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ferretonfire 's review for:
The Crossing
by Cormac McCarthy, Cormac McCarthy
"The road has its own reasons and no two travellers will have the same understanding of those reasons. If indeed they come to an understanding of them at all."
The second in the Border trilogy, this is my least favourite of the McCarthy books I've read so far. It also contains some of his best writing, and certain scenes will stay in my mind for a long time, as there are ten or twenty page bursts of genius. If these things seem like a contradiction, then it speaks to the fractured nature of the tale McCarthy weaves: stories within stories are laid out before the reader, and they are free to pick and choose which have a poignancy that truly resonates with them.
While Billy Parham acts as the narrative centre — and his character is, in my opinion, the highlight of this novel — themes of trust, heritage and death are also explored through the travellers he meets and the tales they tell. That may be why it took me a long time to complete. With other McCarthy novels I could barely stop reading; by the time I finished this one I had started and ended a number of other books, as every twenty pages or so during middle section I felt myself drifting.
I spoke to someone about this, and mentioned how conflicted it made me feel. "Yeah," he said. "But what about the amazing tale of the blind man? Wasn't that great?" And it was great. Every one of the dozens of stories touched on here had something intriguing in them. But there was a disjointed quality in the way these stories were interwoven that made the middle of this novel feel shaky. That may have been the point, as discovering a brutal country like 1940s Mexico as McCarthy shows it would be dangerous and unsettling. I just didn't enjoy reading it as much as the more cohesive All The Pretty Horses.
Whenever Billy Parham stayed at the forefront, The Crossing was amazing. There are some passages at the beginning told from the wolf's perspective and these felt authentic and primal, engrossing in a way that matches even the strongest sections of Blood Meridian. McCarthy utterly refuses to follow narrative conventions. Violence and death are not triggers that set off exciting chases, and are not followed by catharsis; they come quickly and brutally, with little sentiment, and are all the more devastating because of this.
The first 200 and ending 50 pages were as I have come to expect from McCarthy: brilliant. But the middle section of the book never captured me to the same degree, despite the interesting reflections on both Mexican and American society and the human experience. If I'm disappointed it's only because I had such high expectations. This book took enough risks that it feels both amazing that it's as engrossing as it is, and disappointing that it never quite fulfils its ambitious goals because of its inconsistency.
The ending was perfect, though, hence the four stars. I truly can't wait to read Cities on the Plain.
The second in the Border trilogy, this is my least favourite of the McCarthy books I've read so far. It also contains some of his best writing, and certain scenes will stay in my mind for a long time, as there are ten or twenty page bursts of genius. If these things seem like a contradiction, then it speaks to the fractured nature of the tale McCarthy weaves: stories within stories are laid out before the reader, and they are free to pick and choose which have a poignancy that truly resonates with them.
While Billy Parham acts as the narrative centre — and his character is, in my opinion, the highlight of this novel — themes of trust, heritage and death are also explored through the travellers he meets and the tales they tell. That may be why it took me a long time to complete. With other McCarthy novels I could barely stop reading; by the time I finished this one I had started and ended a number of other books, as every twenty pages or so during middle section I felt myself drifting.
I spoke to someone about this, and mentioned how conflicted it made me feel. "Yeah," he said. "But what about the amazing tale of the blind man? Wasn't that great?" And it was great. Every one of the dozens of stories touched on here had something intriguing in them. But there was a disjointed quality in the way these stories were interwoven that made the middle of this novel feel shaky. That may have been the point, as discovering a brutal country like 1940s Mexico as McCarthy shows it would be dangerous and unsettling. I just didn't enjoy reading it as much as the more cohesive All The Pretty Horses.
Whenever Billy Parham stayed at the forefront, The Crossing was amazing. There are some passages at the beginning told from the wolf's perspective and these felt authentic and primal, engrossing in a way that matches even the strongest sections of Blood Meridian. McCarthy utterly refuses to follow narrative conventions. Violence and death are not triggers that set off exciting chases, and are not followed by catharsis; they come quickly and brutally, with little sentiment, and are all the more devastating because of this.
The first 200 and ending 50 pages were as I have come to expect from McCarthy: brilliant. But the middle section of the book never captured me to the same degree, despite the interesting reflections on both Mexican and American society and the human experience. If I'm disappointed it's only because I had such high expectations. This book took enough risks that it feels both amazing that it's as engrossing as it is, and disappointing that it never quite fulfils its ambitious goals because of its inconsistency.
The ending was perfect, though, hence the four stars. I truly can't wait to read Cities on the Plain.