William Faulkner Audio Collection

Atcheson Hench road shows, as he says.

Joseph Blotner Well, we haven't heard from the agent, the circuit. Right now there are none planned.

Engineer Just a little bit there. If you can lean in, Mr. Faulkner, without hurting it. [laughter]

Atcheson Hench This is to remind us of our names. Wait a minute. I haven't got Blotner down there.

Joseph Blotner Yeah, you have.

Edward Stephenson But not—not—

Joseph Blotner No.

Unidentified participant Why don't you just turn it around?

William FaulknerJust write his name on a piece of paper and pin it to him. [laughter]

Unidentified participant Like they do at conventions.

Frederick GwynnPreferably on the inside.

Atcheson Hench 'Cause every now and then one of us just goes blind as far as the words are concerned—I mean names are concerned. Have you ever forgotten your own name, Joe?

Joseph BlotnerNo, but I've heard another announcer do it.

Atcheson Hench You did?

Joseph BlotnerHe said, "And your announcer has been"—[laughter]. He just turned on the record.

EngineerMr. Faulkner, do you think you will be sitting forward like that most of the time?

William FaulknerI can sit wherever you want me to.

EngineerWell,that—that'll be fine. Just about like that. I think Mr. Hench has a slightly louder voice [and so it should balance it out].

Atcheson HenchDoes he want to try us out?

Engineer Yes, sir. In just a second.

Atcheson HenchAlright. Well, this is cheating, in a way, to do these two fifteen minuteses and then to say that "Last week"—it's going to be awful hard— [laughter]

Edward StephensonYou just lie one thing after another, don't you? A terrible liar.

Atcheson HenchWho, me?

Edward StephensonMmhmm.

Atcheson HenchWell, how is this—how does this sound? Is that alright? And Mr. Faulkner you could say, "Eeny meeny miney mo" or anything else.

William FaulknerIf I know it, I will. [laughter] You mean the rest of it or just "eeny meeny miney mo"?

Atcheson Hench just testing your voice.

EngineerAll right.

Edward StephensonIs that all right now? Can anyone tell me where these wonderful blend words in "Spotted Horses" are? "Sward" is one of them I remember. Can you hear me all right?

Robert DavisI haven't read "Spotted Horses" in a year, so I won't be able to tell you about that one.

Joseph BlotnerI'm not sure I know where they are, Steve.

Edward StephensonDid you make up that word "sward" or is that something you've heard?

William FaulknerNo, no, that's the way they pronounce it.

Atcheson HenchJoe, Joe.

Joseph BlotnerOne, two, three, four, five. How's that? Does that—is that alright? A little more volume? Do you need some more gain?

EngineerDown a little.

Joseph BlotnerOne two, three, four, five. How's that? Okay?

EngineerThat's all right."

Atcheson HenchWhat'd you say, [game?]

Joseph Blotner Gain, gain.

Atcheson HenchOh, gain.

Joseph BlotnerThe engineer rides the gain. He picks it up or cuts it down.

Atcheson HenchOh. [laughter]

EngineerThe opening is already on the tape, so any time you gentlemen feel ready.

Atcheson HenchAre you going to set the clock for us?

EngineerIt is set, and we'll just start it. we'll give you twelve and a half minutes, [sir], for the first show.

Atcheson Hench[He's got some signals] he doesn't understand. Oh, yes.

EngineerNo rattling of elbows, then.

Atcheson HenchNo rattling of elbows then. Let's not pound the table for once, shall we?[laughter] I pounded the table once, and Steve pounded the table once in excitement.

EngineerIt hasn't been done since.

Atcheson HenchI mustn't say ["uh-huh"].

Joseph BlotnerYesterday I opened that door, and it sounded like a pistol shot when it hit the wall in [that basement].

Atcheson HenchIt did.

Joseph Blotner jumped.

Robert DavisThey ought to do something about ventilating that room. It was awfully hot in there.

Joseph BlotnerIt was getting pretty stuffy.

Edward StephensonBlowers weren't on, were they?

Atcheson HenchI don't know.

Edward StephensonIt's supposed to be air conditioning with blowers, but I don't think they were on.

Robert DavisMr. Stephenson, can I have a match, sir?

Edward StephensonSure.

Robert DavisThank you.

