The Drunkard And the Anti-Christ
I don't remember the source anymore, but as the story goes, this guy of ours won a major award, and then disappeared for the next few days. Why? To continue with his work? No, of course not! But to get drunk with his sailor friends.
And yet a few weeks later, this guy delivered one of the best (and briefest) speeches ever while accepting the award. And this was possible, because he was William Faulkner! He was a man, remembered both as an eccentric gentleman and an arrogant, snobbish alcoholic. And this was the same man who, in typical Faulkner fashion, sent his friends into a frenzy by refusing to attend the Nobel Prize ceremony.
And yet a few weeks later, this guy delivered one of the best (and briefest) speeches ever while accepting the award. And this was possible, because he was William Faulkner! He was a man, remembered both as an eccentric gentleman and an arrogant, snobbish alcoholic. And this was the same man who, in typical Faulkner fashion, sent his friends into a frenzy by refusing to attend the Nobel Prize ceremony.
At any rate, Faulkner had a colorful personality. Too short to join the U.S. Air force, he joined the Canadian Royal Flying Corps during the world War I ,but never actually had to fight. "...the day he graduated from the Flying Corps the Armistice was signed. The only "war injury" he received was the result of getting drunk and partying too hard on Armistice Day, wherein he injured his leg."
Now let me quote Faulkner extensively, because these are excellent words:
On Writer's responsibily:
"The writer's only responsibility is to his art. He will be completely ruthless if he is a good one. He has a dream. It anguishes him so much he must get rid of it. He has no peace until then. Everything goes by the board: honor, pride, decency, security, happiness, all, to get the book written. If a writer has to rob his mother, he will not hesitate; the "Ode on a Grecian Urn" is worth any number of old ladies." (from Writers at Work: The Paris Review Interviews, 1959)
On Reading and Writing:
"Read, read, read. Read everything - trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You'll absorb it. Then write. If it is good, you'll find out. If it's not, throw it out the window."
On Critics:
"The artist doesn't have time to listen to the critics. The ones who want to be writers read the reviews, the ones who want to write don't have the time to read reviews."
On Art and Artist:
"The artist is of no importance. Only what he creates is important, since there is nothing new to be said. Shakespeare, Balzac, Homer have all written about the same things, and if they had lived one thousand or two thousand years longer, the publishers wouldn't have needed anyone since."
On Racism:
"To live anywhere in the world today and be against equality because of race or color is like living in Alaska and being against snow."
On Conscience:
"A man's moral conscience is the curse he had to accept from the gods in order to gain from them the right to dream."
On Art and Artist:
"The artist is of no importance. Only what he creates is important, since there is nothing new to be said. Shakespeare, Balzac, Homer have all written about the same things, and if they had lived one thousand or two thousand years longer, the publishers wouldn't have needed anyone since."
On Racism:
"To live anywhere in the world today and be against equality because of race or color is like living in Alaska and being against snow."
On Conscience:
"A man's moral conscience is the curse he had to accept from the gods in order to gain from them the right to dream."
I've quoted enough. but let me finish this by quoting Faulkner from his Nobel Acceptance speech:
"I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail."
"I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail."
Now, this was on Dec. 10, 1950. Let's fast forward to 1982, and have a look at what happened!
"On a day like today, my master William Faulkner said, "I decline to accept the end of man". I would fall unworthy of standing in this place that was his, if I were not fully aware that the colossal tragedy he refused to recognize thirty-two years ago is now, for the first time since the beginning of humanity, nothing more than a simple scientific possibility. Faced with this awesome reality that must have seemed a mere utopia through all of human time, we, the inventors of tales, who will believe anything, feel entitled to believe that it is not yet too late to engage in the creation of the opposite utopia. A new and sweeping utopia of life, where no one will be able to decide for others how they die, where love will prove true and happiness be possible, and where the races condemned to one hundred years of solitude will have, at last and forever, a second opportunity on earth."
Needless to say, I just quoted Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a.k.a., Gabo.
Apparently, Marquez idolizes Faulkner. His Macondo is designed after Faulkner's imaginary Yoknapatawpha County. Even Faulkner's title, "Light in August" is converted into, "Meeting in August", by Gabo for one of his stories.
Like Faulkner, Gabo was a heavy drinker too, at least, occasionally. He also used to smoke heavily. I think, he once mentioned of smoking 1500 packs of cigerette while writing, One hundred Years of Solitude. But Gabo is also vehemently anti-Church (in almost all his books, he ridicules the Church and the religious figureheads), and pretty much Pro-Communism. Actually, once of the accusations levelled against him is that he would support any ruthless dictator in the Latin America, if that guy claims to be a Communist. I don't know if he got this trait too from Faulkner.
Like Faulkner, Gabo was a heavy drinker too, at least, occasionally. He also used to smoke heavily. I think, he once mentioned of smoking 1500 packs of cigerette while writing, One hundred Years of Solitude. But Gabo is also vehemently anti-Church (in almost all his books, he ridicules the Church and the religious figureheads), and pretty much Pro-Communism. Actually, once of the accusations levelled against him is that he would support any ruthless dictator in the Latin America, if that guy claims to be a Communist. I don't know if he got this trait too from Faulkner.
To comment on that aspect, I must first go through works of Faulker, which, sadly, I've not yet done!
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"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary." - William Faulkner, about Ernest Hemingway.
"Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?" - Ernest Hemingway, about William Faulkner.
"I'll get Faulkner to do it; he can write better than you can anyway."
Howard Hawk's, after his offer being turned down by Hemingway (to work with his own book).
"Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?" - Ernest Hemingway, about William Faulkner.
"I'll get Faulkner to do it; he can write better than you can anyway."
Howard Hawk's, after his offer being turned down by Hemingway (to work with his own book).
"Just a year apart in age, with Hawks the senior, both were reserved to the point of noncommunicativeness; Nunnally Johnson was astonished by the sight of the two of them just sitting together not saying a word. When they did talk, they did do slowly, in a drawling manner." Todd McCarthy in "Howard Hawks: The Grey Fox of Hollywood"
______________________________________________________________Sources:
http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/faulkner.htm
http://brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/w/william_faulkner.html
http://www.gradesaver.com/classicnotes/authors/about_william_faulkner.html
http://nobelprize.org/literature/laureates/1949/faulkner-speech.html
http://www.powells.com/review/2004_11_04.html
http://nobelprize.org/literature/laureates/1982/marquez-lecture-e.html
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