Been meaning to try McCarthy. These days, I'll take sparse and lean over grandiose epics anyway.
The thing about children is, they're adaptable. Children who grow up in brutal environments full of nasty things and people out to get them adapt to that, too, and they learn how to survive. Or they don't, and they die. Watch The Wire some time, or a documentary about child soldiers in Sierra Leone. Children are quite capable of coping with the fact that the world is full of grim and scary things. Their adaptation may be ugly, and their coping mechanisms may be fatalistic and erase anything resembling that fond conceit of our modern world known as "childhood innocence," but this boy should have long since become inured to dead bodies and cannibals. He should recognize the latter as a threat, certainly, but I didn't find his tearful quivering and need to be comforted by his papa credible -- this was the reaction of a soft child from a privileged existence, not one who has
( ... )
At the end all I could think of was "How could humans survive in a world where even cockroaches were killed? Where is the oxygen coming from if there are no plants?"
I realize it is a metaphor, or analogy or some such high-brow stuff. But... the impossible setting was distracting. The book was dull and repetitive. I was not entertained... Maybe my brow is too low.
Yup, that's the book that made me quit the book club.
Literary fictionext_5626611January 1 2021, 00:41:32 UTC
I'm not sure I understand what you mean by "literary fiction". Is that a derisive way of describing literature, or just works with what you perceive as literary pretentions? If you think the latter describes McCarthy's work, then I have to sharply disagree with you. I've read about half of his novels now, including The Road, and I haven't encountered many authors who deal more profoundly and more beautifully with exploring human nature. There isn't a single glib word in McCarthy's writing. I've enjoyed plenty of Stephen King, but comparing him to McCarthy is honestly like comparing a KFC bucket to a four course meal at a 5 star restaurant.
Re: Literary fictioninverarityJanuary 1 2021, 01:39:07 UTC
McCarthy is hit and miss for me. I do think some of his style is very affected, but that is just the way he writes. I really liked Blood Meridian, but The Road was all elegaic prosiness to the point of pretentiousness.
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I liked Carrie though.
Been meaning to try McCarthy. These days, I'll take sparse and lean over grandiose epics anyway.
The thing about children is, they're adaptable. Children who grow up in brutal environments full of nasty things and people out to get them adapt to that, too, and they learn how to survive. Or they don't, and they die. Watch The Wire some time, or a documentary about child soldiers in Sierra Leone. Children are quite capable of coping with the fact that the world is full of grim and scary things. Their adaptation may be ugly, and their coping mechanisms may be fatalistic and erase anything resembling that fond conceit of our modern world known as "childhood innocence," but this boy should have long since become inured to dead bodies and cannibals. He should recognize the latter as a threat, certainly, but I didn't find his tearful quivering and need to be comforted by his papa credible -- this was the reaction of a soft child from a privileged existence, not one who has ( ... )
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At the end all I could think of was "How could humans survive in a world where even cockroaches were killed? Where is the oxygen coming from if there are no plants?"
I realize it is a metaphor, or analogy or some such high-brow stuff. But... the impossible setting was distracting. The book was dull and repetitive. I was not entertained... Maybe my brow is too low.
Yup, that's the book that made me quit the book club.
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