Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West (Vintage International series) by Cormac McCarthy. Read online, or download in secure EPUB format. Editorial Reviews. preckalohotchning.gq Review. "The men as they rode turned black in the sun from Part of the The Novels of Cormac McCarthy (10 Book Bundle). "The fulfilled renown of Moby-Dick and of As I Lay Dying is augmented by Blood Meridian, since Cormac McCarthy is the worthy disciple both of.
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Read "Blood Meridian Or the Evening Redness in the West" by Cormac McCarthy available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first download. Descargá gratis el libro Blood Meridian - An epicnovel of the violence and depravity that attended America's westwardexpansion, Blood Meridian brilliantly . "The fulfilled renown of Moby-Dick and of As I Lay Dying is augmented by Blood Meridian, since Cormac McCarthy is the worthy disciple both download the Ebook.
I have not tried Suttree or Child of God, but they would have a hard time to top this one! View all 15 comments. Jul 18, Lyn rated it it was amazing.
After reading Blood Meridian, I may never view a western film the same way again. To be certain, it is a masterpiece, a rare and unique work of literature that rises above classification and genre. And to be certain, McCarthy must be viewed as a great American writer, one of the greatest in our time. That having been said, this book is not for everyone; it is painfully brutal, violent at it's heart. McCarthy's primitive writing style emphasizes this primal, bloody landscape like a Jonathon Edwar After reading Blood Meridian, I may never view a western film the same way again.
McCarthy's primitive writing style emphasizes this primal, bloody landscape like a Jonathon Edwards sermon. Glanton and Judge Holden, based upon actual persons, have been written as archetypal villains. The Judge may be a composite of Mephistopheles and Conrad's Mr. Kurtz, and perhaps even Richard III.
Strong, powerful book. View all 29 comments. This is Jane Austen antimatter. Trying to convey how this was so different to anything I've ever read, it occurred to me that it was like a huge black vortex that would suck early nineteenth century marriage plot novels into the void.
It's the complete obverse of sweet girlie stuff: If he does, he certainly wasn't in it writing this , no insightful self-discovery or examination of the human heart. No, this is bleak and bloody, go This is Jane Austen antimatter. No, this is bleak and bloody, gory and grisly, there are bludgeonings and beheadings, shootings and stabbings and skewerings and scalpings, and piles and piles and piles of corpses - as a film, I wouldn't have been able to stand it.
How could I stand it here? Well, it was usually over pretty quickly. He doesn't dwell long and lovingly on every detail: Nasty, brutish and short. Stomach churning, but not for too long.
Then there is little in the way of plot. Bad, worse, or imbecile. So what pleasures does it afford, pleasures that can compensate for the horror? Or is it the horror that becomes pleasurable? Yes, that is the worrying thing - obviously the language is a wonder and can make up for much, but there is a very troubling phenomenon.
The reader begins to take on the reasoning of the charismatic, satanic Judge Holden: There is only life or death, nothing else. And the Glanton gang is so evil that we can take joy in their annihilation, and the kid is the only one who has shown the slightest faint scruple when it came to slaughtering, so we hope for his survival and follow keenly his fight for life. And did I mention the language? Majestic, portentous, weighty, reminiscent of Milton and Blake and the Bible. Sparse, terse dialogue.
Sumptuous description. A fearless novel that shocks and troubles, especially when you realise that this is based on real events on the Texas borderlands in View all 88 comments. Sep 07, Eric rated it it was ok Recommends it for: There are two ways to evaluate a book, as far as my unlearned mind can concoct at the moment.
Stylish literary flourishes sometimes cloud our judgment when it comes to evaluating the plot itself, which is, after all, the reason why the book exists. This book is well written. If I'm a 11th grader, and I need to do a book report, I'm drooling over the blatant symbolism dripping from each page.
The scene is set admirably, though the repetitive nature of our brave hero's wanderings at least it's wit There are two ways to evaluate a book, as far as my unlearned mind can concoct at the moment. The scene is set admirably, though the repetitive nature of our brave hero's wanderings at least it's with symbolic reason lead to a paucity in novel adjectives by the 13th desert crossing.
