Couldn’t stay away from it, with it’s shades of red cover, crisp white lettering, faded silhouette of a running man…and of course, McCarthy’s like a Willie-fantasy for the literary part of my brain. So No Country for Old Men will be read alongside Ethan Frome.
Edith Wharton’s Frome is what I’d consider an easy read–especially after Faulkner, Joyce, Woolf, and yes, McCarthy. There does not seem to be multi-layers of meanings woven through the story, although I’m not saying it’s one-dimensional. Even the simplest phrase can be taken many ways, but when something is written by the author as straightforward story, while it will contain those nuances of the author’s own subconsciousness and allow for the reader’s own, it doesn’t necessarily hold questions that reach far beyond the story itself.
Not so with McCarthy. Perhaps his own reticent social nature touches his writing; you have a feeling he’s not telling all, but subtly his thoughts come through. The reader may discover these breadcrumbs to follow a different trail as well as hack through new trails of his own.
Besides, I’m waiting for some philosophy books to come in, so there’s some down-time. And, if I’m still on McCarthy, he’s likely one of the best candidates to go along with a philosophical study.