My favorite passage is from "The Crossing"..., and after 20 some years it still takes my breath away:
He camped that night on the broad Animas Plain and the wind blew in the grass and he slept on the ground wrapped in the serape and in the wool blanket the old man had given him. He built a small fire but he had little wood and the fire died in the night and he woke and watched the winter stars slip their hold and race to their deaths in the darkness. He could hear the horse step in its hobbles and hear the grass rip softly in the horse's mouth and hear it breathing or the toss of its tail and saw far to the south beyond the Hatchet Mountains the flare of lightning over Mexico and he knew that he would not be buried in this valley but in some distant place among strangers and he looked out to where the grass was running in the wind under the cold starlight as if it were the earth itself hurtling headlong and he said softly before he slept again that the one thing he knew of all things claimed to be known was that there was no certainty to any of it. Not just the coming of war. Anything at all.
OK partner..., I have the post up on my blog with a link to your post here and the quote from my comment..., and a bonus music video by the son of one of your other favorite authors :)
I think the repetition of ‘they rode’ ‘they pushed’ ‘they rode’ ‘they heard’ ‘they slowed’ ‘they rode’ ‘Like thieves’ ‘like young thieves’ Gives us a sense of the passage of time almost like the verbal equivalent of jump cuts in a TikTok video. It’s like: ‘and now’ ‘and now’ ‘and how about now’
And of course the imagery within it is incredible
You’ve convinced me that I need to read some Cormac. I tried The Road a while back but it was just *too* bleak. Any suggestions on where to start?
Nice article. There is also something to be said about the alliteration on the ‘d’ sound and in the “loosed”, “loosely” and “choosing” here:
“… like thieves newly loosed in that dark electric, like young thieves in a glowing orchard, loosely jacketed against the cold and ten thousand worlds for the choosing.”
The first thing I've read all the way through on this platform. (I'm new) I really liked it. I enjoy the hell out of Cormac. His style. His prose. The way his stories seem like a dream, like something lived, not read. He never seems to sweat the small stuff. Its like he knows whats important to every moment and just focuses his lens nearly perfectly on that. I know this is like a vague word salad, but I am trying to say something I'm ill-equipped to say. I really like your break down and look forward to more of this and specifically more McCarthy.
Just yesterday I watched a utube video, Below the Fray, talking about All the Pretty Horses (?). The dialog was underwhelming & the one metaphor that I can remember, ‘the horses breath smelled like news from another country’ left me completely baffled….& again, underwhelmed. I prefer Henry James, Graham Green, Umberto Eco, et al.
I doubt if there is anything that would compel me to read one of his books, especially knowing what I do about his personal life.
There is music inside me that wants for playing but my tools are stiff and dulled with time and vice. I have only truth and voice.
.
The repeated “thieves”, especially so close together… Can you “get away with it” if you’re not McCarthy? I think yes if sparsely used and, as he does so well, it feels earned. Nice article, I do enjoy a good McCarthy breakdown.
Right on partner..., write on.
My favorite passage is from "The Crossing"..., and after 20 some years it still takes my breath away:
He camped that night on the broad Animas Plain and the wind blew in the grass and he slept on the ground wrapped in the serape and in the wool blanket the old man had given him. He built a small fire but he had little wood and the fire died in the night and he woke and watched the winter stars slip their hold and race to their deaths in the darkness. He could hear the horse step in its hobbles and hear the grass rip softly in the horse's mouth and hear it breathing or the toss of its tail and saw far to the south beyond the Hatchet Mountains the flare of lightning over Mexico and he knew that he would not be buried in this valley but in some distant place among strangers and he looked out to where the grass was running in the wind under the cold starlight as if it were the earth itself hurtling headlong and he said softly before he slept again that the one thing he knew of all things claimed to be known was that there was no certainty to any of it. Not just the coming of war. Anything at all.
I am a little breathless after reading that. So good
I am working on a piece to put on my blog tomorrow with a link to your piece here :)
Ah, fantastic! Thanks so much!
OK partner..., I have the post up on my blog with a link to your post here and the quote from my comment..., and a bonus music video by the son of one of your other favorite authors :)
https://scottrthequillayutecowboy.blogspot.com
Amazing!!
Fun post!
I think the repetition of ‘they rode’ ‘they pushed’ ‘they rode’ ‘they heard’ ‘they slowed’ ‘they rode’ ‘Like thieves’ ‘like young thieves’ Gives us a sense of the passage of time almost like the verbal equivalent of jump cuts in a TikTok video. It’s like: ‘and now’ ‘and now’ ‘and how about now’
And of course the imagery within it is incredible
You’ve convinced me that I need to read some Cormac. I tried The Road a while back but it was just *too* bleak. Any suggestions on where to start?
Totally agree. He writes montage really well and subtly.
All the pretty horses is a great place to start. Not nearly as dark as the road or blood meridian.
Nice article. There is also something to be said about the alliteration on the ‘d’ sound and in the “loosed”, “loosely” and “choosing” here:
“… like thieves newly loosed in that dark electric, like young thieves in a glowing orchard, loosely jacketed against the cold and ten thousand worlds for the choosing.”
Good callout!
"where no bell was" ... methinks you need to get out more. "Where you at". Was it put this way to indicate that these folks were not sophisticates?
And damn, what a great book.
The first thing I've read all the way through on this platform. (I'm new) I really liked it. I enjoy the hell out of Cormac. His style. His prose. The way his stories seem like a dream, like something lived, not read. He never seems to sweat the small stuff. Its like he knows whats important to every moment and just focuses his lens nearly perfectly on that. I know this is like a vague word salad, but I am trying to say something I'm ill-equipped to say. I really like your break down and look forward to more of this and specifically more McCarthy.
Just yesterday I watched a utube video, Below the Fray, talking about All the Pretty Horses (?). The dialog was underwhelming & the one metaphor that I can remember, ‘the horses breath smelled like news from another country’ left me completely baffled….& again, underwhelmed. I prefer Henry James, Graham Green, Umberto Eco, et al.
I doubt if there is anything that would compel me to read one of his books, especially knowing what I do about his personal life.
I only like old long dead writers who went to prison and fought in wars (apparently), but the algorithm keeps suggesting Cormac McCarthy to me.
There is music inside me that wants for playing but my tools are stiff and dulled with time and vice. I have only truth and voice.
.
The repeated “thieves”, especially so close together… Can you “get away with it” if you’re not McCarthy? I think yes if sparsely used and, as he does so well, it feels earned. Nice article, I do enjoy a good McCarthy breakdown.