Joseph BlotnerWell, do you have—

Robert DavisWould you like to light it, Mr. Faulkner?

William FaulknerNo, thank you, sir. I'm just about smoked out.

Joseph BlotnerDo you have a lot of eloquent, impromptu comments there, Atch? Typed out?

Atcheson HenchI got my—my stuff. I—

Atcheson HenchToday as our special guest we have with us the American novelist William Faulkner, author-in-residence at the University of Virginia this semester. We are indeed fortunate to have him with us. Also around our table today are our regular panel members Mr. Edward Stephenson and Mr. Robert Davis. As—and, as another special panel member today, we have Mr. Joseph Blotner, of the English Department. And our subject today is Mr. Faulkner's dialect. And I suppose we might as well lay on the table one plain fact, one simple fact at first, that it is Mississippi dialect. Isn't it, Mr. Faulkner?

William FaulknerAs far as I know. I wouldn't limit it to Mississippi, though. I think I've heard this same dialect in Arkansas, Louisiana, Alabama. And I imagine, in time, I'll hear it here in Virginia.

Atcheson HenchWould you hear the same words, all the same vocabulary?

William FaulknerI wouldn't be surprised. [I probably would.]

Atcheson HenchDo you think so, Mr. Stephenson?

Unidentified participantWell, I—

Edward StephensonWell, the southern dialect—of course, I'm a native of Georgia, and I read many things in Mr. Faulkner's writings that are familiar to me. I run across some things that are not. I expect there might be some small differences.

William FaulknerOh, yes, there would be small differences.

Edward StephensonBut it is a southern dialect.

Edward Stephenson By the way, Mr. Faulkner, how many different types of dialect do you try to distinguish? Now I notice, of course, the difference between the speech of the Negroes and the poor white trash. Are there any other distinctions that you try to make?

William FaulknerI would say there are three. The—the dialect, the diction, of the educated, semi-metropolitan white southerner, the dialect of the—of the hill, backwoods southerner, and the dialect of the Negro—four, the dialect of the Negro who has been influenced by the northern cities, who has been to Chicago and Detroit.

Edward StephensonFour different dialects?

William FaulknerFour.

Atcheson HenchDo you find that your characters change their dialect as they improve in financial status?

William FaulknerNot always. Sometimes. The ones that are—that take up snobbery easily, yes, they will change their dialect, and young people have an aptitude for changing their dialect, like a chameleon does.

Atcheson HenchBy the way, a friend of yours asked me to ask you a question today. He said that Flem Snopes doesn't smoke, but he'll chew a little tobacco till all the "suption" is out of it. He wanted me to ask you if you coined that word "suption."

William FaulknerNo, no. Did you ever hear of that in Georgia, Mr. Stephenson?

Edward StephensonNo, I'm not familiar with that.

William FaulknerWell, it means nourishment. Now I don't know that I—

Atcheson HenchIt doesn't mean juice?

William FaulknerWell, nourishment. There's suption in meat, in bread, it's—I think it's more nourishment than juice.

Robert DavisThe goodness. We'd—I think we'd say he got the goodness out of it.

William FaulknerGoodness, yes, that's right.

Edward StephensonHave you heard that in Alabama, Mr. Davis?

Robert DavisSuption? I don't think I've heard of suption but—

Edward StephensonMaybe it's a Mississippi word.

William FaulknerWhen chewing gum is no longer sweet, the suption is gone.

Edward StephensonMmhmm.

Atcheson HenchMr. Faulkner, I had—have down here on a list several words that I would like to ask you about. It's—one is the word "pussel-gutted." You spoke about Jewel calling his horse "pussel-gutted," and that was in mock affection. And then in another place Peabody—this is in, by the way, in As I Lay Dying—Peabody has "pussel-gutted" himself eating cold greens. I suppose that means make yourself flabby.

William FaulknerBloated, yes.

Edward StephensonThat's a Georgia term. I know that term.

Atcheson HenchIs there a plant that you're—that is behind that figure of speech, pussel?

William FaulknerNo.

Atcheson HenchThere's a plant in Virginia called [pussley], and I thought maybe it was the same thing. It's a hideous plant, an ugly plant. It gets full of water.

William FaulknerIt could derive from that. I don't know. I've heard it all my life. It means someone that is bloated, that has a tremendous belly that he shouldn't have.

