No American author--not even Melville--has the potential to alter human consciousness as profoundly as Faulkner. The "bait" may be sensational plots, seemingly grotesque characters, and Southern Gothic settings, but the reward is knowledge of the innermost workings of the mind, of both the self in the world and the world of self. Faulkner is as advanced, as universal, as human as any author on the near side of Shakespeare.
Oprah's three selections are inarguably indispensable though not sufficient to a complete understanding of Faulkner's vision. Some readers may wish to start out with something lighter--for example, the short stories that are anthologized in introductory literature courses ("Rose for Emily," "Barn Burning," "That Evening Sun," and "The Bear"--short edition). And for those readers who jump right into the novels and survive the challenge of Faulkner's syntax, jump cuts, and stream-of-consciousness technique, there yet remains his masterpiece: "Absalom, Absalom!"
In reading some of the previous reviews, I see there are a number of readers who either dismiss or condemn Faulkner in no uncertain terms. Just give him a chance and your undivided attention. I've witnessed high school students with little to no interest in reading come to life after participating in and constructing the meanings of "The Sound and the Fury." For those who have doubts that the pay-off is worth the effort, I'll offer a glimpse of the rewards. Here are the areas where Faulkner has affected me most deeply and indelibly:
1. History and the personal sense of the past. The present is always "filled" with the past and hence cannot be understood without a willingness to own the past--all of it. On the other hand, many of Faulkner's characters remain entrapped by the past, simply unable to escape their imprisonment in a dream gone bad, or in a "magnificent idea" (the Grand Old South) that was tainted from the very beginning.
2. Gender. Faulkner probes into the recesses of human consciousness, men and women. His strong women characters outdo his strongest men in wisdom, resilience, and stoic backbone. And just at the moment when we think we've got one of his characters figured out, he removes another layer of the outer persona, repeating the process until finally we've arrived at the inner sanctuary of a desire so ineffably private and intense that it's as if the mystery of human personality itself has been bridged.
3. Race. It's everybody's business, as no author has made clearer. A reader who has completed these three novels along with "Go Down Moses" and the crucial "Absalom, Absalom!," is unlikely to see race and color as before. Every reader must "earn" the insight for themselves, but for Faulkner "blackness," pure and simple, equates to "humanness." Color is less a marker than part of the human condition. To insist on a pure ethnic or racial strain is to invite "incest," Faulkner's metaphor for the terminal disease of racial pride and segregation.
4. Language. This area is the most elusive for the general reader, but for Faulkner language is not only medium but subject and substance. "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was made flesh." For Faulkner, language is what distinguishes humans from all other creatures. It's not merely a "tool"; it's human consciousness itself. Paradoxically, one of his most "alive" characters, Addie Bundren ("As I Lay Dying"), hates words because they seem inadequate to represent her desires. The very expression of those desires refutes her aversion to words; in fact, the very force of her words (the language of a dead woman!) controls all that transpires in her story.
If this is your first conversation with Faulkner, I almost envy you. Don't be surprised if it's not your last.