William Faulkner's "Dry September": Short Questions and Answers

 Q. 1. Give a brief introduction to the character of Henry Hawkshaw.

Ans. We are introduced to the character of Henry Hawkshaw in the short story "Dry September" by William Faulkner. Henry Hawkshaw, also known as Hawk, is one of the barbers of Jefferson, a mild-mannered white man. The barbershop is one of the central gathering places for men in the town, and "Dry September" opens with Hawkshaw discussing the rumours about Minnie Cooper and Will Mayes with his fellow barbers and their customers. Hawkshaw vehemently defends Mayes, showing himself to be principled and rational in contrast to the blind racial hatred of the other men in the shop. He argues that he knows Mayes and believes that he would not attack a white woman, and that Minnie is a middle-aged unmarried woman who might be prone to exaggeration. This discussion leads to a confrontation between Hawk and John McLendon, in which McLendon questions Hawk's virtue as a white man. Eventually, the other men leave with McLendon in an angry mob, intent on finding Mayes and killing him. Hawkshaw reluctantly joins the men in an attempt to keep them from hurting Mayes, but he ends up jumping from a moving vehicle and walking back to town in defeat. Hawkshaw's trajectory illustrates the near-impossibility of combating racial hatred with reason, as well as the loneliness of dissent in small-town America.

Q. 2. Give a brief introduction to the character of Will Mayes.

Ans. We are introduced to the character of Will Mayes in the short story "Dry September" by William Faulkner. Will Mayes is a black man who lives in Jefferson, works at the ice factory, and has been accused of sexually assaulting a white woman, Minnie Cooper. It is unclear whether the rumour is true, and Mayes seems genuinely confused when confronted with an angry mob of white men who are out to kill him. Henry Hawkshaw knows Will, vouches for his character, and believes he is innocent; there will be no way to find out the truth, however, because the men in the barbershop have already decided on his guilt. As a black man in Jefferson, Mayes's word is worth next to nothing, and not a single person bothers to ask him about the incident.

This character evokes a good deal of sympathy: he is diligently working at the ice factory on a Saturday night, and when the mob of men drags him out to the car, he maintains a deferential manner right up until he is handcuffed and beaten. Even the one man who believes him to be innocent is unable to help him; as Mayes calls to Hawkshaw for help, the barber jumps from the car to escape the imminent violence. Mayes's implied death is emblematic of the powerlessness of black men in this society, and, in fact, the rumour of his murder sends such a strong message to the black men of Jefferson that they are completely absent from public areas of the town that evening.

Q. 3. Give a brief introduction to the character of John McLendon.

Ans. We are introduced to the character of John McLendon in the short story "Dry September" by William Faulkner. John McLendon is described as having commanded troops in France and is considered a war hero and a man of action around Jefferson. There is no mention of his current occupation, and it appears that it does not matter much, as he is entirely defined by his wartime heroism. He lives in Jefferson with his wife, and while he is publicly viewed as a man of valour, within the walls of his home, McLendon is verbally and physically abusive towards his wife, embodying the hypocrisy at the centre of "Dry September".

McLendon bursts into the barbershop at the beginning of the story in order to recruit men to help him retaliate against Will Mayes for what he may or may not have done to Minnie Cooper. While some of the other men, including Henry Hawkshaw, suggest that they should gather facts and go to the authorities, McLendon questions their reputations as white men tasked with upholding the status quo. He gathers a mob of angry men and, with the gun tucked into his waistband, abducts Mayes and brings him to a secluded area to kill him.

Q. 4. Give a brief introduction to the character of Miss Minnie Cooper.

Ans. We are introduced to the character of Miss Minnie Cooper in the short story "Dry September" by William Faulkner. Minnie Cooper is an unmarried white woman in her late thirties who may or may not have been sexually assaulted by a black man, Will Mayes. There is no certainty that anything happened between them, and some people in Jefferson doubt her story, as this is not the first time she has had a "man-scare". Minnie has been virtually abandoned by this society because of her low social status and lack of a husband. Though she was attractive as a young girl, she was passed over by the boys in town in favour of women with a higher social status.

She briefly dated the clerk at the local bank, but that did not end well, as he moved to Memphis without Minnie. After that, she settled in with her ageing mother and aunt and had little to do to occupy her time. According to others in Jefferson, Minnie drank whisky on a regular basis and had accused a man of watching her undress, both of which were seen as desperate attempts to attract attention. The rumour involving Will Mayes makes Minnie the centre of attention, whether or not that was her intent in the first place.