Edward StephensonMay I come back for a moment to this distinction between the speech of the Negroes and of the—of what used to be called the poor white trash. In your short story "Wash," Mr. Faulkner, when Wash is talking about Colonel Sutpen, he call—you spell it K-E-R-N-E-L, when the Negroes are talking you spell it C-U-N-N-E-L. Is that supposed to be "Kernal' that Wash says, and "Cunnel" that the Negroes say. In other words, Negroes drop the "r."

William FaulknerThat's correct.

Edward StephensonThat's the idea.

William FaulknerThat's correct. And the—what we call the redneck white man has a hard "r."

Edward StephensonHe has the—

William FaulknerHe says "fur" for far. He says "far" for fire.

Edward StephensonYes.

William FaulknerThe Negro don't have the hard "r."

Edward StephensonI assumed that that was the purpose of that. Now if Colonel Sutpen or one of his—upper class characters was speaking, then you just use the conventional spelling, which really would be rather like Wash's pronunciation, though not as hard on "r"'s.

William FaulknerThat's right, it's between—

Edward StephensonBut the—between Wash and the Negroes, "Kernal" versus "Cunnel."

William FaulknerYes.

Atcheson HenchMay I ask you about another word that I noticed, and that's the word "peakling." You said about Jewel, or rather in connection with Jewel it was said, "I told them that's why ma always whipped him and petted him more. Because he was "peakling" around the house.

William FaulknerThat's probably a—a corruption or contraction between "puny" and "weakly." Just like the contraction or corruption between "mist" and "drizzle" becomes "mizzle."

Robert DavisMr. Faulkner, I noticed that Vernon and Uncle Billy, in As I Lay Dying, often say "ay" for "yes." I wondered if that was—if that was common or whether it was just characteristic of the older generation?

William FaulknerThat is common among the older people whose ancestry was Scottish.

Robert DavisOh, yes, sir.

William FaulknerThey came to the mountains of North Carolina, then they came to the mountains of Virginia, then they came to the hills of Mississippi, and they kept their old ways. They would say to "red up" a room, just as you hear in Scotland—means to—to clean a room, to make the beds, sweep.

Atcheson HenchIs the same thing true about "beholden"? I'm "beholden" to you.

William FaulknerNow would that be Scottish or is that Old English?

Atcheson HenchWell, I suppose it's English and Scottish.

William FaulknerWell, yes. That's right.

Atcheson Hench"Red" is certainly Scottish. You're right there.

Edward StephensonI'd like to make a point about the importance of knowing the author's speech in interpreting his dialect spellings. Now Thomas Nelson Page, for instance, when he wants to represent an Old Virginia Negro who says "cawn't," will spell that sometimes C-A-R-N-T. And I noticed you've done the same thing in "Wash." When the old Negro woman is talking to Colonel Sutpen, she says "Yes, mawster," and you spell it M-A-R-S-T-E-R. Now we should interpret that "mawster" rather than "master", but it isn't "marster," is it?

William FaulknerNo.

Edward StephensonIt's "moster." And the "ar" spelling then, since we know that you are from a part of the country—and you yourself drop the "r" after a vowel, then the "ar" can be a symbol for the sound "aw."

Robert DavisI suppose, Mr. Faulkner, that'd be the same thing as when Dilsey says, "winda," and you spell it W-I-N-D-E-R. That she says "winda," rather than "winder."

William FaulknerThat's right. There's no "r."

Robert DavisBut now the backwoodsman would say "winder."

William FaulknerThat's right.

Robert DavisWouldn't he?

William Faulkner"Winder."

Robert Davis"Winder."

Edward StephensonAnd then you'd have a problem because you'd have to spell it the same way if you wanted to represent it in dialect, wouldn't you? That'd be a problem for the author to worry about there.

William FaulknerI should say, being a Mississippian, I would probably put two r's on it.

Edward StephensonThat's what Page does, by the way—no not Page, but James Russell Lowell in his "Bigelow Papers" when he wants to represent—in certain parts of New England where they have a very hard "r," he puts two "r"'s. That's the same thing he does.

Atcheson HenchIs that—is it the same way with that disease that I saw somewhere? A-G-U-E-R. An "aga"? Is that right? "Aga."

William FaulknerYes, that's right.

