Some of you may noticed that I’ve added a little reading list to the sidebar. I’m going to try to blog a little about these books as I finish them, and archive them on the book tab above. The first book I’ve completed on this list is Cormac McCarthy’s new book “No Country for Old Men.” First of all, I will tell you that I am biased about this book. Cormac occupied the office two doors down from me during my too brief stay at the Santa Fe Institute. Someday I will post the funny story about him and Bell inequalities (yeah, I said Bell inequalities.)
“No Country for Old Men” is the story of a sherriff, drugs, money, and death. Lots of death. Which might make you think that it’s just some sort of pulp novel, but, no, not even close.
The first thing that strikes you about the book is the writing style. Take, for example, this paragraph from page two:
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. I don’t know what them eyes was the windows to and I guess I’d as soon not know. But there is another view of the world out there and other eyes to see it and that’s where this is goin. It has done brought me to a place in my life I would not of thought I’d of come to. Somewhere out there is a true and living prophet of destruction and I don’t want to confront him. I know he’s real. I have seen his work. I walked in front of those eyes once. I wont do it again. I wont push my chips forward and stand up and go out to meet him. It aint just bein older. I wish that it was. I cant say that it’s even what you are willin to do. Because I always knew that you had to be willin to die to even do this job. That was always true. Not to sound glourious about it or nothin but you do. If you aint they’ll know it. They’ll see it in a heartbeat. I think it is more like what you are willin to become. And I think a man would have to put his soul at hazard. And I wont do that. I think now that maybe I never would.
(Note that those missing punctuation marks aren’t my typos!) Cormac has a true gift for storytelling and this book is beautiful in its simple use of language. Many times these days you find authors whose entire style seems to be aimed just to shout out “Look at me! Look how many words I know, and how strangely I can construct literary labryths!” Cormac has none of this. Instead the novel is filled with descriptions and turns of phrase and dialogue that are among the best I’ve ever read. No, this is not his greatest novel (I’m comparing it to the Border Trilogy, I’ve not read Blood Meridian.) But it is certainly an excellent book. It has about it an eerie silence, a sort of hush which settles over dramatic horrible events in the novel, in a way which is hard to explain and which is probably worth the price of the novel alone. Highly recommended. But then again, I’m biased 😉