Cormac McCarthy Books

In some ways, I feel MacCarthy's writing soars in her memoirs t even higher heights than in her fiction. She paints a wonderfully compelling picture of a time, a place, gender and politics.

Anyone who has read much McCarthy develops a feel for his world, and David Holloway's analysis doesn't try to alter that as much as to awaken you to what was there all along.

The "late modern" McCarthy writes on his own terms, often creating a mythology all his own. And McCarthy is definitely a blue collar writer. Legends abound about him disdaining commercialism and refusing money when he had none (just to make a speaking appearance, according to an ex-wife).

McCarthy's distain for the trough, coupled with the non-commercial appeal and enduring quality of his writing, serve to endear him all the more to all modest but honest farmers and horseman and other such self-reliant folk. This hearty analysis adds much to that.

Rick Wallach and company have produced an astonishing array of essays on McCarthy's often deep but always greatly rewarding work.

I've read some of McCarthy's novels several times, and each time I find some things I hadn't noticed before. Reading these essays in MYTH, LEGEND, DUST has awakened me to yet additional insights and different persectives. Simply amazing.

One of the most original and satisfying interpretations of Cormac McCarthy's novels to be found anywhere.

For instance, Shane Schimpf, in his recent and excellent READER'S GUIDE TO BLOOD MERIDIAN, suggests that the opening line, 'See the child,' is perhaps an allusion to Alexander Pope's 'Essay On Man.' Elisabeth Francisa goes way beyond that.

McCarthy repeats the 'See him' as a form of Ecce homo, behold the man, from John 19:5:

"...the phrase used by Pontius Pilate in presenting Jesus to the crowd demanding his execution. The phrase Ecce puer (Behold the child) appears in the Old Testament (Isaiah 41:1) in a passage that has traditionally been read as a prefiguration of the miracles performed by Jesus. Ecce Homo has been used since the Middle Ages as the title for paintings depicting suffering, poverty, illness, and death. Among the many works that take Ecce Puer as their title is a poem by James Joyce. Ecce Homo is the title of a book by Friedrich Nietzsche, who employs the phrase ironically. Both works may have been known to McCarthy."

The author takes one novel at a time and examines it in the light of McCarthy's metaphysics, a light dismissed by many critics, but always there dim in the darkness.

In her discussion of SUTTREE, she notes:

"...Suttree's altered states are rendered with a precision that demands close attention. Garry Wallace has written that, in a casual conversation with mutual friends, Cormac McCarthy said that he felt sorry for me because I was unable to grasp this concept of spiritual experience. He said that many people all over the world, in every religion, were familiar with this experience. He asked if I'd ever read William James's THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE. His attitude seemed to indicate that in this book were the answers to many of the questions posed during our evening discussion."

"In reply to a letter Wallace wrote months later to follow up, Wallace reports that McCarthy went on to say that he thinks the mystical experience is a direct apprehension of reality, unmediated by symbol, and he ended with the thought that our inability to see spiritual truth is the greater mystery."

"Following up on these hints, William C. Spencer has produced an essay on the altered states of consciousness portrayed in SUTTREE...Spencer convincingly argues that through his newfound cosmic or mystic superconsciousness, SUTTREE moves beyond his felt duality to a sense of universal unity, and he thereby gains control over his fear of death..."

There is much more and it is a treat to read. Elisabeth Francisca deserves a much wider audience. If this interests you and you cannot afford a copy yourself, you might ask your library to order a copy (a lot of libraries have accounts with Amazon).

Every once in a while, I revisit McCarthy's world, then peruse this collection again, establishing a sort of kinship with the minds herein: Edwin Arnold's "The Mosaic of Cormac McCarthy's Fiction," Rick Wallach's take on Judge Holden, Richard Marius's recollections of Suttree's haunts as seen through the window of McCarthy's fiction. Once again I read Peter Josyph's "Blood Music: Reading Blood Meridian," and am awake to the significance of the novel.

This collection encludes sparkling essays on McCarthy's entire body of work by Dianne C. Luce, Nancy Kreml, Linda Townley Woodson, Nell Sullivan, William Prather, D. S. Butterworth, Wade Hall, Tim Parrish, John Lang, Gary M. Ciuba, William C. Spencer, Natalie Grant, Brian Evenson, Wade Hall, and others.

Incomprehensible..Boring, A waste of money..
I you want to spend time trying to unravel what the heck this man is trying to say, then do so..I gave it my best shot and in disgust tossed it into the waste basket.

