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rokoprog's review against another edition
dark
funny
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
rfrischke's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
tense
fast-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
4.75
blackjessamine's review against another edition
2.0
Cominciamo col dire che ho preso in biblioteca questo libro “a scatola chiusa”, senza essermi informata minimamente sulla trama, fidandomi semplicemente del consiglio di una persona innamorata della scrittura di McCarthy. Ecco, diciamo che probabilmente se avessi saputo qualche cosa in più sulla trama, con ogni probabilità non mi sarei mai lasciata tentare. Diciamo che a me pallottole, pistole e cervelli saltati per aria non interessano per niente, e se togliamo le sparatorie e il sangue, a questo romanzo restano solo una manciata di ottime intenzioni. Perché non posso negare che qualche cosa di buono ci sia, anche perché mi sono resa conto di averlo divorato nonostante la trama mi annoiasse, eppure mi sembra che tutto quello che c’è di buono (o per lo meno, che per me è buono, poi sicuramente ci sarà chi storcerà il naso davanti ad affermazioni del genere) resti solo in superficie, sia soltanto abbozzato. Una buona intenzione, appunto, che non si concretizza mai in maniera definitiva.
Le pagine finali, no, quelle sono qualche cosa di meraviglioso, e forse vale la pena di leggere tutto il romanzo soltanto per arrivare fino a lì, però non posso fare a meno di pensare che se McCarthy avesse sacrificato un centinaio di pagine di fucili e mitraglie e sangue per dedicare un po’ più di attenzione all’approfondimento psicologico dei suoi personaggi (che potenzialmente potrebbero essere indimenticabili, ma McCarthy sembra accontentarsi di dipingere il loro contorno, di accennarli, e lascia tutta la sostanza all’immaginazione del lettore) il romanzo ne avrebbe gioviato moltissimo.
Lo stile di McCarthy è molto interessante, asciutto ed estremamente incisivo, perfetto per un racconto basato su questi toni. A lungo andare, però, quest’incisività diventa quasi artefatta, macchinosa: soprattutto nei dialoghi (e non parlo tanto della punteggiatura assente, a quello si fa l’abitudine nel giro di poche pagine) questa continua ricerca di sentenze secche e ricche di significato finisce, paradossalmente, per diventare ridondante. Sembra che ad ogni frase tutti i personaggi debbano affermare sentenze cariche di verità e pregne di significato, e se questo può essere apprezzabile in determinati contesti, se si applica questo stile anche in un dialogo in cui si sta solo discutendo se per cena sia meglio mangiare pollo fritto o bistecche, be’, francamente il risultato è vagamente grottesco e ridicolo.
Insomma, in conclusione dire che la scrittura di McCarhy potrebbe anche piacermi, non fosse per la trama, che io ho trovato terribilmente noiosa e inutile. Proverò ad informarmi meglio, e se dovessi scoprire un libro di McCarthy in cui pallottole e buchi in fronte sono contenuti, cercherò sicuramente di dargli un’altra possibilità.
Le pagine finali, no, quelle sono qualche cosa di meraviglioso, e forse vale la pena di leggere tutto il romanzo soltanto per arrivare fino a lì, però non posso fare a meno di pensare che se McCarthy avesse sacrificato un centinaio di pagine di fucili e mitraglie e sangue per dedicare un po’ più di attenzione all’approfondimento psicologico dei suoi personaggi (che potenzialmente potrebbero essere indimenticabili, ma McCarthy sembra accontentarsi di dipingere il loro contorno, di accennarli, e lascia tutta la sostanza all’immaginazione del lettore) il romanzo ne avrebbe gioviato moltissimo.
Lo stile di McCarthy è molto interessante, asciutto ed estremamente incisivo, perfetto per un racconto basato su questi toni. A lungo andare, però, quest’incisività diventa quasi artefatta, macchinosa: soprattutto nei dialoghi (e non parlo tanto della punteggiatura assente, a quello si fa l’abitudine nel giro di poche pagine) questa continua ricerca di sentenze secche e ricche di significato finisce, paradossalmente, per diventare ridondante. Sembra che ad ogni frase tutti i personaggi debbano affermare sentenze cariche di verità e pregne di significato, e se questo può essere apprezzabile in determinati contesti, se si applica questo stile anche in un dialogo in cui si sta solo discutendo se per cena sia meglio mangiare pollo fritto o bistecche, be’, francamente il risultato è vagamente grottesco e ridicolo.