Q. 5. How does Faulkner set the tone of the story in the very first paragraph of "Dry September"?

Ans. The opening paragraph of "Dry September" sets the tone of the story by focusing on the oppressive heat and the resultant, uncontrolled and heated passions of Jefferson's citizens. Sixty-two hot, rainless days have created frustration among the townspeople and have fuelled Miss Minnie's accusation that she was raped by a black man. The first sentence stresses the rapidity with which the rumour—"like a fire in dry grass"—has spread throughout the town. The dry spell also causes the twilight to appear "bloody red", which emphasises the bloody events that are about to transpire. Already fuelling people's need for violence, the alleged attack has occurred in the early morning of the day that begins the story.

Faulkner establishes a major theme by linking the rumour of Miss Minnie's attack and the weather. Throughout the story, characters refer to the weather as an excuse for their behaviour.

Q. 6. How was the White Goddess concept reflected in the conversation among the men gathered at the barbershop in "Dry September"?

Ans. "Dry September" opens with a description of drought, violence, and death that is summed up in the words "the bloody September twilight", through which "the rumour, the story, whatever it was" about Miss Minnie Cooper and a Negro has spread. The men seem more than willing to accept the rumour as true, although the text clearly informs us that it is only a rumour or a story and indeed not much to rely on.

Faulkner has set the scene with deliberate consideration, arranging it so that the focus is on a barber, described as a "man of middle age; a thin, sand-coloured man with a mild face", but not named until later on. His first comment seems to be in response to a question from a customer to whom he is giving a shave. Hawkshaw does not believe in the rumour and calmly but firmly asserts that he knows that the "nigger" is a good person and that he knows Minnie Cooper as well. She is not married even at the age of forty, and so he does not trust Miss Minnie Cooper's word. Here Butch, the representative of typical white people, comments on the matter, revealing his firm belief in the White Goddess concept.

Q. 7. How did the other white men in the barbershop accuse Hawkshaw of supporting Will Mayes?

Ans. The rumour of a white woman, Miss Minnie Cooper, being raped by a black man, Will Mayes, has spread throughout the small town of Jefferson like a fire in dry grass. The town is suffering from a drought lasting sixty-two rainless days. The men in the barbershop are so ready and willing to accept the story that their readiness must somehow be related to the season of drought, an unease and a tension that have been building up for a long time; but the real basis of the immediate reactions of the most active customers is obviously their racial prejudices, their absolute conviction that the Negro is inferior, or at least that the social order they have created and maintained takes "a white woman's word before a nigger's".

Naturally, an argument among the clients in the barbershop arises. Butch believes that the black man has raped the white woman. But one speaker, a client himself, supports Hawkshaw's opinion that they should have plenty of time to find the truth. Butch, a firm believer in the "White Goddess" concept, expresses his disgust at the necessity of finding the truth and asks the speaker if he claims that anything excuses a nigger attacking a white woman, or if he means to tell Butch that he is a white man and will still stand for it. Then Butch, as though giving a verdict, tells the speaker that he should go back North where he came from, adding that the South does not want his kind in Jefferson.

Q. 8. How does John McLendon manipulate the men at the barbershop to join him?

Ans. Faulkner's critique of racism begins from the very first line of the story as he introduces the "rumour" about "something" that happened—or did not happen—between Will Mayes and Minnie Cooper. By making the rumour as vague as possible, Faulkner shows how racist violence does not result from a particular event but from hatred perpetuated by racial discourse. The rumour does not even name Will Mayes; it merely identifies him as a Negro, signifying that it is his race, rather than what he did or did not do, that will determine people's reaction towards him.

Faulkner shows how, in the beginning, their racial hatred is limited to assuming that Will Mayes is indeed the assaulter, and they are more concerned with convincing Hawkshaw. It is with McLendon's arrival that an urgency to act is created, and all the men are challenged, as white males, to accompany him. Faulkner's critique of racial discourse is deepened by his examination of how gender identities are connected to racial identities. Before McLendon's arrival, everyone condemns Will Mayes verbally, but they are spurred into action as McLendon's challenge becomes an affront to their masculinity.

McLendon uses the rumour to suggest that Will Mayes's assault on a white woman is a castration of all white men as incapable defenders of their women. This makes Hawkshaw's argument that Minnie is a sexually promiscuous woman lose its strength altogether. As a white woman, she is not just a symbol of white superiority over blacks but also a repository of white male masculinity. Once they convince themselves that the rumour is true, Will Mayes's assault is read as doubly disruptive of both white and masculine identities.

