The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void. Carried forth and scattered and carried forth again. Everything uncoupled from its shoring. Unsupported in the ashed air. Sustained by a breath, trembling and brief. If only my heart were stone.
If only I were able to write like this. And this is just page 11. There's an entire book ahead of me.
We read "All the Pretty Horses" in Advanced Lit. last year with Wendland and it changed my life. (I'd never seen the movie, not like I ever remember movies, but I was better for it.)
ReplyDeleteI love his writing style. Amazing.
A very different side of McCarthy here, in The Road. He delves deeper into a couple of good characters, leaving human nature to its tendencies yet allowing for hope (to overcome?) in the journey of father and his young son.
ReplyDeletesusan
All the Pretty Horses is definitely a turning point book. I love how McCarthy is taken up with journey in all its elements.
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