I do not know when I started liking thriller/horror/mystery stories. I do believe that children’s books from my childhood were a bit more intense than they are today. How many of you grew up with Katherine Tucker Windham’s Thirteen Alabama Ghosts and Jeffrey? Or Little Witch by Anna Elizabeth Bennett? Or, possibly the scariest children’s book of the seventies – if not all time, Watership Down by Richard Adams?

I know one story that truly evolved my passion for,,,. unsettling…. works was the short story “A Rose for Emily” by WIlliam Faulkner. My class was assigned this story in 7th grade and it still haunts me to this day. Set in the fictional Southern town of Jefferson, Mississippi, in the post-Civil War era, this story focuses on Emily Grierson, the only child in her family. It actually starts at Emily’s funeral. This short story focuses on Emily and her family’s downfall in the new era after the War.  Faulkner jumps around in time, never letting the reader feel comfortable. During the course of the story, he describes in detail Emily’s temperament and decline in society’s eyes. His descriptions include the disintegration of her home, her physical appearance, and her interactions with her fellow citizens.

We never get Emily’s point of view. The entire story is written from the POV of the townspeople. So… a gossip-y undertone?   Faulkner’s small town of Jefferson is like every other small town across America. I have heard people whisper and gossip about the latest scandal, only to find the truth did not quite align with the rumors swirling over backyard fences and front porch rockers. So how much of what we learn about Emily is true and how much is supposition?

This story does not age well in terms of today’s political correctness and indulgent behavior. Faulkner did not concern himself with hurting feelings, using terms that are considered derogatory today. He wrote blatantly about the decline of the Old South, societal expectations of women, and the repulsion/jealousy/curiosity aimed at a family fallen from grace.

This story does, however, stand as a true testament to Southern gothic literature. From the beginning, the story is meant to unsettle the reader with its odd timeline and its unending description of the crumbling of a young woman’s family, her home, and even her mind.

I am not going to ruin the ending of this story. Do you have those “I remember when it happened” memories? I remember reading the end of the story, sitting in a hot classroom near the end of the school day. I read the last sentence. I paused, then read it again. A large number of years later, I still can picture the page of the book. It did not end how I thought it would end.

Maybe in today’s world of shock culture and instant gratification, the story’s impact is not as jarring or unpredicted as I thought all those years ago. A reader experiencing it for the first time now might not catch their breath when they realize what happened. However, I think this story will stick with you. I suggest a hot, sticky, summer afternoon, a rocking chair, and a large pitcher of sweet tea or lemonade.