Cormac McCarthy is one of my favorite contemporary authors. I find his wordsmithing absolutely compelling, right up there with Salman Rushdie (which is high praise in my book). Both McCarthy and Rushdie carry the mantle of Vladimir Nabokov (which is the highest praise in my book). Here’s a taste from No Country for Old Men, musing on the arrow of time (I apologize for the length; I couldn’t help myself):
He watched her, his chin in his hand. All right, he said. This is the best I can do.
He straightened out his leg and reached into his pocket and drew out a few coins and took one and held it up. He turned it. For her to see the justice of it. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and weighed it and he flipped it spinning in the air and caught it and slapped it down on his wrist. Call it, he said.
She looked at him, at his outheld wrist. What? She said.
Call it.
I wont do it.
Yes you will. Call it
God would not want me to do that.
Of course he would. You should try to save yourself. Call it. This is your last chance.
Heads, she said.
He lifted his hand away. The coin was tails.
I’m sorry.
She didnt answer.
Maybe it’s for the best.
She looked away. You make it like it was the coin. But you’re the one.
It could have gone either way.
The coin didnt have no say. It was just you.
Perhaps. But look at it my way. I got here the same way the coin did.
She sat sobbing softly. She didnt answer.
For things at a common destination there is a common path. Not always easy to see. But there.
Everything I ever thought has turned out different, she said. There aint the least part of my life I could of guessed. Not this, not none of it.
I know.
You wouldnt of let me off noway.
I had no say in the matter. Every moment in your life is a turning and every one a choosing. Somewhere you made a choice. All followed to this. The accounting is scrupulous. The shape is drawn. No line can be erased. I had no belief in your ability to move a coin to your bidding. How could you? A person’s path through the world seldom changes and even more seldom will it change abruptly. And the shape of your path was visible from the beginning.
She sat sobbing. She shook her head.
Yet even though I could have told you how all of this would end I thought it not too much to ask that you have a final glimpse of hope in the world to lift your heart before the shroud drops, the darkness. Do you see?
Oh God, she said. Oh God.
I’m sorry.
She looked at him a final time. You dont have to, she said. You dont. You dont.
He shook his head. You’re asking that I make myself vulnerable and that I can never do. I have only one way to live. It doesnt allow for special cases. A coin toss perhaps. In this case to small purpose. Most people dont believe that there can be such a person. You can see what a problem that must be for them. How to prevail over that which you refuse to acknowledge the existence of. Do you understand? When I came into your life your life was over. It had a beginning, a middle, and an end. This is the end. You can say that things could have turned out differently. That they could have been some other way. But what does that mean? They are not some other way. They are this way. You’re asking that I second say the world. Do you see?
Yes, she said, sobbing. I do. I truly do.
Good, he said. That’s good. Then he shot her.
Cormac happens to live in Santa Fe. I bump into him now and again, usually at the Santa Fe Institute, where he does much of his writing. The SFI is one of the most beautiful research venues I know of. Cascading levels of interaction space, with sofas and blackboards, ringed by offices with views of the mountains and the valleys surrounding Santa Fe. Populated by an eclectic and stimulating group of people. And there are really, really good cream puffs at afternoon tea. It’s just up the street from where I live, and I should spend more time there.
Cormac is wonderfully interesting, and not as dark as much of his work (e.g., The Road, No Country for Old Men, Blood Meridian, Child of God). It also turns out Cormac is old school. He has written all of his novels to date on an Olivetti Lettera 32 manual typewriter. Since undoubtedly the majority of our readers are unfamiliar with this ancient technology, suffice it to say that it is roughly halfway between a stone tablet and an iPhone. After 46 years, Cormac’s typewriter is giving up. Some of the keys no longer function. And although there is a genre of literature predicated on omitting letters, Cormac is a traditionalist, and prefers a full alphabet. Thus he is auctioning off his typewriter (he has already acquired an antediluvian replacement). Most importantly, the proceeds of the auction will benefit the Santa Fe Institute. In some ways, this is an opportunity akin to owning Shakespeare’s quill. And you directly contribute to the scientific enterprise! The auction is today. Bid here. (Note: they’re expecting at least $15k, so it’s not for the faint of heart.)
