Hard Times

I once read somewhere that Cormac McCarthy doesn’t read any writers who avoid the topics of life and death.  I remember McCarthy giving off a sort of “what’s the point?” attitude.  Why would anyone think about anything different?
McCarthy places life and death in Appalachia.  In the south west.  In a New York city apartment.  The only thing he seems to think about more than life and death is location.  Characters who are as important to their land as the trees, humbly move though his stories, wrestling with life and death - this is McCarthy’s genius.  Eloquently stitching tales of realistic doom.  
In an interview with the Cohen Brothers (who directed 2007’s adaptation of No Country For Old Men), Ethan Cohen asks McCarthy:
E.C. Do you ever get, in terms of novel writing, stuff that’s too outrageous? One wouldn’t guess that you reject stuff as being too outrageous.
C.M. I don’t know, you’re somewhat constrained in writing a novel, I think. Like, I’m not a fan of some of the Latin American writers, magical realism. You know, it’s hard enough to get people to believe what you’re telling them without making it impossible. It has to be vaguely plausible.
McCarthy’s language has a Biblical aura.  His stories move along with firm grace, speaking to those plausible realities that seem so mythic: nuclear winters, relentless sociopaths, surviving the dangers of Mexico, and scalp hunters.  While much of his cannon contains graphic violence, it’s never used for cheap thrills.  In fact, despite his bleak style McCarthy is actually quite hopeful.  It’s a hope that Obama couldn’t capture.  A hope that says: “yes, life can be terrible.  It can be wonderful, too.”  McCarthy’s happy endings are always marinated in pain.
But at this point in his career, blogging about McCarthy seems a bit trite.  His quiet success culminated to a roar with 2006’s The Road.  The notorious recluse even let Oprah interview him after she selected the book for her quaint club.  
What we really want to say at HardTimes, is that Cormac McCarthy’s writing embodies a purely American experience.  Maybe even a spiritual experience.  It’s always an honest voice that makes the most impact, and McCarthy is nothing but honest.
Monday April 6, 2009

I once read somewhere that Cormac McCarthy doesn’t read any writers who avoid the topics of life and death.  I remember McCarthy giving off a sort of “what’s the point?” attitude.  Why would anyone think about anything different?

McCarthy places life and death in Appalachia.  In the south west.  In a New York city apartment.  The only thing he seems to think about more than life and death is location.  Characters who are as important to their land as the trees, humbly move though his stories, wrestling with life and death - this is McCarthy’s genius.  Eloquently stitching tales of realistic doom.  

In an interview with the Cohen Brothers (who directed 2007’s adaptation of No Country For Old Men), Ethan Cohen asks McCarthy:

E.C. Do you ever get, in terms of novel writing, stuff that’s too outrageous? One wouldn’t guess that you reject stuff as being too outrageous.

C.M. I don’t know, you’re somewhat constrained in writing a novel, I think. Like, I’m not a fan of some of the Latin American writers, magical realism. You know, it’s hard enough to get people to believe what you’re telling them without making it impossible. It has to be vaguely plausible.

McCarthy’s language has a Biblical aura.  His stories move along with firm grace, speaking to those plausible realities that seem so mythic: nuclear winters, relentless sociopaths, surviving the dangers of Mexico, and scalp hunters.  While much of his cannon contains graphic violence, it’s never used for cheap thrills.  In fact, despite his bleak style McCarthy is actually quite hopeful.  It’s a hope that Obama couldn’t capture.  A hope that says: “yes, life can be terrible.  It can be wonderful, too.”  McCarthy’s happy endings are always marinated in pain.

But at this point in his career, blogging about McCarthy seems a bit trite.  His quiet success culminated to a roar with 2006’s The Road.  The notorious recluse even let Oprah interview him after she selected the book for her quaint club.  

What we really want to say at HardTimes, is that Cormac McCarthy’s writing embodies a purely American experience.  Maybe even a spiritual experience.  It’s always an honest voice that makes the most impact, and McCarthy is nothing but honest.

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