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Executive Times |
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2005 Book Reviews |
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No
Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy |
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Rating:
••• (Recommended) |
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Click on
title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Stun The rawness of plot, landscape and
character belies the underlying complexity in Cormac McCarthy’s new novel, No
Country For Old Men. There’s a battle between good and evil among the
characters in this modern Western, where the violence will stun some readers.
McCarthy uses dialect with precision, and develops characters expertly.
Beneath the plot line, there’s a story about society and the struggle for
community. Here’s an excerpt, from
the beginning of Section II, pp. 38-47: I
dont know if law
enforcement work is more dangerous now than what it used to be or not. I know
when I first took office you’d have a fistfight somewheres and you’d go to
break it up and they’d offer to fight you. And sometimes you had to
accommodate em. They wouldnt have it no other way. And you’d better not lose,
neither. You dont see that so much no more, but maybe you see worse. I had a
man pull a gun on me one time and it happened that I grabbed it just as he
went to fire and the plunger on the hammer went right through the fleshy part
of my thumb. You can see the mark of it there. But that man had ever
intention of killin me. A few years ago and it wasnt that many neither I was
goin out one of these little two lane blacktop roads of a night and I come up
on a pickup truck that they was two old boys settin in the bed of it. They
kindly blinked in the lights and I backed off some but the truck had Coahuila
plates on it and I thought, well, I need to stop these old boys and take a
look. So I hit the lights and whenever I done that I seen the slider window
in the back of the cab open and here come somebody passin a shotgun out the
window to the old boy settin in the bed of the truck. I’ll tell you right now
I hit them brakes with both feet. It skidded the
unit sideways to where the lights was goin out into the brush but the last
thing I seen in the bed of the truck was the old boy puttin that shotgun to
his shoulder. I hit the seat and l just had hit it when here come the windshield all over me in them little bitty
pieces they break up into. I still had one foot on the brake and I could feel
the cruiser slidin down into the bar ditch and I thought it was goin to roll
but it didnt. It filled the car just full of dirt. The old boy he opened up
on me twice more and shot all the glass out of one side of the cruiser and by
then I’d come to a stop and I laid there in the seat, had my pistol out, and
I heard that pickup leave out and I raised up and fired several shots at the
taillights but they was long gone. Point
bein you dont know what all you’re stoppin when you do stop somebody. You
take out on the highway. You walk up to a car and you dont know what you’re
liable to find. I set there in that cruiser for a long time. The motor had
died but the lights was still on. Cab full of glass
and dirt. I got out and kindly shook myself off and got back in and just set
there. Just kindly collectin my thoughts. Windshield wipers hangin in on the
dashboard. I turned off the lights and I just set there. You take somebody
that will actually throw down on a law enforcement officer and open fire, you have got some very serious people. I never saw
that truck again. Nobody else did neither. Or not
them plates noways. Maybe I should of took out after
it. Or tried to. I dont know. I drove back to Sanderson and pulled in at the
cafe and l’ll tell you they come from all over to see that cruiser. It was
shot just full of holes. Looked like the Bonnie and I read the papers ever
mornin. Mostly I suppose just to try and figure out what might be headed this
way. Not that I’ve done all that good a job at headin it off. It keeps gettin
harder. Here a while back they was two boys run into one another and one of
em was from California and one from Florida. And they met somewheres or other
in between. And then they set out together travelin around the country killin
people. I forget how many they did kill. Now what are the chances of a thing
like that? Them two had never laid eyes on one
another. There cant be that many of em. I dont
think. Well, we dont know. Here the other day they was a woman put her baby
in a trash compactor. Who would think of such a thing? My wife wont read the papers no more. She’s probably right. She
generally is. The phone rang. He reached and picked
it up. Sheriff Bell, he said. He listened. He nodded. Mrs Downie I believe he’ll come down
directly. Why dont you call me back here in a little bit. Yes mam. He took off his hat and put it on the
desk and sat with his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yes mam,
he said. Yes mam. Mrs Downie I havent seen that many dead
cats in trees. I think he’ll come down directly if you’ll just leave him be.
