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When I was younger, I had a very specific idea of what I was looking for in a story. I wanted an incomplete protagonist who, in the course of a journey or a battle, finds some missing element of himself and uses said element to put an end to the story. It’s a structure that you find again and again in fiction, cinema and, perhaps most nakedly, in video games, where progress is delineated in naked levels and forms of advancement.
When you’re still young in spirit, looking at the world this way is only natural. The year is broken up into semesters and seasons, small units of time within which you measure the progress of your skills and talent. The world looks different with every advancement.
I don’t think I would have understood Cormac McCarthy’s ‘Suttree’ if I was still possessed by my youth. It’s a book that ambles. It meanders. If by the end of the book ol’ Suttree has learned anything from his time fishing in his houseboat down by the river, he certainly doesn’t deign to impart that knowledge on the reader. His unchanged proclivity for blacking out for stretches of time casts doubt.
Moments of lyrical beauty flash by almost constantly, but much as in the world beyond the page, they require patience and careful attention to be gleaned from the rest of the dirty, cluttered milieu. ‘Blood Meridian’ was poetry about the depraved heights to which the human soul could aspire and ‘The Road’ was about the tremendous sadness it could bear when it is purpose-bound. ‘Suttree’ stands somewhere in between, at the same time tragic, bitter-sweet, funny, senseless and disturbing.
Just like life.
When you’re still young in spirit, looking at the world this way is only natural. The year is broken up into semesters and seasons, small units of time within which you measure the progress of your skills and talent. The world looks different with every advancement.
I don’t think I would have understood Cormac McCarthy’s ‘Suttree’ if I was still possessed by my youth. It’s a book that ambles. It meanders. If by the end of the book ol’ Suttree has learned anything from his time fishing in his houseboat down by the river, he certainly doesn’t deign to impart that knowledge on the reader. His unchanged proclivity for blacking out for stretches of time casts doubt.
Moments of lyrical beauty flash by almost constantly, but much as in the world beyond the page, they require patience and careful attention to be gleaned from the rest of the dirty, cluttered milieu. ‘Blood Meridian’ was poetry about the depraved heights to which the human soul could aspire and ‘The Road’ was about the tremendous sadness it could bear when it is purpose-bound. ‘Suttree’ stands somewhere in between, at the same time tragic, bitter-sweet, funny, senseless and disturbing.
Just like life.
McCarthyho velké dílo, které po přečtení vnímám, jako podmanivou cestu skrz ponuré prostředí Knoxvillské čtvrti odpadlíků, za snahou poznat hloubku Suttreeho charakteru.
Autorovi metafory a básnická přirovnáni, jeho drsný, ale poetický styl, to vše se mi již z jeho předchozích knih pevně vrylo pod kůži a to vše je i v tomto jeho románu přítomné a spolu se skvěle vystavěnými dialogy a drsným smyslem pro humor tvoří zážitek, který jen tak z hlavy nedostanu.
Chápu, že Suttree není kniha pro každého (i mnozí autorovi věrní fanoušci s ní mají pro její městské prostředí problém), McCarthyho styl musí člověku v mnoha ohledech prostě "sednout". Pro někoho může být problém už jen se začíst, ale bude-li čtenář trochu trpělivý a přístupný, zvykne si a pak se jen těžko odtrhne.
Autorovi metafory a básnická přirovnáni, jeho drsný, ale poetický styl, to vše se mi již z jeho předchozích knih pevně vrylo pod kůži a to vše je i v tomto jeho románu přítomné a spolu se skvěle vystavěnými dialogy a drsným smyslem pro humor tvoří zážitek, který jen tak z hlavy nedostanu.
Chápu, že Suttree není kniha pro každého (i mnozí autorovi věrní fanoušci s ní mají pro její městské prostředí problém), McCarthyho styl musí člověku v mnoha ohledech prostě "sednout". Pro někoho může být problém už jen se začíst, ale bude-li čtenář trochu trpělivý a přístupný, zvykne si a pak se jen těžko odtrhne.
Some beautiful descriptive writing about quite a bit of squalor. I’m not sure that Cormac McCarthy much lines people. Also it’s a product of its time and all that but it’s time is the late 70s (or perhaps reflecting back as a period piece of the 50s/60s) and so every time the n-word was used it felt jarring and frequently gratuitous. Can’t quite grade it on the Mark Twain/Faulkner curve when it’s not of that vintage. Worth reading, but it is an undertaking.
dark
funny
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I’m not sure I’d actually recommend this book, but the beauty of the prose can’t be ignored. I have to listen to his books on audio so that I don’t get stuck on particular phrases. It’s like nothing I’ve experienced before.
challenging
dark
funny
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
funny
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Worth every second of trying to figure out what the hell Cormac McCarthy is even saying lmao
Also, reading this while living in Knoxville is pretty tight
Also, reading this while living in Knoxville is pretty tight