Suttree is much more simplistic than The Border Trilogy, and No Country for Old Men. Consequently, the language is not as beautiful. McCarthy, in writing Suttree, was only honing his skill towards greatness.

I read this book because it is on the Modern Library's Top 100 List. This is by far the worst novel I've ever read in my life! There is no plot, it is boring, and very very long. It seems like the author couldn't make up his mind what to write about and just randomly threw in different scenes that could've made up a series of completely different stories. It's like reading a book of short stories where each story starts and then abruptly switches to the beginning of something completely different and never gets to the end or climax of any of the stories. Again NO plot!

Not to mention he seems to have a vulgar and disgusting agenda with this book. The characters are dirty, worthless, transients, that I neither feel for, nor want to read about, and their random acts of violence are dispicable. I don't think he writes beautifully in any sense of the word, he is excessive in his descriptive narrative. It's boring and makes no sense. This is the first book I've ever read that I literally wanted to burn when I was through reading it.

The fact that this novel was ever published is surprising to me, let alone the fact that people actually buy it, and like it enough to put it on the Modern Library's list. Personally I disliked every aspect of his writing.

I think that in our day and age something is widely considered "profound" if it makes no sense. Splatters of paint are a "masterpiece" painting. Unrecognizable shapes are a brilliant sculpture. A urinal plucked and hung on the wall becomes a great work of art, this book reminds me of that urinal.

This is an amazing book. I finished it in 4 days and started all over again. Not for children though.

"Mr Suttree...the new day commences and contrary to conduct befitting a person of your station you betook yourself to various low places within the shire of McAnally and there did squander several ensuing years in the company of thieves, derelicts, miscreants, pariahs, poltroons, spalpeens, curmudgeons, clotpolls, murderers, gamblers, bawds, whores, trulls, brigands, topers, tosspots, sots and archsots, lobcocks, smellsmocks, runagates, rakes, and other assorted and felonious debauchees."

Such are the characters and such is the language of Suttree, a novel about Cornelius Suttree, who in 1952 has abandoned his life of privilege because of his relationship with his father and has opted instead for the life of a river rat, living in a shoddy houseboat under the bridges of Knoxville, Tennessee and eeking out a living as a fisherman. When not checking his lines, he spends his time drinking, fighting, in jail, wandering through the woods alone, and hanging out with the dredges of society.

The world of Sutree is an underbelly of grime and muck, populated by a violent, immoral, idiotic but usually likable cast of characters. Suttree himself is one of the more noble of them, but the most enjoyable is a hare-brained schemer named Harrogate. Suttree meets the "country mouse" (as he calls Harrogate) in the workhouse after Harrogate is arrested for engaging in repeated carnal relations with watermelons. Later in the book Suttree finds him shooting poisoned meat from a slingshot, killing bats which he then delivers to the local hospital for a bounty ($1 per bat), and then again Suttree discovers him in a cave unconscious after his plan to dynamite a tunnel under the city and into a bank vault goes awry.

It takes awhile to care for Suttree, partly because he doesn't seem to care about much himself. But by the end of the novel, McCarthy has given us enough, in small pieces here and there, that we have in Suttree a deep, well-rounded and sympathetic, if flawed, character. All the big names have been thrown around by critics describing this book--Twain, Joyce, Steinbeck, Faulkner--but I feel like McCarthy is his own. Just as quintessentially American as Twain or Steinbeck, but wholly original. I'm actually surprised to say that I may like this book better than some of his later, more sparsely written novels. It's really really good.

"I am the Him. The absolute being. Understand that I am not merely one being among other beings. I am the being, the being of all beings... The history of humanity is nothing more than a preparation for My emergence into the world."

Talk about a God complex!

Jonathan Barrows, the solipsist with delusions of grandeur, is the "hero" in Northwestern professor Joseph Suglia's latest book, Watch Out. Suglia takes us on a journey into the mind of Jonathan Barrows, an unmitigated egoist who comes off like an Ayn Rand character gone terribly, terribly wrong. However, whereas the characters in Rand's books worship themselves because of their accomplishments and ability to move the world, Barrows worships himself because, well, he deems himself a fine human specimen. A wretched agoraphobic, Jonathan Barrows loathes the touch, presence, and interaction of all other humans but has only one special love: himself. Excuse me, Himself. A modern day Narcissus, instead of falling into a pond upon seeing his own beautiful reflection, he is so enamored with himself, he has a blowup doll fashioned in his own image to make love to.