Insomma, in conclusione dire che la scrittura di McCarhy potrebbe anche piacermi, non fosse per la trama, che io ho trovato terribilmente noiosa e inutile. Proverò ad informarmi meglio, e se dovessi scoprire un libro di McCarthy in cui pallottole e buchi in fronte sono contenuti, cercherò sicuramente di dargli un’altra possibilità.
mishka_espey's review against another edition
5.0
I’ve had an inexplicable fascination with No Country for Old Men for a very long time, even before watching the Coen Brothers’ Oscar-winning film adaptation. Twice over Christmas break I attempted to pick it up, and both times lost steam within in the first couple dozen pages. Settling back down into the routines of the post-holiday grind, though, I picked it up once more, and the third time was indeed the charm. I tore through it by the end of the week.
You see, No Country is not the most accessible of novels. In order to fully immerse his readers in the bleakness of his world, McCarthy abandons the use of quotation marks in dialogue altogether, as well as most punctuation and grammar rules. Breaking into this world might be challenging for readers in the same way it would be challenging to listen to someone tell a story in a foreign accent. The deeper you venture, though, the more the words begin to spring off the page. The dialogue drips with wickedly dark humor. Scenes of bloody shootouts practically pulse with adrenaline. The characters look you straight in the eyes. And by the final pages, I felt like I’d mastered a new language. The lack of quotation marks that so irked me in the first few chapters no longer even registered as I swept through the pages.
Although a definitive time period is given (1980) and a nonfictional county serves as the backdrop (Terrell; population 810), the story transcends its setting with an eerie timelessness. It could be 2027. It could be 1908. Nothing would change the course of the three interwoven trails we follow: those of Llewelyn Moss, Anton Chigurh, and Sheriff Ed Tom Bell.
Moss stumbles upon the open grave of an illegal drug deal over the Tex-Mex border gone very wrong. Knowing full well that he may be signing his own death warrant, he flees the scene with the dealers’ $2.4 million in cash. In the wake of Moss’s disappearance, Sheriff Bell investigates the bloody crime scene and, quickly realizing the danger Moss is in, strives to protect him and the young wife he’s left behind.
Hired to recover the stolen cash is psychopathic assassin Anton Chigurh, arguably one of literature’s most blood-chilling villains. He is a man of few words and fewer emotions. His weapon of choice is a captive bolt pistol, which kills instantly and leaves no bullets. Insane though he may be, he holds to a warped yet unwavering set of principles. As someone explains it to Moss, “Even if you gave him the money, he’d still kill you for inconveniencing him.” The only way to survive an encounter with Chigurh is the fifty/fifty chance of a coin toss, if he deigns to offer you the choice.
There is so much more boiling beneath the surface of this sun-parched tale than a simple western saga. McCarthy examines morality—the senselessness of evil, the absurdity of altruism—with unflinching honesty. His characters serve as mouthpieces for entire world-views without ever sacrificing their own authenticity. He probes deep into questions about the nature of our world and leaves the wound open for the reader to explore. And he does it all in the midst of a story never bogged down by heavy exposition or stilted internal monologues. For example, look at the way Sheriff Bell posits the idea that perhaps there’s Someone good looking out for us bumbling humans after all:
I can safely say that I’ve never read and never will read anything even remotely like No Country. After reading up on Cormac McCarthy, it sounds like the author himself has never written anything else like it. Give yourself time to settle into the rhythm of his world and suddenly it will sweep you away, shock you, sear you with its heat, and afterwards, haunt you.
You see, No Country is not the most accessible of novels. In order to fully immerse his readers in the bleakness of his world, McCarthy abandons the use of quotation marks in dialogue altogether, as well as most punctuation and grammar rules. Breaking into this world might be challenging for readers in the same way it would be challenging to listen to someone tell a story in a foreign accent. The deeper you venture, though, the more the words begin to spring off the page. The dialogue drips with wickedly dark humor. Scenes of bloody shootouts practically pulse with adrenaline. The characters look you straight in the eyes. And by the final pages, I felt like I’d mastered a new language. The lack of quotation marks that so irked me in the first few chapters no longer even registered as I swept through the pages.