There are only so many ways one can say that it's hot, dry and empty. And dry. Boy, that sun sure is strong. I'm there, I'm with you, all right, it sucks around here, phew, the sun's really beating down today. And there are a lot of bones. Dead things abound, OK, I get it. Then there's the story line. Explain to me again why I'm interested in the wanton marauding of a band of depraved demons?
So, we enjoy the dashing of infants into rocks because of the supposed literary merits of the work? But, you say and without quotes you say it , that's what it was like.
Oh yeah? It was like that? Says who? Why do you want to believe that it was like that? As bad as humankind is, our reality is not that despicable, though our souls may be. Why do we have to play follow the leader behind our impish pied piper, pretending an enlightened understanding of some grandiose truth, while all we really do is sate our own personal blood lusts?
I wonder. By the way, if neglecting quotation marks somehow makes the book classier, why not just go all out and remove spaces between words. You better believe I won't be speed reading the repetitive descriptions of how tired everyone is if there aren't any spaces.
Why stop there, periods are for two bit hacks too. You're not a real author until you slaughter a few hundred non-innocents nay, no one is innocent while neglecting a basic courtesy to the reader. Who knows, I don't speak Spanish, maybe I'm just missing the point entirely. How do you say "flayed skin" in Spanish? View all 31 comments. May 18, Fabian rated it it was amazing. Cormac McCarthy's west of absolutes is a wonder to behold. Villainous attacks on people devoid a home, desecration of the westland, listings of all things in the majestic, transitory landscape like observations by Darwin at the Galapagos in lush sometimes horrific detail, murky human psyches, no dialogue, and especially that campfire philosophy by which anyone can find some sort of meaning in their modern lives especially if you're fortunate enough to inhabit the places which Mr.
McCarthy des Cormac McCarthy's west of absolutes is a wonder to behold. McCarthy describes! The apocalyptic landscape of "The Road" is here, but it's thankfully not as literal as that novel about human annihilation after cataclysm.
If you were shocked by the cannibals eating babies in that one This ultraviolent account is well researched, well versed, poetic. The "Blood Meridian" and the act of scalping are one: My favorite line: Sometimes comes the mother. Sometimes comes the wolf View all 7 comments. The wiki page for 'manifest destiny' has a picture of a painting by John Gast depicting an angelic figure personification of America purposefully drifting towards the west, her pristine white robes and blonde curls billowing in the breeze, a book nestled in the crook of her arm.
Airborne, she awakens stretches of barren, craggy terrain to the magical touch of modernization. The landscapes she leaves behind are dotted by shipyards and railways and telegraph wires strung on poles but to her left The wiki page for 'manifest destiny' has a picture of a painting by John Gast depicting an angelic figure personification of America purposefully drifting towards the west, her pristine white robes and blonde curls billowing in the breeze, a book nestled in the crook of her arm.
The landscapes she leaves behind are dotted by shipyards and railways and telegraph wires strung on poles but to her left the canvas shows a murky abyss - skies darkened by smoke from volcanic eruptions and fleeing native Americans gazing up at the floating angel in alarm.
Whenever I think of 'Blood Meridian' from now on, I hope my mind conjures up this same image not because both painting and novel provide perspectives, albeit contrary, on America's ambitious mid 19th century pursuit of extending its frontiers.
But because Cormac McCarthy destroys this neat little piece of Imperialist propaganda so completely and irredeemably in his masterpiece, that all viewings of the image henceforth will merely serve to magnify the irony of this representation. If John Gast's visualized panorama seeks to establish the legitimacy of the American Dream, vindicates the Godgiven right of determining the foundations of civilization, then McCarthy's vision of 'American Progress' brutally mocks the same and depicts the wild west as a lawless hunting ground submerged in a moral vaccuum.
Here, there is no line of distinction between predator and prey. Heads are scalped, entrails ripped out, limbs dismembered, ears chopped off as trophies of war. Apaches, Mexicans, Caucasian men, women and children are skewered, bludgeoned, crucified and raped alike and so routinely and relentlessly that after a while the identities of victim and perpetrator blur into each other and only a dim awareness of any moral consideration remains at the periphery of our consciousness.
The barrel of the gun and the sharpness of the blade speak in the universal language of might over right and all humanly attributes are silenced into submission. The wrath of God lies sleeping. It was hid a million years before men were and only men have power to wake it.