Faulkner's description of McLendon presents him as a hyper-masculine man whose "heavy-set body" and "bold glance" are able to capture the group's attention. Not only his poise but also his words appeal to their sensibilities as young men who might emulate his conduct and follow his lead. McLendon uses graphic language to convince them of the urgency to act: "Are you going to sit there and let a black son rape a white woman on the streets of Jefferson?"

McLendon seems to be echoing Iago, who uses compelling graphic imagery to convince others of his disgust at a black man's sexual encounter with a white woman. McLendon appeals to the anxiety of a white man who feels shaken by changes in the social hierarchy, as blacks are now able to occupy a higher position than before.

Q. 9. Give a pen picture of Miss Minnie Cooper's daily routine.

Ans. Miss Minnie Cooper was thirty-eight or thirty-nine. She lived in a small frame house with her paralysed mother and a thin, pale, staunch aunt. Each morning between ten and eleven, she would appear in the lobby in a lace-trimmed boudoir cap, sit swinging in the lobby, and swing until noon. She lay down for a while after dinner, until the afternoon began to cool. Then, in one of the three or four new voile dresses which she had bought each summer, she would go downtown to spend the afternoon in the stores with the other ladies, where they would handle the goods and bargain over the prices in emotionless, hurried voices, without any intention of buying.

She was from a comfortable family—not among the best-status families in Jefferson, but good people enough—and she was still on the attractive side of ordinary-looking, with a bright, faintly careworn manner and dress. When she was young, she had a slim, nervous body and a sort of hard vivacity that had enabled her, for a time, to ride at the top of the town's social life, as exemplified by the high-school party and church-social period of her contemporaries, while they were still children enough to be unclass-conscious.

Q. 10. Give a pen picture of the gradual degradation of Minnie Cooper's social reputation after the story "Dry September".

Ans. Miss Minnie was the last person to realise that she was losing her position; those among whom she had been a little brighter and more physically attractive than any other were beginning to learn the pleasure of male snobbery and female retaliation. That was when her face began to wear that bright, slim look. She still carried it to parties on shadowy porticoes and summer lawns, like a mask or a flag, with that bewilderment of furious renunciation of truth in her eyes. One evening at a party, she heard a boy and two girls, all schoolmates. Since then, she never accepted another invitation.

She watched the girls with whom she had grown up as they married and established homes and had children, but no man ever dated her steadily until the children of the other girls began to call her "aunty" for several years, while their mothers told them in bright voices about how popular Aunt Minnie had been as a girl.

Then the people of the town began to see her driving on Sunday afternoons with the cashier in the bank. He was a widower of about forty, a bright-coloured man, always smelling faintly of the pomades of a barbershop or of whisky. He was the owner of the first automobile in town, a red Runabout; Minnie had the first motoring bonnet and veil the town ever saw. Then the town began to comment: "Poor Minnie." "But she is mature enough to take care of herself," others said. That was when she began to ask her old schoolmates to have their children call her "cousin" instead of "aunty".

It was twelve years now since she had been degraded into adultery by public opinion, and eight years since the cashier had gone to a bank in Memphis, returning for one day each Christmas, which he used to spend at an annual bachelor's party at a hunting club on the river. The neighbours would see the party pass from behind their curtains, and during the over-the-way Christmas Day visiting they would tell Minnie about him, about how well he looked and how they heard that he was prospering in the city, watching with bright, stealthy eyes her tired but bright face. Usually, by that hour, there would be the scent of whisky on her breath. The whisky was supplied to her by a youth, a clerk at the soda fountain: "No doubt; I buy it for the old girl. I think she deserves a little fun."

Q. 11. Describe the encounter between McLendon's group and Will Mayes in front of the ice factory.

Ans. McLendon reached the ice factory with his men in two cars. Will Mayes worked there as a night watchman. They left the cars in darkness and waited inside while McLendon and Butch approached the factory, and McLendon called Will Mayes to come out.

They did not move until indistinct noises began to grow out of the darkness ahead; then they got out and waited anxiously in the breathless dark. There was another sound: a blow, a hissing expulsion of breath, and McLendon cursing under his breath. They stood a moment longer, then ran forward. They ran in a stumbling group, as though they were escaping something. "Kill him, kill the son," a voice whispered. McLendon threw them back. He asked them to force Will inside the car and take him to an abandoned kiln outside the town.