You call me back in a little bit, you hear? He hung the phone up and sat looking at
it. It’s money, he said. You have enough money you dont have to talk to
people about cats in trees. Well. Maybe you do. The radio squawked. He picked up the
receiver and pushed the button and put his feet up on the desk. He sat listening. He
lowered his feet to the floor and sat up. Get the keys and look in the
turtle. That’s all right. I’m right here. He drummed his fingers on
the desk. All right. Keep your lights
on. I’ll be there in fifty minutes. And Torbert? Shut the trunk. He and Wendell pulled onto the paved
shoulder in front of the unit and parked and got out. Torbert got out and was
standing by the door of his car. The sheriff nodded. He walked along the edge
of the roadway studying the tire tracks. You seen this, I reckon, he said. Yessir. Well let’s take a look. Torbert opened the trunk
and they stood looking at the body. The front of the man’s shirt was covered
with blood, partly dried. His whole face was bloody. I didnt look to see if he
had a billfold on him. That’s all right. He dont.
This here was just dumb luck. He studied the hole in the
man’s forehead. Looks like a .45. Clean. Almost like a wadcutter. What’s a wadcutter? It’s a target round. You
got the keys? Yessir. Yes sir. Fill out the report same as any report. Yessir. White male, late thirties, medium
build. How do you spell Wyrick? You dont spell it. We dont know what
his name is. Yessir. He might have a family someplace. Yessir. Sheriff? Yes. What do we have on the perpetrator? We dont. Give Wendell your keys fore
you forget it. They’re in the unit. Well let’s not be leavin keys in the
units. Yessir. I’ll see you in two days’
time. Yessir. I hope that son of a bitch
is in Yessir. I know what you
mean. I got a feelin he aint. Yessir. I do too. Wendell, you ready? Wendell leaned and spat.
Yessir, he said. I’m ready. He looked at Torbert. You get stopped with that
old boy in the turtle just tell em you dont know nothin about it. Tell em
somebody must of put him in there while you was
havin coffee. Torbert nodded. You and
the sheriff goin to come down and get me off of death row? If we cant
get you out we’ll get in there with you. You all dont be makin
light of the dead thataway, Wendell nodded. Yessir, he
said. You’re right. I might be one myself some day. Driving out 90 toward the
turnoff at Dryden he came across a hawk dead in the road. He saw the feathers
move in the wind. He pulled over and got out and walked back and squatted on
his bootheels and looked at it. He raised one wing and let it fall again.
Cold yellow eye dead to the blue vault above them. It was a big redtail. He
picked it up by one wingtip and carried it to the bar ditch and laid it in the
grass. They would hunt the blacktop, sitting on the high powerpoles and watching
the highway in both directions for miles. Any small thing that might venture
to cross. Closing on their prey against the sun. Shadowless. Lost in the
concentration of the hunter. He wouldnt have the trucks running over it. He stood there looking out
across the desert. So quiet. Low hum of wind in the wires. High bloodweeds
along the road. Wiregrass and sacahuista. Beyond in the stone arroyos the
tracks of dragons. The raw rock mountains shadowed in the late sun and to the
east the shimmering abscissa of the desert plains under a sky where
raincurtains hung dark as soot all along the quadrant. That god lives in
silence who has scoured the following land with salt and ash. He walked back
to the cruiser and got in and pulled away. When he pulled up in front
of the sheriff’s office in What’s happened, Sheriff? I dont know, said He ducked under the tape
and went up the steps. Lamar looked up when he tapped at the door. Come in,
Ed Tom, he said. Come in. We got hell to pay here. They walked out on the courthouse
lawn. Some of the men followed them. You all go on, said Lamar. Me and the sheriff here need to talk. He looked haggard. He looked at I hear you. You got anything to go on? Not really. Lamar looked away. He wiped his eyes
with the back of his sleeve. I’ll tell you right now. This son of a bitch
will never see a day in court. Not if I catch him he wont. Well, we need to catch him first. That boy was married. I didnt know that. Twenty-three year old. Clean cut boy. Straight
as a die. Now I got to go out to his house fore his wife hears it on the damn
radio. I dont envy you that. I surely dont. I think I’m goin to quit, Ed Tom. You want me to go out there with you? No. I appreciate it. I need to go. All right. I just have this feelin we’re looking
at somethin we really aint never even seen before. I got the same feelin. Let me call you
this evenin. I appreciate it. He watched Lamar cross the lawn and
climb the steps to his office. I hope you dont quit, he said. I think we’re
goin to need all of you we can get. Chance and luck change lives in No
Country For Old Men, and McCarthy tells the story with skill. Today’s
world needs something that appears to be missing. Steve Hopkins,
August 25, 2005 |
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ã 2005 Hopkins and Company, LLC The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the September
2005 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/No
Country For Old Men.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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