Watch Out seems to be Barrows' catchphrase as he encounters all types of lowlifes and David Bowie lookalikes, all of whom want a piece of Barrows' perfection. He openly shows his abhorrence to the swarms of women who fall over him and throw their panties his way as if he were a rock star. And in his mind, he is a rock star. But really, what is supposed to be so great about him? Aside from the fact that he apparently looks like Jude Law ("I certainly do not resemble Jude Law. Mr. Law, however, may bear a slight resemblance to ME.") and has a very word-of-the-day vocabulary, he really has no talent. He can't even get an interview to teach at a third-rate community college! He's extremely close-minded in that he sees the world in black and... orange, a color that repulses him. There are only two restaurants in Jonathan Barrows' world: Burger God and Lobster King, over-the-top chain eateries with disgusting specialties such as chicken-powdered French fries. Every male looks like David Bowie ("he would look exactly like David Bowie, if David Bowie were three hundred pounds and wiglessly bald."), every tree is a yew tree, every television show is an exaggerated episode of Becker. Barrows acknowledges that despite his hatred for his fellow man, he in fact needs interaction with other people to accentuate his importance.

The first part of the book puts the reader really into the mind of Mr. Barrows and introduces you to the world he sees. Personally, I'm someone who wants to like everyone, but truly, Jonathan Barrows has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. And that's what makes him so delicious. I found the antics of the protagonist to be quite entertaining, although it did get a bit redundant after awhile. However, I think that's the point.

In the second part of the book, our hero decides he is going to assassinate the world's most celebrated pop star, Britney Spears. To sound like a bad book report, that is where I am leaving it because as repetitive as it gets sometimes, it's still a thoroughly entertaining read, outlandish and hilarious, and I absolutely recommend it. Joseph Suglia, despite his off-color absurdity, is a brilliant writer and subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) masters morbidity and humor. I read Watch Out while sitting in the hospital, and every show I watched really was Becker, and everything seemed to be awash with not orange but a garish shade of mauve; I was starting to feel a bit like Jonathan Barrows myself... minus the blowup doll.

Make no mistake.

"Watch Out", the novel creation of Dr. Joseph Suglia is visceral! To give an historic and ethos filled sense for the reader, hear here the voice of Anthony Burgess; "The scientific approach to life is not really appropriate to states of visceral anguish". Quickly for one moment turn back your mental clock to a short time ago in history to, "Clockwork Orange" by Anthony Burgess. In the violence ending Suglia's creation, the violence of Burgess's creation is no more or less. So I say then of Suglia, we have a sublime comparison in Suglia to Burgess. But lest the reader be led astray by the visceral end of a life, let this reviewer bring attention to the astute reader the likeness of Aldous Huxley floating evocatively in the distorted social world presented for the reader to see, a world presented as a future not yet reached by the readers but are warned of which to watch out. If but they only would find themselves able to tear themselves away from Jonathan Barrows, they might see the strangeness of the social world of this strange and fascinating creature Jonathan Barrows, for it provides a backdrop against which the man may be seen. So totally does Suglia draw his readers into the world of Jonathan Barrows few if any ever really seem to take the time to examine the world around him and the people who surround him and desire him in every way everyday. What kind of people are the people surrounding Jonathan Barrows? With thoughts and questions like these arising it is no wonder a philosophic reader will note the striking parallel to the individualism of the works of Ayn Rand, most pointedly in Jonathan Barrows as outworked to the extreme. This reviewer must remark on the supreme seemingly likeness to the Alpha man of Brave New World.
Jonathan Barrows near the beginning of the narrative is found traveling by train to interview for a professorship at a community college. The position is that of "Professor of Intelligent Thinking". An Alpha Man in a world where all the individuals seek their own pleasure uninhibitedly, as may be seen in the multitude of raw attempts on him to engage in sexual encounters, where in each and every instance Jonathan Barrows reigns supreme and denies everyone. Call this a brave new society minus the controllers and social engineering, where self reigns and violence exist pure and simple.

