Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian - Report
The party was much reduced on Thursday night, down to just four weary travellers
staggering into the cantina. Lisa's horse was lame (parking issues); George was
all in black, his face set in ancient stone as if he were looking for a fight;
John took out his notebook as if to record the evenings foetid ramblings. Your
narrator remained largely detached only breaking form to do a coin trick.
But enough of the parody. This was one of the most fulsome and vocal
discussions in a long while, the book's symbolism, brutality and narrative
voice provoking the main points of discussion. It was universally 'enjoyed' by
the four scalp-hunters present and while weaknesses were alluded to they were
largely usurped by praise and acclaim. A particular point of discussion was
John's
love of McCarthy's language and poetry; when John's book
looks like a gap-toothed vagrant you know he's had a good time. George made
some excellent arguments about McCarthy's use of violence and how it reflected
a society, nay, humanity that is inherently brutal and venal. There was some
good stuff, too, about how violence can desensitize the soul. Lisa was
impressed by the sweep and grandeur of the book and enjoyed a tome that allowed
many interpretations and left the reader punch-drunk. I thought the book was
largely carried along by its Miltonic poetry and found the audacity of it
compelling. We all agreed that we would read it again (although perhaps many
years hence) and it would no doubt throw up much more food for thought and
perhaps be seen differently again by older, wiser eyes.
There were weaknesses - the repetition, repetition, repetition - grated at
times and the middle section felt a bit more detached and unfocussed than the
rest, but Blood Meridian was never going to be an easy, plot-driven read. A
great work of literature or a pretentious dark mirror to the Bible? This group
were most definitely in the former camp, thankfully alive and un-caged.
There was an unsavoury final twist to the evening, however, when Lisa pointed
out the man at the bar - a regular donned in shorts made from some beast
unknown in these parts. He was quickly dealt with by the four with a brutality
and swiftness that initially shocked the other patrons. Stabbed to death,
dis-robed, flayed and then hung upside down from a coat stand; a gory example
to others contemplating such fashion whimsy. But that was not all. Caught up in
the blood fever the other patrons soon discovered their base natures, taking
the corpse down from its peg, urinating and sodomising it in turn till they
turned to dancing a merry jig on what was left of the flesh and bones. The
slick remains were held aloft and carried in jubilant procession up Byres Road
and finally burnt outside Crepe a Croissant so that nothing remained except the
charred coagulate of his preterite life.
