Does it ever bother you when you read a novel and can’t seem to understand what the title means?  One would think that a poetic title would find its derivation somewhere in the story and (at the very least) hinted at somewhere between the dedication and “The End.”

But this is so often not the case.  At least not overtly.  I know, I know.  That’s what makes it literature.  You have to think (the voice of my high school English teacher echoes in my head still today).  But you also have to study, which is what I did in the case of Light In August. At first, I thought I knew what it meant, “light in August.”  I recalled a passage in the book when Joe Christmas (while dealing with his decision to kill Miss Burden) could see the street lights from his midnight perch.  Was this about redemption?  Hope?  Was it even still August when this took place in the story?  I could have forced Faulkner into that box of interpretation, I suppose.  But what I couldn’t reconcile was how this seemed so insignificant.  At least not title-significant.  So I reserved judgement till the end of the novel, thinking I might find a clue. 

Now, perhaps I’m showing my cards a bit here.  And perhaps you’re holding the same hand.  Are you like me?  Do you enjoy literature but sometimes tire of having to think so hard just to enjoy a good book?  Do you sometimes question your intellegence because you just didn’t get it and had to refer Cliff and his notes to even understand?

Well welcome to the club. 

I found the answer (like so many times before) at Wikipedia.  As it turns out, the original title for Light in August was actually “Dark House.”  Now THIS makes sense.  The Burden place with its adjacent cabin and family cemetary just outside town where everyone believed Miss Burden to be safe but where she was eventually killed.  So much and so little takes place in and around this house.  “Dark House,” is a great title.  (NB: Apparently, this was also the working title for Absalom, Absalom.) 

So why make the change?  Having never lived (or spent any amount of considerable time) in Mississippi, I was not aware of the strange quality of light one could see during the month of August.  I was also unaware that “light” was a slang term for pregnant.  Perhaps this term is used in this context somewhere in the novel, but I do not remember.  But it seems that Faulkner’s wife remarked one evening about the light, which led the author to literally run to his manuscript and promptly change the title.

Hmmm.  Light and dark.  White and black.  Life and death.  Love and hate.  Who we are, who we want to be.  All these things come to pass in the strange light of a Mississippi August as events unfold surrounding the birth of a little baby.

Now that makes sense.