I always seem to have an issue starting Cormac McCarthy works. The lack of punctuation, capitalization, and other structure devices throws me for a loop to start and makes me wonder if I really want to continue with the novel. It truly does get you to reframe how you read and how you interpret what are the thoughts or descriptions of the author vs. statements and viewpoints of the character.
I always continue however simply because the content is just so damn good. Yes its violent and highly masculine in nature. Yes it borrows from Hemingway and other “male” authors. Yes, it is highly likely to be “cancelled” along with his other works in the near future as being a last vestige of an older world version of what is quality writing. There is no magic-realism, there are traditional male/female roles presented, violence is a way of getting things done, now discarded ideas of independence, stoicism, honor, objective truth, and so on are seen as valuable. In short? Your modern high school teacher having been “educated” at Smith or Marist or other Liberal Arts junk factories will not only hate it but seek to eliminate it from acknowledgement.
Now, as for All the Pretty Horses itself, its by far the most “enjoyable” of McCarthy’s works I’ve read so far (others being Blood Meridian and Outer Dark) but still tells the tale of a doomed protagonist. From the beginning, no matter how pleasant the scenario (and maybe this is just from knowing McCarthy’s tendencies) the reader can feel the guillotine hanging over the characters, readying its fall at any moment. None escape the impact of seemingly inconsequential actions and associations.
I won’t get into the exact details, many of which you may know if you have watched the generally detested film version of this novel that came out in 2000 and which I’ll now have to go back and rewatch simply to make my own comparison after having read the book as I originally viewed it some decade or more ago and do not remember any feelings on it one way or another.
The core of the novel takes place in the ranchland and deserts of Northern Mexico though does venture into the towns and a prison of that same area in the just post WWII period. We often think of films and works like The Wild Bunch and others as showing the true end of the American West as being something taking place in the late 1800s or at the latest, very early 1900s, but McCarthy has drawn the closing of the American West forward some 50-80 years to the mid 20th century. In truth, McCarthy is pointing out that these issues, these cultures, these landscapes and the “hardness” that they demand, never go away. The independence and self reliance that is seen as an outdated characteristic associated with the white, American, cowboy, never really go away just because times change—thus the reason why McCarthy has moved his same motifs into very current periods with No Country for Old Men and his flashier pop-spinoffs like Taylor Sheridan have put forth works like Sicario and Yellowstone.
Backing all of McCarthy’s prose is his clearly deep love of the terrain and environment itself. His descriptions of the brush, dirt, dust, animals, vegetation, landscapes are near without equal (Edward Abbey perhaps?) in my various readings. This is not a novel written by someone who has a cursory knowledge of the hardscrabble lives of those living on the Western edges of our country (whether that is US or Mexico) but someone who has lived it first hand. The phrase “write what you know” comes to mind and McCarthy knows the depths of both man and nature better than almost anyone else I have read.