Certainly there is humor found in the narrative, there is that humor found for intelligent minds. Such high minded humor has commentary to say on mores' of today, perceived by the author or implied for sake. We read of the end of the affair wherein we find Jonathan Barrows responding to a menage a trois opportunity. One of the two woman he simply speaks bluntly to and says; "I say unblinkingly, "I would pay you twice the sum to keep your clothing on" and in that moment a vision into the soul of the corrupted young woman via the wit and repartee of George Bataille comes forth with an echoing remembrancer in the following thought line he has; "She cannot free the apes that are locked in the cages of her mind". How sveltely suave of Suglia to find echoes of the earliest years of the science of mind of extremist writers. The chapter "Becoming a Man" bears keeping in mind, this freely engaged in incest and familial violence is representative of the strangeness and alienness of the society-individual reality, which typical western minds are unable to grasp oft times. These portrayals are extreme, yet the setting of the literary world presented for portrayal, may be extreme across the board within the confines of the boards ending the narrative. Language is key, while the style chosen is excessive its expression is linguistically sublime

Whatever other reviewers may say, "Watch Out" is by no means a fast paced read. While though the sentences are short and to the point, their conciseness is heavy with the fullness of language carrying efficiently the image sought after for the reader to envision. Comparisons to modern day writers all, like Suglia strive to blaze their own way, and are not aptly compared to one another. More apt and telling is when the themes found sounded through previous works that have stood some test of time, are found to be coming to life in a narrative despite authorship, then the spirit of genius may be appealed to. Many reviewers imputed a lack of depth to "Watch Out" with directives of weakness of plot or development. Persons who consider Watch Out to be a, "Quick read" and or who complain of a lacking plot or character development, should really try reading a little more concentrically and with less shallowness of mind. "Watch Out" while printed so as to read in the normal lineal fashion-beginning to end, this reviewer has come to understand the true story as it actually starts in the chapter named, "My Eyes Have Seen the Coming of the Glory of the lord" after which the chapter "Midnight Ebony" leads the reader to the beginning of the narrative on page one. The story in it's true beginning starts and comes full circle in the telling of the gang-rape of Jonathan Barrows. The pathos experienced by Jonathan Barrows with the completion of his being gang-raped gives rise to an all together likely slow motion review of his life in the depths of his mind, much like the flashback of a man about to die.


As seen in the dreaminess of the story at the point of, "Midnight Ebony" as also at the beginning with, "Immobility" transitioning right into the train ride leading to the classroom eventually. The remaining second half of the story, so visceral in its depiction of raw, sexual and violent word imagery, may be the better understood as the uninhibited view of the life lived by Jonathan Barrows prior to making the trip to the college.
A discombobulation of memories.

This is a society of much opposition to society as we may say we live. This is a work of writing focused on an individual and the society he is found in, it is not scatological for purpose, no. It is made thus by the expressed interpretations of the individual reviewer himself. The narrative as such is about a candidate for professor of intelligence at a community college who is then impolitely ignored and finds in the end himself being gang-raped by the very class he would teach.

No this is not scatological, it is every bit a story told given an understanding of the anguish of Jonathan Barrows in one moment of his life time,
a moment as allusively described via Burgess;
"The scientific approach to life is not really appropriate to states of visceral anguish".
Listen then to the voice of Jonathan Barrows at the end of the rape act;
"The hands fall on me. The world blacks out........I weep, wrenched, doubled-over; I grasp my hair furiously, I writhe.........Tears stream hotly down my face." (pg. 151-152); "The night flows through the window now. The enclosing night. I am alone in this benighted space. I disappear into the seams of the protective night. The writhing black welcomes for me to move. At this moment, I know the destitution of the world. I am the destitution of the world." (pg 155); "Suddenly my body loses its ability to move. There is nothing to do. I accept-and even enjoy-my paralysis. I wrap silence around myself and explore my most intimate recesses. Hidden roads to secret cities. Though outside of the classroom is a riot of activity, here I am at an infinite remove from the events of the world. I examine the contours of my mind without interruption. I ball myself up in the hollow of a womb.
No one touches me anymore."(pg 3);
(Edition one 2006. FLF Press. VA.)
A lone individual a clash of people. Society supremely suppressing the lone individual, Themes people, themes. Clockwork Orange, Brave New World, Anthem, and now years later, Watch Out, it is as simple as a, b, c, make no mistake.
When you read this book watch out.

Robert J. Rei- Reviewer, August 5, 2008

This is a sophomoric effort to emulate Georges Bataille. It fails abysmally. This is clearly one of the worst books ever written. You can read this garbage in a half-hour, but you'll never get that half-hour back. I cannot fathom how anyone with any modicum of intelligence can actually praise this garbage, unless you're a 13-year old kid who likes dirty words and torture-porn.