Although a definitive time period is given (1980) and a nonfictional county serves as the backdrop (Terrell; population 810), the story transcends its setting with an eerie timelessness. It could be 2027. It could be 1908. Nothing would change the course of the three interwoven trails we follow: those of Llewelyn Moss, Anton Chigurh, and Sheriff Ed Tom Bell.
Moss stumbles upon the open grave of an illegal drug deal over the Tex-Mex border gone very wrong. Knowing full well that he may be signing his own death warrant, he flees the scene with the dealers’ $2.4 million in cash. In the wake of Moss’s disappearance, Sheriff Bell investigates the bloody crime scene and, quickly realizing the danger Moss is in, strives to protect him and the young wife he’s left behind.
Hired to recover the stolen cash is psychopathic assassin Anton Chigurh, arguably one of literature’s most blood-chilling villains. He is a man of few words and fewer emotions. His weapon of choice is a captive bolt pistol, which kills instantly and leaves no bullets. Insane though he may be, he holds to a warped yet unwavering set of principles. As someone explains it to Moss, “Even if you gave him the money, he’d still kill you for inconveniencing him.” The only way to survive an encounter with Chigurh is the fifty/fifty chance of a coin toss, if he deigns to offer you the choice.
There is so much more boiling beneath the surface of this sun-parched tale than a simple western saga. McCarthy examines morality—the senselessness of evil, the absurdity of altruism—with unflinching honesty. His characters serve as mouthpieces for entire world-views without ever sacrificing their own authenticity. He probes deep into questions about the nature of our world and leaves the wound open for the reader to explore. And he does it all in the midst of a story never bogged down by heavy exposition or stilted internal monologues. For example, look at the way Sheriff Bell posits the idea that perhaps there’s Someone good looking out for us bumbling humans after all:
People think they know what they want but they generally dont. Sometimes if they’re lucky they’ll get it anyways. Me I was always lucky. My whole life. I wouldnt be here otherwise. Scrapes I been in. But the day I seen her come out of Kerr’s Mercantile and cross the street and she passed me and I tipped my hat to her and got just almost a smile back, that was the luckiest.
People complain about the bad things that happen to em that they dont deserve but they seldom mention the good. About what they done to deserve them things. I dont recall that I ever give the good Lord all that much cause to smile on me. But he did.
I can safely say that I’ve never read and never will read anything even remotely like No Country. After reading up on Cormac McCarthy, it sounds like the author himself has never written anything else like it. Give yourself time to settle into the rhythm of his world and suddenly it will sweep you away, shock you, sear you with its heat, and afterwards, haunt you.
haldols's review against another edition
5.0
pretty sure this fundamentally altered my brain chemistry
cool_catz's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.25
tja33's review against another edition
dark
mysterious
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
kfmarback's review against another edition
dark
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
aryan7477's review against another edition
dark
lighthearted
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
“What do you say to a man who by his own admission has no soul? Why would you say anything?"
Having already seen the film, I wonder how that would have changed my experience with the novel. I adored "Blood Meridian" so much that I decided to give this a try. The film masterfully created suspense, while the novel focuses more on Ed Tom Bell and his introspection. I loved his inner monologues at the beginning of each chapter. The story delves into themes of fate and the inherent nature of human beings. Anton was more enigmatic in the film. He is as an instrument of fate. I love how Mccarthy doesn't reveal all details and we have to fill the gaps. The dialogue is crisp. The humor is underrated. I can't decide whether I prefer the book or the film, as they each concentrate on different aspects, but both are amazing in their own right.
Having already seen the film, I wonder how that would have changed my experience with the novel. I adored "Blood Meridian" so much that I decided to give this a try. The film masterfully created suspense, while the novel focuses more on Ed Tom Bell and his introspection. I loved his inner monologues at the beginning of each chapter. The story delves into themes of fate and the inherent nature of human beings. Anton was more enigmatic in the film. He is as an instrument of fate. I love how Mccarthy doesn't reveal all details and we have to fill the gaps. The dialogue is crisp. The humor is underrated. I can't decide whether I prefer the book or the film, as they each concentrate on different aspects, but both are amazing in their own right.