December 4th, 2009 at 11:20 am
He’s one of my favorites too.
McCarthy gets a lot of criticism for his writing style. It’s like some people just can’t see past that.
If you haven’t read the The Road yet, I recommend reading it before seeing the movie.
December 4th, 2009 at 1:00 pm
You rock, daniel.
SFI sounds like an interesting place. I’d love to visit it someday.
December 4th, 2009 at 2:45 pm
“Could of”? Is the error also present in the original text?
In any case, as a non-native English writer… *sigh*. Well, I guess it’s not the people’s fault the language is so difficult.
December 4th, 2009 at 5:57 pm
They did a lot better than $15k…$250k for a nearly broken typewriter!
December 4th, 2009 at 6:22 pm
$254,500!
That’s like ten grand per working letter…
December 4th, 2009 at 8:03 pm
The best song for fundraisers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkje4FiH9Qc
December 4th, 2009 at 8:15 pm
“Could of”, when spoken, is actually “could’ve”, which is perfectly grammatical. Perhaps it was spelled that way to indicate that the speaker is uneducated.
December 5th, 2009 at 9:38 am
Meh, Cormac has resorted to emotional Christian parables and pious symbolism in The Road. The talent he has seems to be deliquescing into C.S. Lewisophilia.
December 5th, 2009 at 11:50 am
He can use the quarter-million to track down fully inked typewriter ribbons and carbon paper.
December 5th, 2009 at 1:13 pm
Music: Elton John
Lyrics: Bernie Taupin
Electic piano and flute mellotron: Elton John
Bass: Dee Murray
Drums and maraccas: Nigel Olsson
ARP synthesizer: Ken Scott
Acoustic guitar and banjo: Davey Johnstone
Daniel is travelling tonight on a plane
I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain
Oh and I can see Daniel waving goodbye
God it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes
They say Spain is pretty though I’ve never been
Well Daniel says it’s the best place that he’s ever seen
Oh and he should know, he’s been there enough
Lord I miss Daniel, oh I miss him so much
Daniel my brother you are older than me
Do you still feel the pain of the scars that won’t heal
Your eyes have died but you see more than I
Daniel you’re a star in the face of the sky
Daniel is travelling tonight on a plane
I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain
Oh and I can see Daniel waving goodbye
God it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes
Oh God it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes
December 5th, 2009 at 4:16 pm
“Could of” is just eye dialect, like “wont”. In a first person narrative, it’s pretty effective.
McCarthy writes well, but I can’t bear him. I’ve read two things of his, and I doubt I’ll ever put myself though that again.
December 6th, 2009 at 5:02 am
The most unpleasant garbage I’ve read on CV.
December 6th, 2009 at 5:49 pm
I’m afraid I have to second JD and capitalistimperialistpig on this one. Surely the line ” In some ways, this is an opportunity akin to owning Shakespeare’s quill” will live on as the most absurd hyperbole ever to see the light of day here.
December 6th, 2009 at 8:12 pm
Just for balance, I add my personal opinions.
The prose by Cormac McCarthy was good from a literary point of view, and fascinating from a philosophical point of view.
It is not surprising that many will find the “monster’s” philosophy very upsetting.
Not for everyone.
Thanks very much, Daniel.
December 7th, 2009 at 9:17 am
Salman Rushdie is nowhere near the level of Cormac McCarthy. Not even close, and I say this as a person that likes Rushdie very much.
Also, the “could of” is dialectical, appearing within dialogue. McCarthy correctly spells couldve, wouldve, [sic] etc. throughout the narrative. Faulkner, for one, wrote using “of” similarly.
December 7th, 2009 at 9:47 am
Rushdie at the level of McCarthy? My God.
December 7th, 2009 at 11:20 am
Toiski said: “Could of”? Is the error also present in the original text?
Huckleberry Finn, generally considered the greatest novel ever written by an author from the United States, is full of such “errors.” It is no more than a faithful rendering of the way characters of a particular background would speak.
Does no one writing in your native language do the same?
December 7th, 2009 at 8:58 pm
Carbon paper? I’ve got an office full of it; a government office, your tax dollars at work, outside of which you should all be brandishing torches and pitchforks.