Visual and Tactile Aspects of Decay in William Faulkner's A Rose for
Emily
On
the surface, William Faulkner's short story, A
Rose for Emily,
is about the life, gradual aging, financial decline, and death of
Emily Grierson, a reclusive spinster who locks herself up in her
house and avoids most human contact after losing the two men who
figured most prominently in her life: a father who died of natural
causes and Homer Barron, a lover that perished at her hand. However,
a deeper reading of the story also takes place on its surface in a
very literal sense. Faulkner conceives of the progression of Emily's
life as a story of decay that is reflected on various physical
surfaces, be they faces, body parts, or furniture and clothes.
Although he works in the medium of writing, Faulkner approaches
storytelling from the perspective of a painter and/or sculptor. He
constantly surveys the textures of people and things and takes stock
of color patterns and even olfactory sensations. This essay endeavors
to examine how Faulkner uses visual and tactile imagery to chart
three interrelated aspects of Emily Grierson's decay: personal,
practical, and romantic. In the personal aspect, Emily's face and
body symbolize her increasing lifelessness and loss of vitality. In
the practical aspect, her poorly kept home represents her poverty and
disengagement from practical affairs. Finally, in the romantic
aspect, the squalid atmosphere of the room housing the body of her
dead lover reflects her disillusionment in romance.
One
of the striking features of the text is its close description of the
way the protagonist's body expresses her old age and reduced
vitality. In fact, the way the story conveys Emily's reduced vigor is
by portraying her as metaphorically dead even while she is physically
alive. In her old age, the narrator describes her body as a
conglomeration of flesh that barely moves but rather passively
floats. He writes that "she looked bloated like a body submerged
in motionless water." Flesh that doesn't move but is carried by
water may call to mind images of a corpse at sea. The narrator
metaphorically moves Emily from life to death by showing that, even
at the rather young age of thirty, the flesh on her face was losing
its expressive quality and becoming rigid and motionless just like
her flesh in general. Instead of possessing the elasticity to take on
different expressions, the skin of her face had become tight and
"strained across the temples and about the eye sockets." At
one point, to emphasize the lifelessness and the lack of
expressiveness on her face, the narrator describes it as a "strained
flag." Comparing a face to stretched-out fabric deprives it of
human properties. It becomes mere material that does not express
human emotions. Her general demeanor is equally characterized by a
lack of emotion and warm human engagement. As she is confronted with
suspicion in her attempt to purchase poison, Emily meets the
druggist's defiant questions with "cold, haughty eyes,"
and an "erect posture." Thus, the metaphorical lifelessness
of her flesh and face is mirrored by equally lifeless cold eyes and a
stiffness of erect posture fit for a corpse. In another instance, the
narrator emphasizes Emily's deathlike state by conceiving of her face
and eyes as inanimate objects -- "two small pieces of coal
pressed into a lump of dough." We, the readers, cannot see a
soul by looking into pieces of coal, and we can't recognize a woman's
countenance in a lump of dough.
Whereas
the imagery associated with Emily's body served to illustrate the
decay of her vitality, descriptions of a poorly kept home testify to
the protagonist's financial decline and indifference to the practical
affairs of life. Her possessions, originally luxurious, lose their
luster and begin to look squalid and shabby.(Note: although
Emily Grierson comes from a rich and distinguished family, her
financial resources dwindle after the death of her father.)
Her ebony cane with a gold head is a fancy item; but the gold on that
head is tarnished and doesn't look quite that beautiful anymore. The
same can be said about the gilt easel standing before the fireplace;
it too has become tarnished. During a visit to insist that she pay
taxes, government officials notice that a stairway in her house
doesn't seem to have been dusted off often enough—it "smelled
of dust." The seating furniture seems to have suffered exactly
the same fate; "a faint dust rose sluggishly about their thighs"
when the officials sat down on it. Neither has Emily invested funds
in reupholstering or replacing this worn-out furniture whose "leather
was cracked."
But
the corroding and decrepit items in this house also tell the story of
Emily's decaying romance—a passionate love that has turned into
disenchantment and death. A room where Emily once slept with her
lover charts the transformation of a once sensual atmosphere
reflecting the blissful anticipation of a wedding to a gravelike
environment of heartbreak. Her lover, Homer Barron, might have once
been preparing to deck himself out in a fancy suit for their marriage
ceremony. The rose-shaded lights in the room may have once symbolized
the couple's tender love. However, upon the discovery of the room in
the wake of Emily's death, various items buried under a layer of dust
come to represent a lost chance at love, a potential romance wasted.
Homer's clothes as well as the dressing-table and rose-shaded lights
are all covered with a "thin acrid pall as of the tomb."
The pall mentioned above refers to a gloomy thin cover of dust that
envelops all objects and imbues them with the atmosphere of death.
The room was full of this "pervasive dust" that was "dry
and acrid in nostrils." That "even coating of the patent
and biding dust" even covers Homer's dead body and the pillow
lying beside it. This is all in stark contrast to the joyful
atmosphere of the horse-carriage rides at the beginning of their
courtship evoked by the lush and sumptuous textures of "craned
silk and satin behind jalousies closed upon the sun of Sunday
afternoon." Nothing better emphasizes the fading glow of the
once-budding love as the lost luster of the once-glittering silver on
the monograms inscribed on Homer's wedding attire. All that is left
of the "man's toilet set in silver, with the letters H. B. on
each piece" that Emily once ordered in the expectation of an
upcoming wedding is "tarnished silver, silver so tarnished that
the monogram was obscured." Even the letters of the lover's name
have practically vanished, perhaps much like his memory and the
promise of a blessed union have faded from Emily's mind with the
passage of time. The beautiful clothes, the monograms, and the
romantic lights have all lost their glow. All of these once-beautiful
objects were ruined by dust and gloom just like the love story itself
was infused with a bitter taste and a dark fate when Emily murdered
Homer.
With
the fine, short strokes of his masterly pen, Faulkner manages to
sketch the portrait of a woman whose life has stopped in its tracks.
Emily's lethargic and motionless body and her expressionless face
imbue her with a corpselike demeanor; we, as readers, search in vain
for a robust spirit that animates this sluggish flesh. Inside the
house, all is tarnished, dusty, and worn-out. This only seems to
confirm Emily's weariness, reminding us of her indifference to
everyday affairs and her resignation to a life in poverty. And what
is left of the only romance she has ever had? Nothing but dust. And
yet, paradoxically enough, as we encounter the room housing her dead
lover and his attire, we are brought back in time to Emily's younger
days and the ardor of her romance. Before the deathly dust covering
Homer and his wedding wear, there was sensuous silk and satin; the
tarnished silver monograms had once glittered in the giddy thrill of
a wedding to come. Faulkner only manages us to give us feeble hints
of Emily Grierson's vivacious, vibrant side that yearned, dreamed,
and loved. And yet, we as readers, are challenged to crack her
impenetrable veneer and imagine a woman with a rich mind that we
can't see in her eyes and with blood running through her veins that
we can't quite perceive in her bloated, motionless body.