Blood Meridian or the Evening Redness in the West by Cormac McCarthy

9/10 dropps

Forget your father’s western. Cormac McCarthy’s revisionist masterpiece
Blood Meridian is often more brutal and beautiful in equal measure than anything
offered by the cinematical likes of Eastwood, Leone, or Hawks. Set along the Texas-
Mexico border in the 1840s, Blood Meridian tells the story of a protagonist known
primarily as “the kid” and his experiences with the infamous Glanton gang. Under
the pretext of hunting hostile Apache Indians and subsequently collecting the
bounties on their scalps, the Glanton gang’s ambitions expand to include the
collection of scalps of the very villagers they purport to protect. Spearheading their
sadistic mission is the eponymous Judge Holden, the novel’s chief antagonist, a
profound example of archetypical evil in modern American literature. Interspersed
with outbursts of poignant violence and stunning portraits of southern landscapes,
Blood Meridian conveys an evil that often surpasses that of Anton Chigurh, the villain
of McCarthy’s other now-infamous creation, No Country for Old Men. The judge’s
malevolent presence is the highlight of the novel, and McCarthy crafts his
mythological antagonist with marvelous ease. In one scene, the characters tell
stories about how the judge came to join the Glanton gang. As the passage
concludes, the kid speaks up. “What’s he a judge of?” he asks, only to get this harsh
reply: “What’s he a judge of. Ah lad. Hush now. The man will hear ye. He’s ears like a
fox.” Later, the judge coerces an unwilling child into selling his dogs before casually
tossing them in a river to drown right before the boy’s eyes. Often forgoing
quotations and punctuation in typical McCarthy fashion, Blood Meridian is
undoubtedly McCarthy’s most effective and meaningful study of violence in the west.
The book is often painfully concise to the point that the author’s prose can be
daunting. It is layered and complex, but the book is not pruposefully long, nor is his
prose pedantic. Incidents that other authors would typically dedicate entire chapters
to are frequently attributed only a few sentences. McCarthy does not glorify
violence; he merely relays its existence. The slaughter of the innocent is described
so succinctly that the revulsion the reader experiences emerges entirely from within
the his or her own soul, making for a more interactive and rewarding experience. It
may take a few attempts for the lighthearted, but the effort is well worth it. Get
ready for the film adaptation, tentatively scheduled to be released next year.

- John Jamieson