Faulkner and the language barrier.

Okay, I have to admit that I’ve read two non-Nobel laureate books between Neruda and now. I won’t apologize, Perez-Reverte deserves it, and besides, I’m only skipping ahead a little bit, as I’m sure that Don Arturo will win the prize, eventually.


I thought my English was good. I mean, I grew up in a Mexican border town, some of my college classes and most of my books were in English, I’ve been in this country for six years, I barely speak a word of Spanish on a normal day –unless it’s to myself- and I don’t watch TV in Spanish (they don’t have any good channels on cable), so I thought my English was good. Good enough. It all changed when I started reading Faulkner’s “As I lay dying”.

What?

Yes, that’s the only thing I can say about the book.

What?..