Belated road-trip post: Visiting the home of William Faulkner (and its lizard friends)

Ex-English major and English grad student to be Sara conversed with William as if she'd known him for ages.

I’m a writer. I’ve never been to Oxford, Mississippi. I’m in Oxford, Mississippi. A visit to Rowan Oak, the home of William Faulkner, is a must do. And so daughters Sara and Anna and I did.

I learned surprising things at Rowan Oak and in Oxford. How William Faulkner planned the story arc of A Fable. How at home Eastern Fence Lizards are on the Faulkner property. How at nearby Ole Miss, the University of Mississippi, female undergrads all wear the same thing, and for a good reason.

First was a visit to the Oxford town square for photos with the great man himself. Faulkner graciously consented to shot after shot, never once showing a hint of impatience. But he was quiet to a fault, forcing us to do all the talking. Sara went on and on. We tried luring her away with promises of old, independent bookstore delights to come, then a friendly cat on the sidewalk ahead (a known weakness of hers). When these didn’t work, we resorted to the magic words “handmade jewelry” and were soon on our way. It wasn’t to Rowan Oak. Taking in Oxford’s charming downtown square and side streets, and their many shops with interesting stuff we didn’t need but felt the traveler’s urge to buy, left us tuckered out.

Pipe tobacco and ashtray, book to waste time in, broken lamp, trusty typewriter - everything the diligent writer needs.

(Long ago, the noun form of “tucker” meant lace or linen worn in or around the top of a bodice or as an insert at the front of a low-cut dress, an historical tidbit I knew you’d want to know ever since I discovered it [moments ago].)

Late the next morning, we went to Rowan Oak, a grand home with all the characteristics one would associate with a great Southern writer. Tree-lined approach. White clapboard siding. Stacked front porches with tall columns. And a variety of dependencies. (That’s Southern for “outbuildings.”) From all appearances, Rowan Oak is virtually unchanged from Faulkner’s time. Not surprising, really; no one’s lived in the place for decades. As such, Rowan Oak is both museum-like and a tad depressing. Maybe two tads.

But even so, here was the front parlor where William Faulkner wrote such novels as Absalom, Absalom!, Go Down, Moses, and Intruder in the Dust; the black rotary phone in a dining room-to-kitchen passageway where he received the news that he’d won The Nobel Prize for Literature 1949; the writing room he had added to the house when (and because) his wife was traveling in Hawaii; the living room where he laid in state.

Another Oxford discovery was that Taylor Grocery & Restaurant, famous for its catfish dinners, isn't in Oxford. It's eight miles away. And it's closed on Wednesday, and the least prepossessing restaurant I've ever laid eyes on.

Faulkner’s writing room held the most interest for me. He wrote at a small desk, a simple desk lamp his only illumination. (At least when the lamp wasn’t broken as it is now.) On three walls was a handwritten, day-to-day timeline of A Fable, the novel that won both the Pulitzer Prize and a National Book Award in 1954. Faulkner also used a metal plant stand for a desk when he wrote outside. Where was it? In the attic, the guide said.

Where had Anna gone? I found her outside leaning over a fence, looking down at a rotten stump, transfixed. The stump’s center, collapsed in, was teeming with termites. Hopping in and out of this woody caldera was one small lizard after another gorging itself on the all-you-can-eat termite buffet. “Just how do you know these are Eastern Fence Lizards?” I said to the family biologist. Anna held up her iPhone, proving that the insane amount of money we pay Verizon each month was worth it for on-the-spot field research.

As for those Ole Miss female students, Sara and Anna noticed how all of them had on the same attire: short gym shorts so short that an oversized T-shirt drew into question their presence. We stopped a student and asked her why. “It gets pretty hot here in Mississippi,” she said.

On her blog, Anna wrote, "But what caught our attention the most on campus was not the buildings, greenery, or monuments. It was the outfits that almost every single caucasian girl was wearing: Nike shorts and a large tee."







    • Nothing more to divulge. Female Ole Miss undergrads were girls in giant T-shirts of every description, backpacks, and athletic shoes, their gym shorts occasionally in view. So many were dressed that way is was comical. Three photos from Anna’s blog will illustrate. I’ll add them to the post as an update.

  1. I love visitng authors’ houses–seeing melville’s Arrowhead was akin to a religious experience for me, more so than visiting Twain’s house in Hartford, CT. I look forward to the day when your house will similarly be preserved and we can visit your writing room.

    • Every blogger should have a repeat commenter who sends such kind and heartfelt wishes his or her way. (No, I can’t bring myself to use “their” with a singular referent.) But then too many bloggers do not deserve such unalloyed praise and, sadly for them, attract the pot-metal commentariat.

  2. I’m thinking how great your “(t)rusty” MacBook will look in the yet-to-be-open, but ever so historic Tisdalian diorama: George Tisdale Stopped Writing Here

    • From “Can’t Stop Writing” to “Stopped Writing here,” yes, that would have to be the spot where I dropped dead. You envision this as a shrine, I take it? I can see how that would work, provided I become famous first. A tall order, but I’ll have you know I have copies of “Dare To Be A Great Writer” by Leonard Bishop, “How To Write Best Selling Fiction” by Dean R. Koontz, and “Writing The Breakout Novel” by Donald Maass — and all in hardback, too.

  3. Ok, George- this was great- now I won’t have to fly/drive all the way to Miss to see Faulkner’s place- feel like Ive been there and done that. Plus all the really interesting stuff I might have missed- the lizards, the Ole Miss fashions- (got my summer wardrobe all worked out thanks to you), love the cat on your hat picture. But- would really, really love to see Faulkner’s timeline for the Fable- bet I can Google that-thanks for the telling, enjoyed it. D

    • Anna has a photo of the timeline – he wrote it directly on the wall when taped sheets of paper kept falling off – on her blog at The story occurs over a week’s time, hence the day-by-day breakdown. It started on one wall and continued onto the next. The last entry is on the nearest wall you see, but on the other side of a door that’s out of sight.

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