Edward StephensonWhat did you mean, Mr. Faulkner, in—I'm not quite sure how you intended this to be pronounced—I know the word, but this particular spelling of it. Wash says, "if you was A-R-A other man." "Ary other man. Or "ara."

William FaulknerThat's right, "ara."

Edward Stephenson"Ara."

William Faulkner"Ara" or "nara."

Edward StephensonMmhmm.

Robert Davis"Ara." I remember in Alabama, where I lived sort of back in the hills myself, and it was "ary" back there, rather than "ara." Funny—

Atcheson Hench"Ary."

Robert Davis"Ary." U-huh.

Atcheson HenchAnd "nary."

Robert Davis"Nary."

Edward StephensonYou know that may be an example of of over-correction, just like in the mountains when the name Andy becomes "Anda" sometimes, and Naomi becomes "Naoma."

Robert DavisOr it may be—it may be the—the mountain speech coming down into Northern Alabama there.

Edward StephensonMight be.

Atcheson HenchMr. Faulkner, how do you pronounce these words: "A-W-R-Y haired" and "A-W-R-Y feathered."

William FaulknerAwry.

Atcheson HenchAwry.

William FaulknerThat's what I was trying to spell.

Atcheson HenchI see. Have you ever heard the pronunciation "ory" haired?

William FaulknerNot in Mississippi—

Atcheson Hench"Ory" feathered"?

Joseph BlotnerIs that at all similar to ["ory eyed"]? Or does that refer to another condition or pronunciation.

Atcheson HenchI think it is. I think it is.

William FaulknerVery likely is, but I never heard "ory" applied to anything except "eye."

Joseph BlotnerMmmhmm. That's the only usage I know.

Edward StephensonI want to ask Mr. Faulkner—ask you Mr. Faulkner why once you spell the word dog D-A-W-G for Wash. It seems to me that I don't approve of that spelling. That doesn't really differentiate Wash from any of the other characters. Wouldn't they all say "dawg"? Don't you say "dawg"? Doesn't everybody in Mississippi say "dawg."

William FaulknerYes, the reason for that is that someone has said southerners don't read books; they write books. And I think that when the southerner writes deliberately spelled dialect, he is writing not for the man that calls "dog" "dawg," but for the man that calls "dog" "dog."

Edward StephensonBut "dawg"—"dawg" is very general all over the country. Of course in some parts of the Midwest people do say "dog." But in New England and the South, and a large part of the rest of the country D-O-G is "dawg"

William FaulknerYes, but these people would speak with a—even more flatness than that. It would be "Dawg."

Atcheson HenchStretched out.

William FaulknerYes.

Edward StephensonWell another—another point I'd like to ask you about. In the use of "hit" which I'm familiar with in Georgia. It's an old form that's survived. But it seems to me, at least in Georgia, the distinction is this. In an unstressed, where the—where the syllable would not be accented—for instance, you could hardly say—if you wanted to say "Move it over thar," you—it would be hard say "move hit over thar." But if you said, "Hit don't make no difference"—or—when it's stressed, it would be "hit." But I notice you use it rather indiscriminately whether it would be in a stress position or not in a stress position. I think—I think you were careless in that regard.

William FaulknerPerhaps so, but I think I have heard it used—sometimes the same man will say "move hit yonder" or "move it yonder."

Atcheson HenchAnd "make it now" and "make hit now."

William FaulknerThat's right, the same—

Atcheson HenchMore deliberation.

William FaulknerWell, I don't know. It's—he probably is not aware himself. At one time he puts an and the next time he drops it.

Joseph BlotnerI should think his—the speed with which he spoke or the emotion—

William FaulknerYes, has a lot to do with it.

Joseph BlotnerThat might even determine which spelling—

Edward StephensonFor instance, here's one. Wash says, "You make hit right," and you spell it H-I-T, which—but again, he says, "Hit don't need no ticket."

Robert DavisMr. Faulkner, one thing that I'd like to get in I've wondered how you do it. Just how you go about it. I see some every now again, some of these words that I think are—are brilliant. Luster, I remember, in the end of The Sound and the Fury, says— [recording is interrupted by seventeen seconds of music]

Robert Davis in our memory I should think.

Atcheson HenchDo you ever create these things?

William FaulknerProbably.

Edward StephensonHe doesn't mean to, though.