Mayes repeatedly insisted that he was innocent. Someone brought out handcuffs. They worked busily about the Negro as though he were a post, quiet and intent, getting in one another's way. He yielded to the handcuffs, looking swiftly and constantly from dim face to dim face. He leaned to peer into the faces until they could feel his breath and smell his sweaty smell. He spoke a name or two.

McLendon jerked the car door open and asked the Negro to get in. The Negro did not move. "What you all going to do with me, Mr John? I have done nothing. White folks, captains, I have done nothing; I swear before God." He called another name.

McLendon struck the Negro. The others forced out their breath in a dry hissing and struck him with random blows. Will whirled and cursed them, swept his handcuffed hands across their faces, and split the barber's lip. The barber struck him also. "Get him in there," McLendon said. They pushed at him. He ceased struggling and got in and sat quietly as the others took their places. He sat between Hawkshaw and the soldier, drawing his limbs in so as not to touch them, his eyes going swiftly and constantly from face to face. Butch clung to the running board. The car moved on. Hawkshaw nursed his mouth with his handkerchief.

Q. 12. Describe the experience of Hawkshaw after he jumped out of McLendon's car.

Ans. Hawkshaw began to pull the door of the car furiously. The soldier wanted to stop him, but Hawkshaw had already kicked the door open and swung onto the running board. The soldier leaned across Will Mayes and tried to catch him, but he had already jumped. The car went on without checking speed. The momentum pitched him crashing through dust-covered weeds, into the ditch. Dust puffed about him, and in a thin, dreadful crackling of sapless stems he lay choking and retching until the second car passed and disappeared. Then he stood up and limped on until he reached the high road and turned towards town, brushing at his clothes with his hands.

The moon was higher, riding high and clear of the dust at last, and after a while the town appeared beneath the dust. He went on, limping. Then he heard cars, and the glow of them increased in the dust behind him. He left the road and hid again in the weeds until they passed. Now McLendon's car came last. There were four people in it, and Butch was not on the running board.

The cars went on; the dust engulfed them; the glare and the sound died away. The dust of them hung for a while, but soon the eternal dust absorbed it again. Hawkshaw climbed back onto the road and limped on towards town.

Q. 13. Describe the talk of the town on the evening of the day on which Will Mayes was killed.

Ans. In the leaf-covered darkness, as Miss Minnie Cooper and her friends walked towards the square, Miss Minnie began to breathe deeply, resembling a swimmer preparing to dive, until she stopped trembling. The four of them walked slowly because of the terrible heat and out of concern for her. But as they came near the square, she began to tremble again, walking with her head up and her hands grasped at her sides. Their low and indistinct voices surrounded her, also possessing that feverish, glittering quality of their eyes.

They entered the square; she was in the centre of the group, frail in her fresh dress. She was trembling worse. Her movement was slower and slower, her head held up and her eyes bright in the careworn banner of her face. As they passed the hotel, the coatless drummers sitting in chairs along the stoned pavement looked around at her and said, "Look. Is that the woman? The one in pink in the middle." "Is that she? What did they do with the nigger? Did they?" "Surely. He's all right." "All right, is he really?" "Surely, he went on a little trip."

Then, in front of the drugstore, even the young men relaxing in the doorway tipped their hats and followed her with their eyes. The four went on, passing the lifted hats of the gentlemen, the suddenly ceased voices, attentive and protective. "Do you see?" the friends said. Their voices sounded like long, floating sighs of hissing exultation. "There's not a Negro on the square. Not one."

Q. 14. Describe Miss Minnie Cooper's unnatural behaviour in the theatre in "Dry September".

Ans. They reached the cinema hall. It was like a miniature fairyland, with its illuminated lobby and coloured lithographs of life caught in its terrible and beautiful modifications. Miss Minnie's lips began to sting. In the dark, when the film began, it would be all right; she could control the laughter so it would not waste away so fast and so soon. So she hurried on before the turning faces and the undertones of low astonishment, and they took their familiar places where she could see the passageway against the silver glare and the young men and girls coming in two and two against it.

The lights faded away; the screen glowed silver, and soon life began to unfold, beautiful and passionate and sad, while still the young men and girls entered, perfumed and murmuring in the half-dark, their paired backs in delicate and sleek outline, their slim, quick bodies awkward, divinely young, while beyond them the silver dream accumulated, inevitably on and on.

