ABSTRACT
In his distinguished career Mr. Faulkner has not written a more thoroughly satisfyingnovel than The WildPalms. He has been unusually sensitive to manner of expression and extraordinarily persistent in technical experimentation. Since he has at the same time insisted upon grappling with significant themes, his work has either presented the obvious flaws ofconstruction ofLight inAugust or achieved a form, like that of The Sound and theFury, almost incomprehensible to the average reader. But in this latest novel he has come very near the successful expression he has been groping for. It not only reads easily; it grips the attention.