William FaulknerNo, I don't deliberately, but I—probably I have corrupted words on my own ticket.

Edward StephensonTo get a good result.

Atcheson HenchWe've enjoyed being with you for the past fifteen minutes for this chat. There is much more on the subject that we could say, but our time has run out on us again. However, we cordially invite you to be in our listening audience next week at this same time, when Mr. Faulkner will again be in our—will be our special guest. Joining us around the table today were Mr. Ed Stephenson, Mr. Joseph Blotner, and Mr. Robert Davis. Our special guest for this program was Mr. William Faulkner. This is Atcheson Hench thanking you for joining our discussion today and inviting you to listen again next week at this time for another chat on some aspect of the language we speak.

Frederick Gwynn [cough]

Robert DavisHave you been waiting all that time to cough, Mr. Gwynn?

William FaulknerNow's the time for Mr. Hench to get up and do this again. [laughter]

EngineerYou may stretch your muscles just a moment just while we switch tapes and then we'll continue again as though we never stopped.

Atcheson HenchWell wasn't it brilliant?

Frederick GwynnThat worked very well.

Joseph BlotnerYou were great, Hench. [laughter]

Atcheson HenchOh dear. You know I—you speaking about ["elefunk"]. I think that's one of those rebuildings to suit what the man probably thinks it ought to be, like ["plathform"] instead of "platform." Though what ["funk"]—"elefunk" would be I wouldn't have any idea. But he's got some notion in there.

Robert DavisThere's something I've wondered about, and I don't guess we can ask it on this program, so I'll just ask it now. I remember Luster says—he chunks some rocks at some jaybirds, and he says, "Git on back to hell, whar you belong at. 'Taint Monday yit." I wondered what that superstition—I never heard that superstition—

William FaulknerThe superstition is that on Friday the jaybirds all go to hell; they don't come back till Monday.

Robert Davis around from that Monday until the next Friday.

William FaulknerQuite often you never hear a jaybird over the weekend, and the superstition is they've gone to hell.

Joseph BlotnerThat's probably what they've done.

William FaulknerSometimes that is where they should go—

Joseph BlotnerGee, there was one that I wanted to ask about. In "Spotted Horses," when Armstid's wife tells how badly off they are and says that "He aint no more despair than to spend four dollars for a horse." I know what she means, but I've just never heard those words put together that way before.

Edward Stephenson I'm familiar with that.

Joseph BlotnerAre you?

William FaulknerIt means he has no more shame, no more consideration, for our trouble.

Joseph BlotnerI'm glad you didn't use any—any technical terms on us, Steve, like post-vocalic "r." Stuff like that it was the wrong thing to do.

Edward StephensonI slipped up and did that one time. It was the first program we did then I realized that was the wrong thing to do —

Joseph BlotnerYou might just as well use Esperanto.

Edward StephensonI won't talk about this vowel then.

Joseph BlotnerGood.

EngineerOkay? You gentleman ready for—?

Joseph BlotnerDo you want to reset the clock?

Atcheson HenchI think it does, and that every now and then helps me if I think of it.

William FaulknerDid you ever hear of "swurge" for "surge?"

Edward StephensonNo, that was another one I marked in "Spotted Horses." And you didn't invent that either. I thought maybe you invented that. It's a wonderful term, I think. It conveys the idea beautifully, but—

Atcheson HenchI think I've heard that "w" in certain places. I can't pull one out of my head right now. But I think in the mountains up here, in the Blue Ridge, I've heard a "w" that gets—

Edward StephensonIt could be. I could see how it happens. It could be the reverse of the loss of the "w" in "sword." "Sward."

Atcheson HenchToday as our special guest again we have with us the American novelist Mr. William Faulkner, author-in-residence at the University of Virginia this semester. We are indeed fortunate, as we were last week, to have him with us. Also around our table today are our special—are our regular panel members Mr. Edward Stephenson and Mr. Robert Davis. And as another panel member today, we have Mr. Joseph Blotner.

Atcheson HenchMr. Faulkner, following up what we said last week, I should like to ask you about the meanings of one or two words. By the way, is there a fish in Mississippi called a "hog"?

William FaulknerNo.

Atcheson HenchThen I misunderstood a line. Somewhere I thought you called a fish a hog. Maybe—there's no hogfish?

