We've got your back. With the Tough-O-Meter, you'll know whether to bring extra layers or Swiss army knives as you summit the literary mountain. (10 = Toughest)
(9) Mount Everest
"Oh, come on," we just heard you say, "Faulkner's a 20th-century American. How hard can his writing be?" We'll tell you how hard: about 40 different characters, a lot of them related to one another, "Is this person that person's cousin, second cousin, or uncle" kind of hard. Russian novel hard.
Or: "Where on earth is the beginning of this sentence? Where is the beginning of this story? Who's speaking now?" kind of hard.
Or: "Is this happening during the Civil War, or before, or after, and how long after?" kind of hard.
Sentences go on for paragraphs, paragraphs for pages. Faulkner seems to be allergic to punctuation and to putting things in chronological order. And also to identifying speakers in long stretches of dialogue. You get the idea. It's not that Faulkner couldn't write clearly; it's just that he's experimenting with a modernist style and you're the guinea pig.
By the way, if you think we're exaggerating, here's what David Trilling, a reviewer for The Nation, said about this book when it was published: "Mr. Faulkner's new book is worth effort but not, I think, the kind of effort which I found necessary: I had to read it twice to get clear not only the finer shades of meaning but simple primary intentions, and I had to construct an elaborate genealogical table to understand the family connections" (Source: Fargnoli, Nicholas A., Michael Golay and Robert W. Hamblin, eds. Critical Companion to William Faulkner: A Literary Reference to His Life and Work. New York: Facts on File, 2008. Print. p. 101) Of course, Mr. Trilling didn't have Shmoop back then to help him out.