I had the exact same reaction with this book as I did reading J.G. Ballard's "Crash", completely ridiculous writing. I would categorize these types of books as porn, not traditional porn, but porn for people who just like to read the grotesque side of human behavior. I prefer more substance.

Joseph Suglia's WATCH OUT absolutely hung the moon. Some stories become apart of you forever, but this is not the case with WATCH OUT. It is something deeper than that, which is now fused to me from here on out. It's Joseph Suglia's wordings that has redefined all I've ever known or appreciated on the topic of imagery. I've yet to come across anything that touches his command of language. His words pop and brew a cannonball splash of visuals and he was able to pen the strongest adhesive, hyper focused state that has ever graced my reading brain. The plot of WATCH OUT is mentioned throughout these other reviews, but to even judge or acknowledge plot in this book is to miss and detour away from its brilliance. This is not a book for children or little old ladies. While I've read that this book is a cult-classic type, I believe that mainstream America would also be lining up to buy WATCH OUT if they had an inkling of how high the book's fonts strike up a mental-wonderland.

Some characters also become apart of you forever. And again, this is not the case here. Johnathan Barrows is a circus-painted caricature of Narcissistic Personality Disorder (he also qualifies for at least 3 other Personality Disorders, as he is not a milk and toast kinda guy). What is lovable is Joseph Suglia's ability to bewitch the reader into Barrows skewed reality. It is the reader's belly-laughing delight to live amid and note the discrepancies and it is a readers' blessing to see it all cast with language so surged, and jazzed-up, jaw-dropping coolness.

If you are not a minor and young enough to work email, you should absolutely read this book. It will enrich your mind with the coolest word paint I've ever seen.

Let's start off with an admission. I rarely devote free time to novels - just can't sit still that long. On a lark, I picked up McCarthy's "No Country for Old Men" for a quick read on weekend escape to the beach. Perfect. Four novels later, I am now officially hooked. "The Border Trilogy" is a must read and my latest purchase. As always, the action is continuous, the descriptions unique, the characters interesting and believable. More than occasionally McCarthy taunts you with the unusual phrase or jumps to Spanish conversation. Do take the time to look these up as it adds unique and complete meaning to the novel. It also soon becomes a game between you and the author, a quest if you will, to unabashedly claim mastery of the piece.

His books are always great though horribly depressing. I haven't read yet but will in the fall. I usually have to read 2 or 3 other books with happier endings and surroundings then I pick McCarthy's books back up again. I am sure it will be as thought provoking as all his books are.

I first was introduced to Cormac Mccarthy by way of "No Country for Old Men ", and loved his writing style, which led me to the border trilogy, which I also like a lot. Next I will read Blood Meridian. His style is unlike any other I have read.

I bought this book for a Christmas present. I have read these three books twice and found them just as exciting the second time around. The author is a wonderful writer and I wanted my son to have the same enjoyable experience reading them as I did.

