only in Yoknapatawpha County, but in Beverly Hills and in France during World War I. They are populated by such characters as the Faulknerian archetypes Flem Snopes and Quentin Compson, as well as by ordinary men and women who emerge so sharply and indelibly in these pages that they dwarf the protagonists of most novels.

Weird Detectives: Recent Investigations

The Invention of Morel and Other Stories

The Penguin Book of Modern British Short Stories

The Inhuman Condition (Books of Blood, Book 4)

The Martian Megapack: 11 Classic Novels and Short Stories

Blood Ties (Thieves' World, Book 9)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

said. “You and Craw-ford (my pappy’s name was Crawfish-ford, but usually it was Craw-ford) can divide them.” “I don’t want them,” Herman Basket said that pappy said. “Then Herman can have them all,” Doom said. “I don’t want them either,” Herman Basket said. “All right,” Doom said. Then Herman Basket said he asked Doom if his name was still David Callicoat, but instead of answering, Doom told one of the black people something in the white man’s talk, and the black man lit a pine knot. Then

that their helmets are flat. But likely there is no one to see, because when a party mounted to the second story and found the captain propped in the window beside the cold gun, they thought that he was dead. This time Matthew Gray saw the citation. Someone clipped it from the Gazette and sent it to him, and he sent it in turn to his son in the hospital, with a letter: … Since you must go to a war we are glad that you are doing well in it. Your mother thinks that you have done your part and

Mrs. Zilich in New York. It cost eleven dollars. I told her that Danny was in a little trouble, not serious, and for her to not tell Sister it was serious trouble, to just tell her that we would need some money. Because I had sent money for Danny to come to Florida on and I had paid the three months for the room and I had just paid the premium on my insurance, and so the lawyer looked at Danny and Danny sitting there on the cot in the cell without no collar on and Danny said, ‘Where would I get

it wasn’t Will Mayes,” a barber said. He was a man of middle age; a thin, sand-colored man with a mild face, who was shaving a client. “I know Will Mayes. He’s a good nigger. And I know Miss Minnie Cooper, too.” “What do you know about her?” a second barber said. “Who is she?” the client said. “A young girl?” “No,” the barber said. “She’s about forty, I reckon. She aint married. That’s why I dont believe—” “Believe, hell!” a hulking youth in a sweat-stained silk shirt said. “Wont you take a

up on the front of it and his celluloid collar freshly washed and no tie in it and his nose peeling with sunburn and his eyes bright behind his glasses. I would have gone with him anywhere; I would do it over again right now, knowing what was going to happen. He would not have to ask me now any more than he did then. So I got on top of the tent and we didn’t go toward town, we went the other way. I asked where we were going but he just said wait, rushing the little car along like he couldn’t get

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