A Story About Bill (as in Faulkner)

Book lovers will enjoy a wonderful story that I heard last night from Robert Wilson, an antiquarian bookseller who owned the legendary Phoenix Bookstore in Greenwich Village for many years.

Wilson used to summer on Fire Island and was in the habit of coming off the beach for cocktails on the decks of friends’ houses as the sun set. He said that he had known a particular fellow for several summers through these get-togethers, a quiet man who belatedly learned that he was a bookseller.

One afternoon this fellow casually mentioned that he had something that Wilson might be interested in.

Wilson said that he grimaced because such solicitations seldom amounted to anything.

“It’s some Faulkner,” the fellow explained.

Wilson grimaced again because that almost always meant a tattered paperback by the great American fiction writer that was of no interest or value.

“Bill and I roomed together in college at Ole Miss,” the fellow continued.

Wilson said he felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. He flushed and his breathing became labored.

“At the end of our freshman year, Bill was cleaning out his desk and threw a box of papers into the waste paper basket. I retrieved it and still have it somewhere. Would you like to see it?”

Wilson gasped that he would.

Back in the city a few days later, the fellow brought by a large shirt box.

Wilson opened it with trepidation.

Inside was the complete typewritten manuscript of Faulkner’s first novel with handwritten annotations by the great man himself, along with a rejection letter from a literary agent and an alternate final chapter. There also were five unpublished short stories and some love letters.

“Do you think they’re worth anything?” the fellow asked.

Wilson, trying to conceal his shock, replied,“Well, how much do you want for them?”

The fellow thought for a moment.

“Enough to take a vacation to Portugal. Are they worth that much?”

“My God, man,” Wilson gushed. “You can buy Portugal!”

(A footnote: Wilson bought the papers from his Fire Island acquaintance and sold them to the New York Public Library, where they are part of that institution’s superb collection of the Nobel laureate’s work and can be seen today.)