Faulkner’s short story titled “A Rose for Emily” is about some incidents with Ms Emily, a descendent of the Grierson family. The tale introduces the conflict between the past and present. To emphasize it, Faulkner shows, for example, Ms Emily adhering to the past, rejecting present changes. The interior of her house is archaic, as well as the furniture. She also refuses to pay taxes that she was remitted for long time ago.
The aim of this piece is to show my cultural understanding of the American South in 19th century, the time the story is based in. To do so, I will write a first person narrative, the main character being one of deputies of the Board of Aldermen. My deputy is about to enter the house. Like the original one, the narrative is going to be descriptive with details but more dialog is included between the details to give the passage more variety. The dialog will lead the flow of the story, and the descriptive details will demonstrate cultural characteristics of the American South, including rigidity to new changes. The register is going to be informal as the narrative includes local natives’ dialog and is just a story of one woman in a town.
“Good afternoon. What can I do for you, sir?” He greeted neutrally.
“Keenan Gleeson. This is a deputy officer from the Board of Aldermen.”
“Please come in.”
As I entered, dusts in a dim hall welcomed us, embracing us gently. The plodding sound of our footsteps made on a wooden floor amplified throughout the house, and was echoed all the way back to us, reminding us that the house is somewhat, big. The house was otherwise so hushed that literally nothing but the footsteps could be heard. On the left side was a stairway to the second floor. I could actually see dusts stacked on each step of the stairway, so much were they visible to me. We then were guided to the parlour which was filled with leather-covered furniture and the wall painted white, with many tiny cracks and some spider webs. We sat down on a shabby but soft sofa.
From the sofa I could see a portrait of a black frame on an easel. In the portrait, Miss Emily was with her father. I could feel the silence in the portrait. Monochromatic, the portrait was showing them gazing down upon us. They were posed, but at the same time strict and imposing. They looked confident with the formal look. The little badge on each of their chest seemed to represent the Grierson family. Behind them, the United States flag stood, patriotically. By the time I was looking into Ms Emily’s face again, she cleared her throat. “Hem.”
We all turned our eyes to the door where the real Miss Emily was standing. I knew she knew it. Even so, I started to talk.
“Hello, Miss Emily. We are a delegation sent from the Board of Aldermen. I am Keenan.”
Her dry and sharp eyes were still, looking determined to any
“Umm... so, you recently... uh, hmm... Excuse me. Received a letter from the…”
“Mayor.” Johnson helped me out of my stumbling halts.
Looking at her properly, I now realized that she was chubby. But neither her fat stomach nor her mouth did open to speak. I did not know until then that the second hand of a clock could tick audibly. I tried to erase that sound.
“As you might be aware, you have been remitted of taxes for years but that is no longer possible by law.”
She grimaced. The wrinkles made curves on her whitish forehead.
“I have no taxes in Jefferson, Colonel Sartoris explained it to me. Perhaps one of you can gain access to the city records and satisfy yourselves.”
Johnson and Winifred tried to help me against her brazen argument. However, soon, they lost and we were out of the house with no result.