Blood Meridian, Or the Evening Redness in the West by Cormac McCarthy
Maybe the best book I've read in my life thus far. McCarthy's celebrated prose reaches unthinkable heights here as he brings to life a surreal, terrifying, lurid nightmare, the purest distillation of what a nightmare is. He writes as if he were possessed by something otherworldly and unnameable. It's the sort of inspiration most artists only come across maybe once in their lives, if they're lucky. Everything, from the violence of the old west to the men who populate the novel to the very landscape on which it takes place are all given an otherworldly strangeness and sense of large, mythic importance to the point where everything mentioned from the biggest to the smallest thing becomes possibly allegorical or symbolic of something much larger, elevating everything into another stratosphere and separating the novel into a category of its own. The judge is one of the best characters I've encountered in literature. A lesser writer (or perhaps just a less strange writer) would've turned such a character into something more typical and less...I don't know. Less large. Less significant. That's what the whole book has that separates it, among other things: the epic, mythic largeness of it. All the way through, but especially in the ending. Holy shit what an ending. I sat trembling for a little while with the book open on the last page. I don't know, I don't have anything much to write that I could form into coherent sentences. So I'll just leave it at that. Probably the best book I've read.
Anywho, next up: either A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry or The Grapes of Wrath, by Steinbeck. Still haven't come to a decision.
Last edited by Powerslave; 02-09-2009 at 05:33 PM..