Hell aint half full. Hear me. Ye carry war of a madman's making onto a foreign land. Ye'll wake more than the dogs. There are no protagonists here. Only creatures of instinct shambling along sun-scorched sand dunes, mesas and buttes, pueblos and haciendas, gravel reefs and dusty chaparrals, oblivious of the passage of time or the context of their grotesque exploits, unhesitatingly leaving a trail of mutilated corpses, carcasses and torched Indian villages in their wake.
Jaded as one becomes from all the savagery, one does occasionally feel some measure of empathy for 'the kid' but then he vanishes often among the featureless, faceless individuals of Glanton's gang of scalp-hunters as they embark on a destination-less journey across the cruel, hostile terrain of the US-Mexican borderlands. In course of their blood-soaked, gory quest which McCarthy chronicles in exquisite turns of phrase, the identities of all the members of the band fuse together to symbolize something much more profound and terrible to comprehend all at once - the primeval human affinity for bloodshed which devours all distinctness of personality.
Only the ageless Judge Holden towers over the other characters as the Devil's advocate with his lofty oratory on the primacy of war and his unabashed exhibitionism and seeming invincibility. It is the testing of one's will and the will of another within that larger will which because it binds them is therefore forced to select. War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence. War is god.
In the last few pages when the Kid and the Judge parley in a sort of face off, I finally came to realize the real reason why the former is deprived of his centrality in the plot and relegated to the status of a mute presence in the background.
As the eternal representative of the debilitating voice of morality which is always drowned out by fiercer cries for carnage, the Kid's internal sense of right and wrong, too, fails to resist the evil within.
The Devil's cogent arguments, no matter how preposterous at times, negate all sporadic pricks of conscience. The way of the world is to bloom and to flower and die but in the affairs of men there is no waning and the noon of his expression signals the onset of the night. Needless to say, this is the grim rationale that underpins all the interminable slaughter.
And such a solemn message leaves one with a lingering suspicion that if we peeled away the glossy veneer of democracy, modernity and the daily grind of mechanistic endeavours and reduced any society of humans to its bare bones, McCarthy's apocalyptic vision of an amoral world is the only thing that might remain - a perpetual heart of darkness.
A conjecture as staggering in its enormity as it is bone-chilling. Perhaps, a conjecture with a modicum of truth to it. View all 46 comments. View all 4 comments. Aug 16, J. Kent Messum rated it it was amazing Shelves: Quite possibly the most chilling and horrifying book ever written, 'Blood Meridian' is a unnerving glimpse of humanity at its worst during one of the most savage periods in American history.
McCarthy pulls back the curtain to reveal the unforgivable evils and trespasses our species made all too often and all too easily in a new world, a novel that shows us the true price we paid in bodies and blood for the expansion of the 'Wild West'. Unlike some of Cormac's other work, 'Blood Meridian' is not Quite possibly the most chilling and horrifying book ever written, 'Blood Meridian' is a unnerving glimpse of humanity at its worst during one of the most savage periods in American history.
Unlike some of Cormac's other work, 'Blood Meridian' is not a particularly easy read for either style or subject matter. If your want to experience the work of this true literary master, I certainly wouldn't start with this book Try 'The Road', or 'No Country For Old Men' to get your feet wet.
Generally, I only advocate that people read well-written work that is fluid, pacey, and has total command of the language. But there are a handful of exceptions where I honestly believe that a good deal of effort is also required from the reader. You will have to work to get through the pages, but it is rewarding in ways you might not anticipate. The brutality in this book is harrowing, and also true of the time. There have been countless analyses of it, so I won't get into the many themes, messages, and interpretations it offers.
I will say that it does fall under the category of 'required reading' for everyone. However, it must be said that this book was not written for anyone's enjoyment. It wasn't written for entertainment. It was written to open your eyes to a hell on earth that humans willingly created, to open your ears to the beating of black hearts.
If this book doesn't shake your faith in the human race, then nothing will. Check out my other selections: View all 20 comments. Mar 27, Dan Schwent rated it really liked it Shelves: In the old west, a young man falls in with a bad crowd, scalphunters, and the worst of them all, the judge. It's not often when I can't figure out how to summarize a book.
