I do think that the hero’s journey can be found in William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying, even if the book’s fragmented, nonlinear style makes it harder to sift out. Faulkner’s use of multiple perspectives and stream-of-consciousness kind of is like a reimagination of the journey. The Bundrens’ journey to Jefferson to bury Addie mirrors key stages of Joseph Campbell’s classic hero’s journey, but in a way that feels messy, human, and flawed.
The “call to adventure” is a good starting point because it’s so reluctant. Addie’s death and her demand to be buried in Jefferson isn’t very grand or heroic. The Bundren's don’t necessarily want to take on this journey—they do it out of a mix of guilt, obligation, and family loyalty. This reluctance feels important because it sets the tone for everything that follows. Faulkner’s fragmented structure exemplifies this, as each character processes the call in different ways. Anse is self-centered and lazy (I genuinely hate him), while Cash pours his energy into building the coffin, focusing on his craft as a way to process his grief. Jewel is committed (almost overly so) to his devotion, and Darl’s perspective starts falling apart from the very beginning.
Once the journey starts, things just get more and more complicated. The “crossing the threshold” moment, where they leave home, doesn’t feel like a grand departure but more like stumbling out into a world full of obstacles. The river crossing is a good example: it’s chaotic and dangerous, but also frustrating for the family and kind of embarrassing that it took them so long just to cross a river.
What’s interesting is how Faulkner layers the journey’s “trials”. There’s the obvious external challenges—Cash breaking his leg, the wagon almost getting swept away, and the barn fire—but there’s more happening internally. Everyone is grieving in their own way (except Darl probably), and no one really knows how to support each other. Faulkner’s fragmented style makes it feel like we’re inside their heads, and that chaos is just as challenging as the physical obstacles they face. Vardaman’s chapters, for example, are so raw and disjointed because he’s just a traumatized kid trying to make sense of death. His repeated line, “My mother is a fish,” is strangely profound to me. It kind of reflects how incomprehensible the whole situation is for him.
I think the “abyss” moment is when Darl is sent to an institution. Instead of a triumph or resolution, it feels like everything falls apart here. Darl, who has been one of the main narrators, is taken away, and the family’s fragile sense of unity is shattered.
I haven’t quite finished the book yet, so I’m not entirely sure if there’s a clear resolution, but based on the pace and tone of this novel, it’s probably not going to be a very happy or satisfying ending. Faulkner doesn’t give us a traditional hero’s journey—instead, we’re given a story that’s unresolved and rather human. It’s not really about glory or transformation but about how flawed and complicated people navigate loss and obligation. The hero’s journey is there, but it’s less grand and more grounded.