Cormac McCarthy has the amazing abilitly to envoke emotion using description of action and place. One never gets inside of his characters heads directly (at least not in this particular series) and yet it is the most emotionaly powerful series i have ever encountered. McCarthy taps into the very core of the human life force, our relationships with nature and change.
I first read All the Pretty Horses when i was thirteen, having heard my father talk about the effect the book had on him, specifically the way McCarthy contrasted the rappidly changing United States and the little changed Mexico. i enjoyed the story, although i found the narrative a bit dense. Jimmy Blevins, the runnaway who ends up traveling with John Grady Cole and Lacey Rowlins, made quite an impression as a fully fleshed out character and a very confused and truly destructive adolesent. He is the source of much of the trouble Grady Cole and Rawlins are presented with. Also there is a scene in which John Grady Cole and The Mexican girl who he falls in love with go swimming in a lake a night which has stuck with me. Her hair, blacker than the night, floating about her.
I read the Crossing about year later, and found it much more difficult to get through. Billy Parhams relationship with the wolf is so strong that when she dies it is difficult to continue sheerly becuase the main meat of the story seems to have vanished. the rest of the book is sparse and seemingly aimless. Billy is has lost most everything that is dear to him and cant land anywhere. the reader gets to be with him through his uncertainty and the search for his younger brother who has run off with a Mexican girl and dissapeared deep into Mexico. The novel does have conclusion however, and definately packs an interesting punch.
i didnt read Cities of the Plain until I was eighteen, ironically enough working on ranch in the middle of nowhere. It is the single most influential and moving book that i've read in my life. Watching the demise of John Grady Cole, and his friendship with Billy Parham (who is ten years older) is incredible. The contrast between Billy Parham who is very observant but also very uncertain and John Grady Cole, who is completely whole, and gifted and certain in everything he does, is staggering. The difference in the way they approach the rappidly changing world is both depressing and enlightening. I suppose the verdict is that people as whole as John Grady Cole cant survive in our culture today. There's no place for people who wont compramise their ideals, purhaps merely becuase they arent concious of the fact that ideals can be compramised. Either way the book wripped along for me, and it was a terribly painful experiance. Never have i fallen in love with a fictional character the way i fell in the with John Grady Cole in Cities of the Plain.
The love story is also quite nice, despite it's tragic qualities. The Whore that John Grady Cole falls in love with is perfectly suited for him and the scenes between them are beautiful. They're both trying to survive in a world that will never hold them. For me it is the book that best describes the compramise of the late teenaged years and young love, in a real way. The story exposes the world the way it actually is, Billy Parhams reaction to John Grady Coles death being another side of things. The conversation at the end of the book between an old Billy Parham (now a bum), and another bum under a bridge raised some interesting questions for me.
On the whole the Border Trilogy is very dense, very raw, has very strong characters and is not easy to get through but is very worth reading.

Cormac McCarthy grabbed me with both THE ROAD and NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, and so I decided to explore some of his earlier works. The first thing one notices upon doing so is that McCarthy's own writing style has changed dramatically. Whereas the more recent novels use sparse writing to evoke powerful emotions, his past works are far more verbose, with run on sentences filled with all the adjectives one could imagine. In my opinion, I prefer the sparse writing instead.

But the earlier writing style is not so distracting as to eclipse the story. Typical for McCarthy, it is not a happy one. A young woman gives birth to a baby sired by her brother. When the brother leaves the newborn in the wild to die, telling his sister that it died while she slept, the baby is discovered by another who takes it as his own. When the sister discovers the lie and goes hunting for the baby, both brother and sister take paths through the wilderness leading from danger to danger.

Like Anton Chigurh, the one man killing machine in NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, who has no known history and is as lethal as an inhuman force of nature, OUTER DARK has its own cluster of human psychopathy. A trio of travelers killing those they meet, with no reason provided, haunt the pages and bring destruction with them simply for its own sake. The two times Culla, the brother, meets up with this trio, there is a vague sense of violence underlying the encounters. The reader cannot help but wonder exactly who these people are, how could they ever have met and developed the kinship that they apparently share, and what is their purpose. None of these questions have answers.

McCarthy keeps the reader off balance through excellent use of subtleties. The whispered query of whether Culla should be shot, the 'mystery meat', and the missing eyeball, all create a bizarre sense that something seriously is out of place. But, although we might have our ideas (often too disturbing to really consider), we cannot put our finger on exactly what that something might be.

That the sister hunts for her lost child against all odds is, perhaps, McCarthy holding out some hope for us in an otherwise bleak and violent environment. Though in the end, hope is not enough, in McCarthy's world, to get us where we need to be. OUTER DARK may not be pleasant, but it is the work of an excellent author who explores those shadowy regions many authors fear to tread, and who has rightfully earned the reputation of a master.

The language of this relatively short novel is beautiful and haunting. Even though McCarthy's writing style has changed a little with each book over the past 40 years, each stage along the way has its own unique brilliance, and the somewhat sparce prose of "Outer Dark" is no exception. McCarthy has an ability like no other author I've read to describe a landscape - both exterior or interior - with such startling clarity and yet with such few words. McCarthy has no need for interior monologue, excessive dialogue, or an omniscient narrator; with the slightest subtle gestures he shares intimate and profound emotions and concepts with his reader. "Outer Dark" (as well as McCarthy's other works) is brilliant in this way.
The novel is also quite disturbing. Although they are only in a few short scenes, the mysterious trio, personifying the utter depths of (in)human violence and depravity, refuse to leave the reader's thoughts after the book has been finished. A couple of their scenes (really the only ones they appear in) left me with a very real sense of dread that didn't leave for a few days.
The actual violence of the book only takes up a couple pages of the entire novel, but as another reviewer stated, the feeling of the entire book is one of violence and oppressive fear. Once again, this is a testimony to McCarthy's mastery of language and storytelling. Because of this, the actual violence that there is is that much more powerful. I found this book in every way as disturbing as the much longer, much more violent "Blood Meridian."
From a literary standpoint, McCarthy's books are absolutely inspiring. His aesthetics present humanity at its basest, most fearsome state, but simultaneously shows slivers of the goodness and nobility in mankind, and maybe (I emphasize MAYBE) the hope that lays hidden beneath his horrifying portrait of existence.