Not only does Blood Meridian fall into this category, I'm also struggling with trying to formulate my thoughts about it. I'm sure it's one of those big important books that has themes and things of that nature. It seems apocalyptic at times, with the judge showing the kid the horrors of the world, kind of like the devil and Jes In the old west, a young man falls in with a bad crowd, scalphunters, and the worst of them all, the judge.
It seems apocalyptic at times, with the judge showing the kid the horrors of the world, kind of like the devil and Jesus in the desert. Cormac McCarthy's prose is simple but powerful. It also feels really smooth, like he barely had to work at it at all to get it on the page. It has an almost Biblical feel to it. Once the kid hooks up with the judge and the Glantons, things get worse and worse, like getting kicked in the crotch by progressively more spiky shoes.
There were a lot of times during my read of Blood Meridian where I had to stop and digest what I just read. It had a dreamlike, or nightmarish, quality a lot of the time. The judge is by far the most memorable character in the piece.
The book really doesn't have much of a plot, just scene after scene of brutal violence. I read a lot of detective stuff but this was one of the most violent books I've ever read. I could only read it for minutes at a time before I had to stop and digest.
Lastly, what's with the lack of quotation marks? Was McCarthy sexually assaulted by quotation marks while he was a boy scout? Four stars, but not for the squeamish. If you have any amount of squeam in you, you'll be squeaming all over the place in no time. View all 28 comments. Brutal and Poetic at the same time Just changed it to a five star, what the h This book is monumental. Seems like a contradiction, brutal and poetic, but somehow it works.
The story is bleak, dark, bloody but also filled with beautiful descriptions of the countryside, the desert, the people in the book. The colorful Judge is some character. Tough book, not sure I took it all in and had to take some breaks during the read It was ev Brutal and Poetic at the same time It was evening of the following day when they entered San Diego.
The expriest turned off to find them a doctor but the kid wandered on through the raw mud streets and out pas the houses of hide in their rows and across the gravel strand to the beach Loose strands of ambercolored kelp lay in a rubbery wrack at the tideline. A dead seal. Beyond the inner bay part of a reef in a thin line like something foundered there on which the sea was teething. He squatted in the sand and watched the sun on the hammered face of the water.
Out there island clouds emplaned upon a salmon colored othersea. Seafowl in silhouette. Downshore the dull surf boomed. There was a horse standing there staring out upon the darkening waters and a young colt that cavorted and trotted off and came back Based on historical events that took place on the Texas-Mexico border in the s, we follow and witness the grim and bloody coming of age of the Kid, a fourteen-year-old Tennessean who stumbles into a nightmarish world where Indians are murdered and the market for scalps is thriving They rode on and the sun in the east flushed pale streaks of light and then a deeper run of color like blood seeping up in sudden reaches flaring planewise and where the earth drained up into the sky at the edge of creation the top of the sun rose out of nothing like the head of a great read phallus until it cleared the unseen rim and sat squat and pulsing and malevolent behind them.
The shadows of the smallest stones lay like pencil lines across the sand and the shapes of the men and their mounts advanced elongate before them like strands of the night from which they'd ridden, like tentacles to bind them to the darkness yet to come.
They rode with their heads down, faceless under their hats, like an army asleep on the march. By midmorning another man had died and they lifted him from the wagon where he'd stained the sacks he'd lain among and buried him also and road on View all 26 comments.
Nov 17, Michael rated it it was amazing Shelves: Yes, you're probably right. Butchering them. That's the right word. Anyway, since Cormac McCarthy has the most distinctive and powerful voice of any modern writer that I've read recently in my opinion , I pose the question: How would it have ended up?
I think this is an important enough question to begin a new writing project, or, at the least, write a Goodreads review pretending I'm going to. First, we have to establish these new versions of the classics will be stylized after McCarthy's Western Novels, starting with Blood Meridian and ending with Cities of the Plain.
Blood Meridian (Kobo eBook)
Characteristics include: Although there's more to his style than this, we can take this as the most bare-essential aspects of what is necessary to properly "translate" a novel into its McCarthy version. As an example, let's take a certain scene from Pride and Prejudice. How about the one where Lady Catherine is quizzing Elisabeth about whether D'arcy has indeed proposed to her?
They're alone, walking in the garden although in the McCarthy version, they would be walking upon a windswept moor. Here we go: A raven perched upon the fallen branch of an elm and watched them with one jet eye.