William FaulknerNo, I think somebody said the catfish the little boy had was as bloody as a hog. It's as full of blood as a hog.

Atcheson HenchOh, I see.

Atcheson Hench What about the word "frailed"? He "frailed him time and time." What's that mean?

William FaulknerTo whip, thrash.

Edward StephensonIt's a variant of flail, isn't it? Yes, I—I know that. It's a variant of flail.

William Faulkner—but they say "frail."

Joseph BlotnerYou use that, Mr. Davis?

Robert DavisNo, sir, I never heard that—I don't think. Not frail.

Edward StephensonOh, you're too much of a city boy.

Robert DavisI guess so.

Atcheson HenchWhat about these two that are—that always have interested me: "dust-dark" and "dust-dawn." The time of day which is "dust-dark" and "dust-dawn."

William FaulknerTwilight.

Atcheson HenchWhat does "dust" mean there?

William FaulknerIt's "dusk" really.

Atcheson HenchDusk.

William FaulknerBut they say "dust." That is, they say "dus-dark" and "dus-dawn." They don't say "dusk-dark" and "dusk-dawn."

Edward StephensonIf you all would let me be technical I'd say that's assimilation to the following "d." You see—

Joseph BlotnerOf course.

Edward Stephenson[The assimilated "d."]

Atcheson HenchDusky dark? Have you ever, Mr. Stephenson, heard "dusk-dawn," "dusk-dark"?

Edward StephensonNo, I don't know that.

Robert DavisBut I've heard "dust" for dusk. For the time of day, it's just "dust."

Edward StephensonMr. Faulkner, you have—to come back to the story "Wash" again, which I read quite recently—you have Wash say "kain't," but you don't represent the colonel as saying that. Don't you think he would have said "kaint" too?

William FaulknerThat was to make a distinction between their social position.

Edward StephensonIt's—it's really a sort of faking in a way. I mean I don't mean to be nitpicking but—

Joseph BlotnerWell, don't you think really the—the colonel himself would have been conscious of such things as pronunciation and perhaps would have stressed it where Colonel Sartoris might not have?

William FaulknerI doubt that. It was Wash's flat drawl. The colonel would have said "kaint"; Wash would have said "kayint." And the only way I know to do that is to spell it slightly different. Wash has a flatter voice than the plantation owner—and the master. [Though they would use the same—]

Edward StephensonIn that same story, Millie says to Wash, "You'll have to holler—you'll have to holler louder than that." "Holler," I suppose. H-O-L-L-E-R, you spelled it. That comes back to the question we asked last week about what would you do with "winder" if you wanted to have one of the poor white trash—

William FaulknerWell—

Edward StephensonIt's a problem, isn't it. Because now if this were one of the upper class characters, H-O-L-L-E-R would represent "holla," But knowing that it's Wash's daughter it's going to be "holler."

William FaulknerThat's right.

Edward StephensonSo we have to know something about the background.

Atcheson HenchMr. Faulkner, do you—you have—must have an astonishingly retentive memory for figures of speech. I noticed you spoke of a coffin "as neat as a sewing basket." And the talk of some women as kind of like "bees murmuring in a water bucket." Do you—are these phrases that are proverbial in your talk—in the talk of people in Mississippi, or do you make these up, or—or what? They're delightful phrases.

William FaulknerThose, I imagine, the circumstances of the story invent themselves, suggest to me. I've never heard them as— [as analogies]. Simply the circumstances of the story—or the desire to describe that the best I can in comprehensible phrases or figures of speech.

Atcheson HenchDo you have any idea which kinds of things you like most to use figures of speech—make figures of speech out of. Flowers or fish or horses or dogs or trees or just—or don't you worry and care less?

William FaulknerI would say that the—the—the instant I am involved with does the commanding in that.

Robert DavisI think one of the most unusual kinds of figures of speech that I've noticed—when certain of your characters—certain of your more perceptive characters like Benjy in The Sound and the fury and Darl in As I Lay Dying—their sense of smell seems to be very acute. I know Darl says—when it's getting ready to rain he says it smells like sulfur. Well, even Quentin in The Sound and the Fury remembers the smell of the honeysuckle and so forth. I—I think that's particulary good and it's rather unusual, I think. Because usually that's one of the senses—one of the five that's left out so often in writing. It gives that added touch of realism to it.

