The narration by progression from one main character to another could be charted very precisely in the novel, as precisely, in fact, as the more obvious reuse of this technique by Faulkner in As I Lay Dying, where each shift is indicated for us by the name of the character. Furthermore, a careful study of the structure of the novel shows that, though Faulkner did in fact move the narrative forward by switching from narrative center to narrative center, he carefully blocked out the overall material of the novel into nine major units and it is this division into larger units that reveals the major concerns of the novel to us. Flags in the Dust was a much better made novel than the many editors who rejected it ever perceived it to be. Unit I—or all of the early part of the novel from pages 3 to 104—is really mainly concerned with the Old People and the blacks: that is, with old Bayard, old man Falls, Aunt Jenny, Simon and the other Sartoris blacks, and Dr. Peabody. Though the Old People and the blacks and their generally comic goings on are the main focus, Faulkner introduces, but does not develop, three of the other characters who will dominate the rest of the novel and give it its more serious concerns: Narcissa, Bayard, and Byron Snopes. It is Bayard’s return from the war that really starts the action of the novel in the present, just as it is his death that ends it. Parallel to this is the return of Horace and his marriage to Belle.
Unit II of the novel—pages 105 to 144—is primarily concerned with young Bayard and is a consecutive narrative which begins when he nearly scares Simon to death in the car, then goes into town and gets drunk with Rafe MacCallum, rides the wild stallion and has his accident, is taken back to town to have his head bandaged, but instead of going home, continues his drunken activities with Suratt and Hub, and later still, with Mitch, another drinking companion, and some Negro musicians, going around Jefferson serenading all of the single women in town, including Narcissa, and is finally put in jail for the night by the marshal. Up to this point in the novel, we have really known very little about young Bayard. We know him to be violent and somewhat sadistic (as with the episode in the car with Simon), we know him to be tormented and guilt-ridden—especially over the death of his brother. It is in Unit II that we see that there is more to young Bayard than this, and it is here, also, because of an interlude in the middle of the Unit devoted to Narcissa, that we get a clear foreshadowing of what will be the major focus of Unit IV—young Bayard and Narcissa.
Unit III—pages 145 to 199—is entirely devoted to Horace Benbow, to his relationship to his sister Narcissa, and to his relationship to Belle and the Mitchells. Horace is obviously the major male contrast to Bayard. Both return from the war, the one as a pilot, the other as a YMCA non-combatant. One is a tormented doomed man of action, the other is a troubled (not tormented) man of words. Both enter into relationships with women in the course of the novel, Horace with Belle, young Bayard with Narcissa, and both are defeated by the end of the novel, one by the woman and one by himself. Everything about these two male characters is contrasted in the novel, even the style in which their various Units is written, and the way in which each is defeated. Bayard returns and buys a racing car. Horace returns and takes up glass blowing. Horace returns seeking the “meaning of peace,” knowing probably that he won’t find it—especially when he leaves Narcissa for Belle—and Bayard returns, apparently seeking something that he missed or failed to achieve in the war: honor, a glorious death, victory in combat, something that would have satisfied his violent nature. Like every part of this novel, Unit III is very carefully constructed and masterfully written in a style that is appropriate to it. The focus is on Horace throughout, though we do get brilliant brief characterizations of Narcissa, the nature of her relationship to Horace, of Belle, and of vulgar Harry Mitchell. The Unit is filled with literary quotations and allusions, as would be appropriate to this Horatian character, and mostly depicts the slow, passive, apparently helpless succumbing of Horace to Belle’s sensuality. By the end of the Unit, Horace has abandoned his beloved and serene Narcissa for Belle, even though he knows it will not be a good marriage and that Belle will get fat and lose the very characteristics that attract him to her. Units II and III are probably the best examples in the novel of how Faulkner organizes his material in terms of narrative centers and limits the point of view and style to that narrative center—here Bayard, in Unit II, and Horace in Unit III. They are also fine examples of the violent contrast—in selves and style and material—that characterize this and so many other Faulkner novels.
Unit IV—pages 190 to 283—is primarily devoted to the relationship between Bayard and Narcissa. However, like Unit I, it makes use of multiple narrative centers and in this way finishes up most of the comical business having to do with old Bayard’s wen and brings the Byron Snopes-Narcissa part of the novel to its conclusion. What initiates and organizes the Unit is first of all another of Bayard’s accidents, this time the near fatal one where he turns over in the creek and is saved by the two Negroes. It is during his long convalescence with his broken ribs that the strange courtship between Narcissa and Bayard takes place. Almost against their wills, they fall in love (insofar as Bayard can fall in love), marry, and have what appears to be a happy tranquil relationship for a short period of time. This Unit ends, appropriately enough, with a conversation between Narcissa and Aunt Jenny about how Bayard has changed, but not changed, about how he does not really love anybody, even the baby Narcissa is carrying, and about how his driving of the car will never change. They know, as we know, and as Faulkner points out to us, that this period with Narcissa is nothing but an interlude, a delay in the inevitable progress of Bayard toward his appointed violent end.
Unit V—pages 283 to 299—follows the pattern already established and still to be repeated once more near the end of the novel, by taking us from Bayard and Narcissa to Horace. The focus is on Horace as he waits for Belle to get her divorce in Reno. Horace and Narcissa have their last meeting, and in his usual ironic and brutally accurate way, Horace summarizes the futility of his life and his helplessness to do anything about it. He knows what sort of a future he will have with Belle and tells Narcissa about it. Their day together over, she returns to Bayard and the Sartoris household. The second part of this Unit is devoted to the strange brief affair between Joan, Belle’s sister, and Horace. She has come to Jefferson, she says, to find out what he is like, and in a manner similar to his relationship to Belle, he succumbs to her aggressive sexuality until she leaves as abruptly and as mysteriously as she appeared. It is a puzzling episode because Joan is a kind of female Bayard whose violence and aggressiveness take a purely sexual form. Perhaps she is a purer embodiment of the motive that is intrinsic to Belle, and yet another example for us of Horace’s helpless passivity.
Unit VI—pages 299 to 338—return us to Bayard and begins very abruptly with yet another car accident. In an attempt to avoid another car on the muddy fall roads, Bayard is forced to drive off the road and down a steep bank near the graveyard—appropriately enough. It is during the descent that old Bayard has his heart attack and dies—just as Dr. Peabody and others said he would. From this point on to the end of the Unit, the focus is exclusively on Bayard. Faulkner does not have to tell us what Bayard’s response to the death of his grandfather is: we know it is in the same category as his response to the death of his twin brother and of his first wife and son. It adds more guilt and greater torment. When we see Bayard next, in this masterfully done Unit of the novel, he is riding his horse Perry to the MacCallums. He has begun his long flight, his futile attempt to escape his destiny, that will last until his death on June 20 in Dayton, Ohio six months later. It is December, and near Christmas. He goes to the MacCallums, who do not know of old Bayard’s death, and stays with this wonderful country family of non-destructive males long enough to hunt a bit and sort out what he will do. The stay with the MacCallums is unusual because we see none of the violence and destructiveness we know to be part of Bayard’s character. It is a peaceful, tranquil time, but clearly just another interlude, another delay in his relentless progress toward his inevitable doom. The MacCallums are clearly meant to be seen as a contrast to the Sartoris family, not just socially, but because the males do not have destruction bred into their genes—even those, who, like Bayard, have been to the war. When Bayard leaves, the day before Christmas, he has decided on flight and heads for the nearest train station. On his way