Lady Catherines hands grasped nervously at nothing as she looked across the moor. Young women of unfortunate birth shouldnt attempt to reach beyond their station. Don't pretend you don't know of what I speak. Eliza spat and turned away. She walked into the doorway of a church.
Inside dozens of bodies lay heaped upon the floor. Blood hard and dried like clay caked upon the stone of the floor. Flies traversed upon the eyelids of a child that stared blankly at Eliza who turned away.
Los Muchachos estan muerto.
Eliza brushed her hair back. All of the constrictions you place upon mans actions are nothing to the ineffable stretch of the world which knows that all is war. No system of morality is anything but pretense which the least of gods vile beasts can shatter simply through the act of killing for its survival.
Morality holds no water when it stands eye to eye with stark reality. Lady Catherine spat and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. Its damn cold. Wait which of us said that? I did. I wont promise I would never accept a proposal if I dont think its ever to be given.
Nor can I swear as to what I would do in a situation that Ive never known myself to be in.
Well arent you a contrary little whore. Lady Catherine spat. Ill not forget how youve treated me this day. Her finger moved closer to the knife that hung at her hip. Raising heavy to his feet and stretching he ambled forward dust raising an etherial plume in the nightair like ghosts of sinners dwelling on the threshold of the dark.
We don't mind sleepin outside. No really I got plenty room. Cmon in. The angels came in bare feet on the packed dirt covered with indescribable years of footprints crisscrossed into an impossible to fathom reckoning of feet stretching back through indescribable years. So many feet and such a dirty floor. They warshed up and ate. Figures in stillness, nooses dangling from withered hands and that dust rising like the dead pounding from the other side of eternity trying to return trying to be unforsaken from the temporal purgatory the men dwelt in.
Who them men we saw with them white robes. Not til we know who them fugitives is you harborin. They aint niggers is they. Didn't you see they white robes. They aint no niggers. Lot walked out the house into that humidity the wind like the word of God drifting with threats of retribution and reckoning.
Tell you what, men, you better get back on home and mind ya damn business. This aint no affair of yourn. The Willis boy had a strapon fixed to his forehead pointing up accusingly at the heavens an erection of defiance. He wore that collar that said Slave as always.
He was danglin handcuffs from his hand like like a hypnotist without a pocketwatch. We just wanna see um. We just wanna meet um. Maybe have a little fun with um. Tell you what boys. I invited them men into my house and I wont have them mistreated but I got them two good fer nothin daughters. You leave my visitors alone Ill bring them on out.
What fer. Whatever yall find fittin. It aint fer me to say. Just leave my visitors alone. Okay, apparently it's not easy to write in Cormac McCarthy's style without sucking.
So, if anyone runs into Cormac, let him know about this project, and how important it is for him to get to work right away.
After all, there are lots of classics. I believe he lives in New Mexico. So, if you're wandering through a dark, dank cave and hear the sounds of typewriter keys pounding away, you've probably found his lair. Approach slowly, and don't make eye contact. I suppose, while I'm at it, I could say something about Blood Meridian. I hate giving five star ratings, probably because I'm so curmudgeonly. But, for the third time, McCarthy is making me give him one.
I just can't find anything to fault here, and the story is different from any I've ever read before. The writing is amazing, the characters are good although the Judge fits a certain fiction stereotype, he's a very memorable version of it , and I was startled by the horror of it all.
Which was the intention, or I think it was at any rate. This is the horrifying story of a group who are being paid to hunt down injuns and scalp them. Over time, the bloodlust of the group grows and they begin scalping those they're intended to be saving, and basically everyone they come across. When it comes time to be paid for the scalps, the scalps all look the same anyway. Sothey make tons of money from the indiscriminant slaughter of soldiers, villagers, travelers and everyone else.
And, from there, things get uglier. This is all based on historical events, or so I've heard. I haven't researched it enough to know how closely. But, this is a very dark vision of the "wild west," and the blood that was spilled while the land was still wild. If you have the stomach for it, this is an amazing book. View all 38 comments. Jun 17, Jessaka rated it it was amazing Shelves: Before man was, war waited for him.
The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. It is said that McCarty's most beautiful and darkest prose occurs in this book. It is also said to be the most evil book written. You were there when it all happened, and that is how it should be if we really want to know evil. I kept putting this book down, leaving it for days. I just could not make friends with it. Then when reading it I would come upon some of the most haunting prose, and I would think, like others have, that I wanted to read the book again.
