Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy - P

Disclaimer: I did not read the entire book because it sucks. I made it about 40% of the way through and I am kicking myself for not flushing this steaming pile of poop at the 5% mark. I want my time back!

Blood Meridian is a story about … ummmmm … urrrrrrrr … I don’t know what this story is about. Some kid with a few guys and a spattering of mans rambling through some part of the US or Mexico or a post-apocalyptic Australian desert seeing scores of gruesome, pointless scenes of violence, inhumanity, and death.

While there doesn’t seem to be a story per se, there are a lot of words. Take the word “and” for instance. Some sentences contain 15 or more, so it reads to me like the effort of a helmet-wearing 6-year-old. But I suppose this is what pretentious douchebags call art.

And in contrast to words like “and” which we are familiar with, there are plenty of words not in the dictionary or even in the English language. This is a powerful literary tool for authors that want to seem smart without actually having to make sense. People who enjoy looking down their nose at others and saying, “You don’t get it,” will absolutely love this!!!

When I asked a friend who also had been hoodwinked into reading it, he summed it up best by saying: “Cormac killed me. I no longer understand literature, language, character development, grammar, climax ... nothing matters. Suicide perhaps?”

So in conclusion, this book is pure crap. I highly recommend it to people who disdain grammar, plot, and knowing who is doing what, people who are in need of the literary equivalent of NyQuil, and people who are pretentious assholes.

The one positive that came from reading part of this abortion is that I got some quality fake praise for American MaleWhore in Tokyo thanks to Cormac’s hideous writing style.