McCarthy's novels are certainly not for everyone, for they are dark pessimistic interpretations of the human condition, often showing mankind at our worst. Outer Dark is exceptionally well written. The journeys of a sister and brother has many characteristics of dark folk tales and Greek drama on cosmological justice, or the lack there of. The tale evokes Greek Tragedy and Old Testiment Judgements. The story is mythlike and makes reference to concepts around Original Sin and Redemption.

Because the characters are early 1900 Appalachian, there is of course a comparison and contrast to William Faulkner's work. McCarthy, like Faulkner, is a master of the English language and complex sentence structures. But McCarthy is more straight-forward and less ambiguous in his sentence structure and narrative style. McCarthy is also a master at identification of out of style, low frequency words, which he resurrects in his writing. McCarthy, like many great writers, invents words also. However he invents words with such strong reference to English language etiology that they are immediately recognizable and useful. Like Faulkner before him, McCarthy explores dark themes of human deprivation, but McCarthy actually takes these themes further than Faulkner since he explores ancient themes from the Greeks regarding fate and destiny and inescapability from the dark human condition.

At the core of many novels by McCarthy is a killing machine, a dark and mysterious man who kills his fellow humans as would an earthquake or hurricane or forest fire or any other force of nature. Some critics have linked these serial killer forces of nature to Achilles in the Iliad, one of the earliest serial killer anti-heroes from literature. For Achilles, the son of a water goddess is a marvel of masculine aggression and adroit, athletic slaughter. When such a serial killer engages in murder, he has no more emotion than a tidal wave. He expects no justice or injustice for killing is like breathing. It is a personal tragedy like being killed by a falling tree or drowning in a pond. For there is no justice against the tree or the pond and McCarthy sees his murderers as beyond earthy human justice or any cosmological justice from a absent and unconcerned God. Because this natural killer is in total touch with the worst aggressive aspects of human nature, they frequently can see the darkest instincts within their fellow men.

Outer Dark however also has a familiar narrative structure to the dark folk tales of Eastern Europe where children are eaten by wolves. For in this story, an 18 year old girl and her slightly older brother commit incest and the brother hides the baby in the forest telling his sister that the baby died, a story she doesn't believe for a minute. He leaves home on a quest away from his sin and deed. She leaves home on a quest for the child which has been taken by a Rumplestilkin tinker that uses terminology that evokes the anti-semitic descriptions of Jews in the Middle Ages.. Simultaneous to their parallel paths through darkness, three murderers stalk the land and seem oddly related to bringing rough reconciliation or completion to the tragedy.

A Jungian interpretation of the novel is really in order also for the boy is a thief and liar in a world of thieves and liars. The girl seeks her child for 8 months and never stops lactating. This odd feature to this story may reflect the miraculous in the lives of Catholic Saints for the girl believed that as long as her breasts weep milk, that the child is still somewhere alive in the world. The boy and girl may represent two sides of the human personality and each has a path to follow toward reconciliation with the other. Underneath much of the horror is a redemption story for the innocent child he denies is the product of his sin. However the redemption is extremely dark in this tale of horror.

Better known for his later novels The Border Trilogy: All the Pretty Horses, the Crossing, Cities of the Plain, Blood Meridian, and No Country for Old Men, Cormac McCarthy's second novel, Outer Dark (1968), is set in Appalachia around the turn of the twentieth century. As the title suggests, dark tones permeate the novel, along with Biblical imagery. The novel reads like William Faulkner. It is gothic, apocalyptic, poetic, and full of mystery. It tells the story of a woman, Rinthy, who gives birth to her brother Culla's baby. After leaving the newborn boy in the woods to die, Culla tells his sister the baby died of natural causes. Rinthy sets out to find her baby. Meanwhile, a tinker finds the infant in the woods. As Culla walks from town to town rather aimlessly searching for work, Rinthy attempts to locate the tinker and her baby. In his travels, Culla is wrongfully accused of theft, murder, trespassing, and inciting a herd of hogs to riot. Ultimately, both Culla and Rintha are subjected to punishment for their original sin. Though a minor work, Outer Dark reveals the literary genius of Cormac McCarthy. Recommended.