But most of all, I felt that I was not with the book, and the book was not with me. I hardly knew what was going on. Men gathered on horses and rode the southern borders of Texas and Arizona, maybe even New Mexico, just to find what who they could slaughter, and what they slaughtered were Mexicans and Indians. I saw their scalps being taken, their faces blown off. I saw it all like I had never saw it in any book before.
Days went by before I could I pick the book up again, and by this time they were dashing babies against rocks, just like in the old testament, just like the Christians had dashed Indian babies against the rocks during the Indian Removal Act. Just to shut them up. You don't get the bloody details in bible, but McCarthy's gives them to you in detail in the only way that he knows how. And at times I had to look away. I began feeling that there was nothing right about this book except for its prose.
What is right about people who have no emotions when killing? And because they had no emotions this book had no emotions except for those that you felt when you read it. And then I made up my mind. I picked up the book and started over from the very beginning, and this time I knew all that was happening.
At last I had made friends with it, and I knew that I would read it again, just for its prose. He can know his heart, but he dont want to.
Rightly so. Best not to look in there. It aint the heart of a creature that is bound in the way that God has set for it. You can find meanness in the least of creatures, but when God made man the devil was at his elbow.
A creature that can do anything.
Make a machine. And a machine to make the machine. And evil that can run itself a thousand years, no need to tend it. Fuck yeah. This is great. I felt fully absorbed and enclosed in the nightmare.
I was scared. McCarthy at his very best commands some black and frightful reserves. To chose from so many scenes: Everything bodied forth complete, final, and inevitable. I find no seam. I think that the sacredness of human life is a purely municipal ideal of no validity outside the jurisdiction. I believe that force…is the ultima ratio, and between two groups that want to make inconsistent kinds of world I see no remedy except force.
So does McCarthy. Hence my fear. The world of Blood Meridian is at once recognizable, historical—and a prehistoric void, the very birth of violence: Save for their guns and buckles and a few pieces of metal in the harness of the animals there was nothing about these arrivals to suggest even the discovery of the wheel. Philosophizing and killing; meditating upon ruins and making them.
A cold kiva of the Anasazi is his perfect lectern. My unrevised undergraduate prejudice against Faulkner centers on mushmouthed prolixity. Perhaps an inevitable opinion when Absalom, Absalom! I love the Mexican War just a bit less than the Civil—the former the bloody nursery of the latter. The historical John Joel Glanton rode with the Texas Rangers during the war and made epic desert rides scouting for the army. The war and its aftermath was the great age of the filibustero , the freebooter, the hired gun paid partly in plunder.
It was a time when a band of Americans armed with rifles and the new six-shooters was thought invincible against mestizo conscripts with antique muskets and Indians with simple bows. During the s bands of adventurers sallied forth from New Orleans, Mobile and San Francisco ambitious to reproduce the seizure of California in Cuba, Nicaragua and Baja.
Some were picked up by the navy and set back; others made landfall and proclaimed brief chimerical kingdoms; and still others were captured and garroted in crowded plazas or stood against walls and shot down by squads of fusileros.
This was neither the first nor the last of many American filibustering expeditions south of the border during the unquiet years following the Mexican War. The chronic instability and frequent overthrows of the government in Mexico City created power vacuums filled by bandit chieftains and gringo invaders who kept the border in a constant state of upheaval. McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era View all 11 comments. Jun 29, Aubrey rated it it was amazing Shelves: That's so, said the judge.
They do not have to have a reason. But order is not set aside because of their indifference. Rugged individualism. There's a whole unholy host of words one could use in reckoning with this, some more explicated than others. Penchants for ideological idiosyncrasies and survival have shaped mine; yours are your own. May the last speaker standing still breath. History, human, homicide. W That's so, said the judge. We have a tendency towards pitifully writhing in worship of these contextualized monstrosities, whether as sideshow or self-censorship.
The unfathomable brutality of mechanistic fate! As if the horrorshow were as simple as that. Does the smell of shit affront you? Do the imaginative contortions of infants swung into the ground, unfused skulls spilling forth their soft and greasy contents, disturb you unduly?