Atcheson HenchMr. Faulkner, may I ask you if I—if there's something here in Mississippi folklore that I missed, not having grown up in Mississippi. Cora says, "His face looked like one of these here Christmas masts that had been—that had done been buried a while and then dug up." What is a Christmas "mast"?

William FaulknerOh, the toy mask, the comic faces that children buy in the—in the stores for Halloween and—and Christmas time.

Unidentified participantAnd "mast" is really for "mask"?

William FaulknerMask, yes.

Unidentified participantJust like "dusty" for "dusk."

William FaulknerYes, that's right.

Edward StephensonMr. Faulkner, in "The Bear," here's a word I don't know. I wonder if you can tell me what it means. The word is B-O-T: "The old game crossing over which he'd trailed bucks wounded and not wounded and more than once seen them anything but wounded bot out of the woods and up and across the embankment—" What's that word B-O-T mean? It looks like a verb having to do with rapid motion or something of the sort.

William FaulknerI would have to see it.

Edward StephensonMaybe it's a misprint?

William FaulknerIt is a misprint, yes. There's no such word as that. If it's not a misprint for "but" then—

Edward Stephenson"But out of the woods" would make sense. Or could it be "hot out of the woods"?

William FaulknerThat's a good point.

Edward StephensonWherever

William Faulkner"Hot."

Edward Stephenson"Hot out of the woods." I see.

William FaulknerYes, I remember. It was hot.

Edward Stephenson"Hot out of the woods." That's a misprint.

William FaulknerRunning at top speed. Yes, "hot out of the woods."

Atcheson HenchDo all—do many people use the word "chapping" for having children. Somebody said, "We ain't nigh done chapping yet."

William FaulknerThat's quite colloquial. You hear that only in the remote hill country. People that—that have no—where there are no Negroes and their speech is not corrupted by—by Negro inflections and the Negro usage of words. That came from Scotland.

Atcheson HenchIs "lawed"—would you say of—the same thing of "lawed." "He should be lawed for treating her so." In other words arrested or something.

William FaulknerThat's [not all]—making a verb out of a noun.

Atcheson HenchYou did that yourself?

William FaulknerNo. I've heard that.

Atcheson HenchOh, I see.

William FaulknerThat's—I imagine that that's in Georgia and Alabama, too.

Edward StephensonWhat does this mean, Mr. Faulkner? Let's see, "They all piled over the crest of the hill just in time to see Tomey's Turl a way out across the flat almost to the woods and the dogs streaking down the hill and out onto the flat. They just tongued once and when they came boiling up around Tomey's Turl they looked like they were going to jump up and lick him in the face."

William FaulknerAnother verb made from a noun. They "gave tongue" once.

Atcheson HenchYou've never hunted.

Edward StephensonNo, I'm not a hunter.

Atcheson HenchWell, Mr. Faulkner is. He's heard the sound of dogs.

William FaulknerThat means they were—they were on game. They bayed once, then they recognized Tomey's Turl, a friend, so they quit.

Edward StephensonI see.

William FaulknerThey just caught up with him to lick his hand, to run along with him.

Atcheson HenchMr. Faulkner, what is a tie-up in a barn?

William FaulknerThat's anything you tie cattle to. It's near a rack for feeding.

Atcheson HenchOh, I see. A rack or a bar.

William FaulknerA hitch or a lead is snapped into the halter—tied to a [bar].

Edward StephensonAnd another place, Mr. Faulkner, "Black John came out of the trees, driving, soopled out flat and level as a hawk." Is that a verb made from the adjective "supple"?

William FaulknerYes, they pronounce "supple," "soople."

Edward StephensonI've heard the pronunciation of the adjective as "soople." This is a verb in the past tense, "soopled."

William FaulknerYes, that's right. To—to "soople" is to do something rapid and limber.

Atcheson HenchMr. Faulkner, some days ago I remember your saying that you thought you could move, say, to a Maine village, a fishing village or a lumbering village, and it wouldn't be long before you would be writing about people there. Yet I remember yesterday you said that it was the inflection, the sound of the words and the dialect that was very much a part of the people that you write about. Don't you think that, though you could see stories quickly in the lives of this imagined Maine group of people, it would take you a long time to get on to their talk, their pronunciation, and so forth? [end of recording]