Oct. 15, 2007
05:29 p.m.
Though I do intend to get back to the Proust, I wound up one day with this novel in my hands and since I’ve been meaning to read Cormac Mccarthy for years, I thought why not. Although you could say, as the back cover does, that Mccarthy is part Faulkner and part O’Conner, this book is something else entirely. Southern Gothic at moments.. but then there’s someone fucking a watermelon the next minute. It’s good, very good. Wish I’d read him sooner.
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