Would you prefer to take your eyes elsewhere, leaving behind pleas of too much for your delicate sensibilities ringing out over the skinning, the gutting, the rapes through every orifice known to man and then some?
You might have actually learned something true about that heritage of your oh so civilized existence. And those thrusting forth your chests of nonfiction bents and nonfiction alone, please.
Take your panderings at objectivity to some other plain of existence where the records are less choked with old white men and their accredited desecration. Here, the only right guaranteed to you and all is to die.
In the neuter austerity of that terrain all phenomena were bequeathed a strange equality and no one thing nor spider nor stone nor blade of grass could put forth claim to precedence. The very clarity of these articles belied their familiarity, for the eye predicates the whole on some feature or part and here was nothing more luminous than another and nothing more enshadowed and in the optical democracy of such landscapes all preference is made whimsical and a man and a rock become endowed with unguessed kinships.
If you set forth onto the borderline of one culture stretching out its self-assured entrails of weaponry and their users into the breaking and bloodying brains of another, yes, you will find a finality.
To call it righteous and cloak it in some bandy-legged slogan of manifest destiny, though, is just lazy ableism fearful of its own nihilistic yearnings. Here, in the good ol' U. So long as the majority averts with one eye and glorifies with the other the right of violence to the spoils of humanity, ever it shall be.
God forbid we ever tear down the mechanistic icon and uncover the morass of mutilation being boiled to futile dregs as its one and only fuel in an effort to understand and atone. However shall we live with ourselves ever after? Those who travel in desert places do indeed meet with creatures surpassing all description. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. View all 32 comments.
Jun 08, Frank Maccormack rated it did not like it. This book has moments of fleeting brilliance, and the last 50 pages of the book are almost flawless. However, there are pages before that you have to read, which consist of, in my opinion, nothing more than barren landscapes, borderline shock-value accounts of depravity, and self-indulgent simile. It's a never-ending journey on the shoulders of quite possibly the most unlikable group of characters I've ever read, which in the hands of a particular writer, may work McCarthy does NOT pull it This book has moments of fleeting brilliance, and the last 50 pages of the book are almost flawless.
McCarthy does NOT pull it off. When a reader spends an entire novel hoping the main characters die the worst death they can, it is almost NEVER an enjoyable situation.
One cryptic and ominous character is interesting, but not enough to make me care what happens to any of the others. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure I "got" what he was doing the whole time; but just because an epic philosophical subversion of American expansionism is attempted doesn't mean it is successful.
It seems a lot of people love this, but I don't get the attraction. What people could see in this miserable story, I'll never know, when his later work like The Road is much more engaging and well paced. Avoid, unless you enjoy reading about the slaughter of a Mexican village more than 8 times in one book. View all 12 comments. No hay ninguna duda de que McCarthy es uno de los grandes y esta es una gran novela que, no obstante, me ha gustado algo menos que Todos los hermosos caballos o En la frontera , menos sangrientas y simbolistas.
Es un relato del infierno en un entorno infernal y con personajes inf No hay ninguna duda de que McCarthy es uno de los grandes y esta es una gran novela que, no obstante, me ha gustado algo menos que Todos los hermosos caballos o En la frontera , menos sangrientas y simbolistas. Una novela muy visual y centrada en hechos, sin moral, moralejas o calificaciones. Ya saben. Cormac McCarthy. View all 10 comments.
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Description eBook Details Click on the cover image above to read some pages of this book! The Sunset Limited. The Orchard Keeper. The Gardener's Son. The Counsellor. Outer Dark. Child of God. Blood Meridian. The Border Trilogy. Cities of the Plain The Border Trilogy: Book 3.
The Crossing The Border Trilogy: Book 2. Book 1. No Country for Old Men. The Road.I'm not sure if McCarthy is making a direct allusion here, but a description of the Babylonians from the book of Habakkuk bears an uncanny resemblance to Glanton's group of warring scalphunters: All of the constrictions you place upon mans actions are nothing to the ineffable stretch of the world which knows that all is war.
Cormac McCarthy. They Rode On: I would recommend it to watchers of Deadwood but not to John Wayne fans. Read it Forward Read it first. He speaks multiple languages, is well-versed in classic literature and has extensive knowledge of many of the natural sciences.
Los Angeles, Westernlore,