Miss Minnie began to laugh. In trying to suppress it, she made more noise than ever; heads of others began to turn to her. Still laughing, her friends raised her and led her out of the hall, and she stood on the stoned pavement, laughing on a high, sustained note, until the taxi came up and her friends helped her in.

Q. 15. How does the ending of "Dry September" expose the hypocrisy of John McLendon and the violence underlying the White Goddess concept?

Ans. It was midnight when McLendon drove up to his neat new house. The narrator describes it as "trim and fresh as a birdcage and almost as small, with its clean, green-and-white paint". McLendon locked the car, mounted the porch, and entered his house. His wife rose from a chair beside the reading lamp. McLendon stopped in the middle of the floor and stared at her until she looked down. He lifted his arm and, pointing to the clock, said to his wife, "Look at that clock."

Mrs McLendon stood before him, her face lowered, a magazine in her hands. Her face was pale, strained, and weary-looking. McLendon reacted with greater intensity: "Haven't I told you about sitting up like this, waiting to see when I come in?" Mrs McLendon feebly uttered, "John." Mrs McLendon laid the magazine down.

Poised on the balls of his feet, McLendon glared at her with his hot eyes and sweating face. He repeated again, "Didn't I tell you?" He went towards her. She looked up then. He caught her shoulder. She stood passive, looking at him. Mrs McLendon appealed, "Don't, John. I couldn't sleep... The heat; something. Please, John. You're hurting me." Almost hysterically, McLendon uttered, "Didn't I tell you?" He released her and half struck, half flung her across the chair, and she lay there and watched him quietly as he left the room.

McLendon, who killed to defend the honour of a white woman whom everybody thought had probably lied about being sexually attacked, brutally beats his wife for still being awake. Mrs McLendon's seemingly passive acceptance of her husband's abuse increases our sympathy for her. By ending the story with such a disturbing view of her as a victim, Faulkner reiterates the victimisation of many of his characters, most especially Will. Our final glimpse of McLendon is not of the heroic American decorated for valour, but of a mean, vicious, and violently sadistic bigot. Ironically, he kills a man to protect the so-called sanctity of Southern white women, yet he treats his own wife as a piece of property, to do with as he pleases. The White Goddess concept is an abstract ideal, and that is all it is—an ideal that fails miserably in real life.

Q. 16. Comment on the ending of the story "Dry September".

Ans. After returning at midnight to his new and neat house, McLendon finds his wife still awake. He becomes furious at this and torments his passive and devoted wife physically. He releases her and half strikes, half flings her across the chair, and she lies there and watches him quietly as he leaves the room. He goes on through the house, pulling off his shirt, and on the dark, veiled porch at the back he stands and wipes his head and shoulders with the shirt and throws it away. He takes the pistol from his hip and puts it on the table beside the bed, sits on the bed and removes his shoes, and stands up and takes off his trousers. He is sweating again already, and he leans down and searches furiously for the shirt. At last he finds it and mops his body again and, pressing his body against the dusty screen, stands panting. There is no movement, no sound, not even an insect. The dark world seems to lie stricken beneath the cold moon and the naked stars.

The last section of "Dry September" has not received much comment, perhaps rightly so. It gives an additional view of McLendon, whose wife is sitting up waiting for him when he arrives home. McLendon, who killed to defend the honour of a white woman whom everybody thinks probably lied about being sexually attacked, brutally beats his wife for still being awake. Our impression of him is confirmed, if confirmation was indeed needed. Thus we are faced with an important question: Why did Faulkner choose to conclude the story with this glimpse of McLendon?

The concluding paragraph, which depicts the sweating McLendon pressed against the dusty screen, panting in the heat, is perfect, a final return to the land of dust and drought summarising everything that has happened in the course of the story: "There was no movement, no sound, not even an insect. The dark world seemed to lie stricken beneath the cold moon and the lidless stars."

Perhaps by concentrating on McLendon, the final section encapsulates the basic tension of the story: the violence of the men, the passivity and fear of the women, and the wasted qualities of the world they live in. Yet Faulkner could have achieved the same effect, even enhanced it, if he had chosen a community point of view or returned to Hawkshaw while keeping the cosmic perspective.

By choosing this ending, Faulkner clearly signals the centrality of the role of women in this story and adds to his criticism of male brutality and stupidity. McLendon seems to be one of all the dead soldiers, accustomed to violence and action but now leading an inconsequential life in a small town where nothing happens. This does not, however, excuse him of anything: the text clearly condemns McLendon and the likes of him.