By William Van O'Connor (excerpt from "History in 'A Rose for Emily'," in A Rose for Emily by William Faulkner, edited by M. Thomas Inge, Charles E. Merrill Publishing Company, 1970.)
[Stressing] or rather over-stressing historical and sociological, or regional, aspects of Faulkner's fiction, even when the mythic qualities are acknowledged, leads to distorting the more basic intention of many, perhaps most, of the stories—to reading them somehow as documents in a legendary history of the South. (I am not of course trying to say that one can ignore these aspects. They are inevitably and powerfully interwoven with the themes; they may have brought some of the themes sharply to his consciousness; and certainly the regional characteristics modify and qualify the ways in which the themes are developed.) Perhaps a review of Ray West's account of "A Rose for Emily" will indicate the dangers in the "historical" emphasis. West reads the story as a conflict between the values of the Old South and the new order, business-like, pragmatic, self-centered. But it can't be read in these terms because the Old South and the new order are merely a part of the flavor and tone of the story, not the poles of conflict. The theme is that a denial of normal emotions invites retreat into a marginal world, into fantasy. The severity of Miss Emily's father was the cause of her frustrations and her retreat. The past becomes a part of her fantasies, just as the present does. It is incidental that her relationship to the Old South makes her a part of the town's nostalgia; it was the nostalgia; not her being a "lady," which caused her to be treated reverently by the town's board when she refused to acknowledge her taxes: presumably even ladies paid their taxes in the Old South. If the conflict is between the two orders it seems curious indeed that Miss Emily would choose Homer Barron, Yankee, amoral, and without loyalty, as her beloved. And her murder of the new order, Homer Barron, is the reverse of what actually happened, the destruction of the old order by the new. The story is simple enough when read as an account of Miss Emily's becoming mad as a consequence of her frustrations, the denial to her of normal emotional relations. That the Old South, which as a physical presence (in its houses, memories, and so on) lingers in the new order and in doing so seems unreal. has its parallel, obviously, in Miss Emily, who was most strangely detached from reality. But this is a parallel only—it is not the dramatic pull or struggle that composes the action.