G. Merritt

I thoroughly enjoyed this book (if "enjoyed" is the right word) but I have no idea what it's about. Like all the other McCarthy books I've read, it is compelling from word one. No one today shapes the English language like McCarthy. His every word is poetry. His ear for dialog and dialect is staggering. His description of everything, I mean EVERYTHING, is unerring, uncannily so. His ability to set a (mostly) dark and somber mood is (literally) scary. But I don't know what the book was about. I guess it was about a lot of things. No matter to me: I just enjoyed reading it. I enjoyed the suspense, the symbolism, the gothic emotion, the rawness of it. I've read several McCarthy books. I was lukewarm about the Border Trilogy, but hooked after "The Road", "No Country..." and others. Wonderful, masterful book. But I still don't know what it was about....

I did not expect that a book, or a dramatic work, could dig so deep into the fundamental questione of human existence: who are you? and where are you going? Another milestone in McCarthy's career.

Based on other reviews, this was more or less what I expected. There were some great stretches, but there also some jarring clichés which were a bit surprising from McCarthy. In particular the black character seemed ripped straight out of the Wikipedia definition for 'magic negro.' However, it is certainly possible McCarthy was consciously playing with that and using it as a device. Without getting too much into spoiler territory there is a development that sends an otherwise-typical magic negro plot into a brick wall. Perhaps someone with a deeper understanding of both McCarthy and literary history could deconstruct it and explain why it is the definition of brilliance, but to me it came off a tad unartful.

It is imperfect and seems rushed or unpolished. All that said, people that love writing - especially Cormac McCarthy's writing - will and should buy this, and I look forward to reading more of his for-film and for-stage writing. I think in the same way that people interested in Stanley Kubrick's films can find interest in Eyes Wide Shut (or even more esoterically, the Speilberg-directed A.I.), people like me who enjoy McCarthy's work will find plenty in The Sunset Limited to chew on.

I have become a devoted McCarthy fan. I believe he is one of the most gifted, talented, honest and bravest authors on the scene today. This would be a great text for any high school, or college literature course because it would stimulate great dialog and teach students to become more reflective thinkers. He challenges the reader to think about some of life's biggest issues. Cormac has often been accused of revealing the darker side of the human condition. With this book I found myself laughing so hard I nearly fell off my chair, and then quickly found myself in a more solemn "Wow" moment, which is more the norm when reading Cormac. He has the gift of producing profound and wonderous moments for the reader. This is one of my favorites so far in my Cormac McCarthy journey.

This year I have been working my way through all of his novels (only have one to go: The Orchard Keeper). It's been an experience. A friend of mine introduced me to Cormac McCarthy and says she believes that in 100 years, he'll be the only novelist writing today who will still be read. She may be right. There is much that is bleak about this body of work (so much so that "No Country For Old Men" is sort of a light comedy among Mr. McCarthy's other works.) The question I think his readers will be asking for a long time is: What hope, if any, does McCarthy hold out? If there is hope, where does it reside?

Although not close to being his best book, this one probably boils down that fundamental theme in McCarthy's work to the most basic. It's Black and White in this book in more ways than one. I finished the book a couple of hours ago and my initial reaction is that McCarthy's answer here is No. There is no hope. No meaning. But, as is so often the case with this writer, when you take time to think about his work, you realize that the answers don't offer themselves up that easily.

I enjoyed the book and appreciated the experiment with the dramatic form.

For those, like me, who have been bitten by the Cormac Bug, but are just getting started: You're in for quite a ride. And, be sure to read Suttree.

Thai was a surprisingly great read. I had read two of his other books, "The Road" and "No Country for Old Men". The simplicity of the book (short book, big font size) almost turned me away, but once I picked up the book it blew me away. As with the other two books by Cormac McCarthy that I read, this one also leaves the reader to basically choose his on ending. I know this sounds like a cop-out by the author but it's not. If you really understand his intent in the book you can make the conclusion yourself and you may not like the conclusion you come up with. The books are dark but brutally honest and very real with what goes on in our world everyday. This is not a "feel-good" book that has a "Happily-ever-after" type of ending, but it somehow keeps you on edge just enough to keep you from putting it down.