This is one Cormac McCarthy novel I haven’t read yet but the 2000 movie version with Matt Damon was on tonight so I, blanket bundled and lifeless on the couch, wearily watched.
The movie was all right, though a bit awash in tears of young love, corrupt Mexican policemen, and lots of twittering Spanish guitar music.
With just one boy of about fifteen killed by the law, it was a rather mild McCarthy I’d say. I’m also surprised at the idea of love–that is, love between a man and a woman rather than a guy and a watermelon–being the core of a McCarthy narrative. There is the interest of two young men in adventure, and there is the grime of the prison and the injustice of man towards his own, but the realm of the romantic is not a familiar McCarthy focus. What’s more, she seemed hardly worth it; a rather spoiled and self-centered young woman who does what she wants then cries foul.
I’m looking forward to the book though, knowing that the nuances of McCarthy must be read.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology