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gluckenstein 's review for:
No Country for Old Men
by Cormac McCarthy
Kind of don't care about the events of the plot.
When it's sheriff Ed Tom reflecting it's all well and good because it's reflections on life, a terrain that literary fiction have long since deservedly claimed as its own, and because the author has a good control of the cadence of his writing, or the prosody, or whatever the fuck. But when it's not it's disgustingly laconically, tersely described plot about characters not that endearing or interesting, which is random because it's the main point of it that it's random, the dilemma of the sometimes narrator being that he lives in a stubbornly random world.
And Anton Chighur is kind of like Donald Westlake's Parker, only reimagined as a modern, godless world's devil, which is not even THAT exciting.
When it's sheriff Ed Tom reflecting it's all well and good because it's reflections on life, a terrain that literary fiction have long since deservedly claimed as its own, and because the author has a good control of the cadence of his writing, or the prosody, or whatever the fuck. But when it's not it's disgustingly laconically, tersely described plot about characters not that endearing or interesting, which is random because it's the main point of it that it's random, the dilemma of the sometimes narrator being that he lives in a stubbornly random world.
And Anton Chighur is kind of like Donald Westlake's Parker, only reimagined as a modern, godless world's devil, which is not even THAT exciting.