Discussion about this post

User's avatar
Dennis Wilkinson's avatar

Says me in response to my friend Christopher Mark:

Well now that you put it that way….

I was struck by the writing for sure. In so many ways poetic and beautiful. I was compelled to finish it

However, The book had no one to love, no one to cheer for, no one to hope in. No struggle between good and evil, no redemption. It was a super sized meal of brutality and evil — I could never like that. I like little dogs. It sucks that the captain bought a couple of pups just to kill them. It no good that they are on the hunt for scalps, its awful that the Judge takes a surviving boy in one of the massacres only to kill him a few days later after he did God knows what with him. yes, the judge makes a very good Satan and he permeates the gang so that they destroy others and themselves, but how am I supposed to like that? — its relentless evil, I don't like that, I hate that. I suppose I could learn of the wickedness of Satan, so long as he gets his ass handed to him in the end. But that's not what happens. This is no story — its a long black turd slowly descending into a rusty stinking toilet. (hows that for a visual?)

McCarthy‘s words paint such vivid pictures. I can still see black Jackson cutting the head off of white Jackson and the ribbons of blood flowing upward

— but I don't really want my imagination overwhelmed with such darkness. Especially when in the end it seems to win.

thank you very much for interacting with my review. One day, I hope lots of people will interact like you have done above

Hope to see you again in Vancouver soon!

Expand full comment
Dennis Wilkinson's avatar

Says my friend Christopher Mark:

Ah I think you’re missing lots on Blood Meridian.

It is a portrayal, often based on historical events, of the violence and depravity of the west. But more!

First, the Judge is one of the greatest portrayals of the devil in all of literature. Certainly the greatest modern portrayal of Satan. And my opinion the most terrible villain in all of literature.

“He was close on to seven feet in height and he stood smoking a cigar even in this nomadic house of God and he seemed to have removed his hat only to chase the rain from it for now he put it on again.” He teaches the gang to make gunpowder (a nod to Satan in Paradise Lost). His goal is to become teh ruler of all of the earth.

“Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” but the Judge says “the freedom of birds is an insult to me. I would have them all in zoos.”

The very ending itself (and I won’t post spoilers here) is unknowable. What happens in the embrace of such evil?

The Kid could stand in for all of mankind “He can neither read nor write but in him broods already a taste for mindless violence. All history present in that visage, the child the father of the man.” A penchant towards violence and sin, courted by the devil.

And you see other characters, like Toadvine and Brown, who can’t escape their fate having made a bargain - toadvine in his hat. But the Judge offers food and water in the desert and what is the Kids answer? What does that echo?

"Weigh your counsel, priest. We are all here together. Yonder sun is like the eye of god..."

"I am no priest, and I have no counsel. The lad here is a free agent."

and

"Hear me, man. I spoke in the desert for you, and you only, and you turned a deaf ear to me. If war is not holy, then man is nothing more then antic clay."

There is something being said in the Kids refusal to kill the Judge. Turns from violence and war. As the Judge says after he dances "there is room on stage for one beast and one beast alone. All others are destined for a night that is eternal and without name. One by one they they will step down into the darkness before the footlamps."

And it is more - a comment on man freed from restraint. Man gone mad with freedom.

And the writing is so beautiful:

““They rode on and the sun in the east flushed pale streaks of light and then a deeper run of color like blood seeping up in sudden reaches flaring planewise and where the earth drained up into the sky at the edge of creation the top of the sun rose out of nothing like the head of a great red phallus until it cleared the unseen rim and sat squat and pulsing and malevolent behind them. The shadows of the smallest stones lay like pencil lines across the sand and the shapes of the men and their mounts advanced elongate before them like strands of the night from which they’d ridden, like tentacles to bind them to the darkness yet to come.”

Expand full comment

No posts