Point of View: Fualkner style.

Faulkner does play with point of view, but he doesn’t treat his characters equally. The shift in point of view is not a mere switching of perspective; it’s not that (sometimes gimmicky) resource were the purpose of switching is solely to “see” through the eyes of different characters. The narration is omniscient, but more so in Minnie’s sections than in those of the men.
When we see the barber, Butch and the other picturesque southern characters, Faulkner’s voice merely sets up the action, they carry the story with their dialogue. We know Butch because we see his sweat stains and hear his idiotic contributions to the conversation. Their interactions are vivid, the narration is then reduced to its most elementary function- telling us what’s happening, who’s getting on the car, who’s standing up, how their faces look. Occasional insight is dropped in sections I and III (“they looked like men of different races”), but for the most part the story is action-driven here.
Minnie doesn’t get the same treatment. In fact, in the second section of the story, it feels like she gets the short end of the stick- Faulkner won’t let her talk, which wouldn’t be so shocking if it weren’t for the importance given to dialogue in the first section.
In fact, we don’t even see her in real time, we only get a back-story that feels no more revealing than what the barber had to say earlier. Minnie is not yet real to us in real time, it’s not her part of the story but rather one about her. It almost feels gossipy: “Sure; I buy it for the old gal. I reckon she’s entitled to a little fun.” The passage reads like a documentary done without Minnie’s consent, one that pokes fun ever so slyly. By doing this, we become visitors of the town, being his readers doesn’t grant us the privilege of seeing her vividly, not yet.
It’s not until Minnie’s second part of the story that character analysis becomes part of the narration. Here, a shift occurs- suddenly, we’re not just hearing about Minnie but instead have earned that access as readers we yearned for earlier. Even if much of her remains in the dark, we at least spy on her as suppose to ask about her. Suddenly, we know her in a much more intimate way than the vivid characters in the other sections (e saw them as if bystanders in the town), a sensation we carry to the last part of the story, when we are shocked as readers at our intrusion in McLendon’s house. We never thought we could “see” him that way.