Cormac McCarthy Blew My Mind. Again.

I finished it in two sittings. If I didn't have to get off of the plane in LAX and if I didn't sleep through the first three hours of that plane ride, I would have consumed it whole in one shot. It may be the best book I have ever read. I am still trying to come to terms with it and it is still haunting me. It just recently won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and John Hillcoat (of The Proposition fame) is slated to direct the film. Fuck. Yes.

One of the highlights of my weekend was walking down Sunset Boulevard in the rain on Sunday and hearing from Frat. He was similarly affected. Both of us were (are) at a loss for words in regards to the book, the impact and relevance to our modern times.

The last two books I've read are McCarthy novels (the other being No Country for Old Men). I found myself not wanting to read anything else. How could I pick up a book after the journey I just went on? Frat told me that he was pushing through, had to score something else and keep on moving. I took the advice and decided to pick up another book by one of America's greats: The Human Stain by Philip Roth. So far, so good.

Apocalypse Now

I know. I know. I've talked about two things in the past two days. Cormac McCarthy and Queens of the Stone Age. But I really can't handle the sticker. I almost didn't believe Win Butler. I didn't want to. First Faulkner. Now McCarthy.

If you see me reading it, stop me and ask to see the cover. There will be a hole cut into my cover. You know what? Fuck that. I'm getting the hardcover. Used. I feel so impure.

Further investigation puts my jaw on the floor. On the floor. Cormac McCarthy, a television appearance. On Oprah. The man rarely does interviews. (One? The NY Times article?) And the last I read of him was in a brief Vanity Fair article that focused on his reclusiveness.

Fuck. After the episode with Dave Chappelle, I thought I was in the clear for eternity. Just when you think you are out they pull you back in. And the only way to get up to the minute info on when C-Mac will grace the airwaves...is to sign up for the Book Club. It's 10:44 AM. And I need a fucking cocktail.

Further On Up The Road

KinoSport has been busy, or maybe I just caught up. Great stuff lately. Here is the latest: graffiti, Calvin Klein and Don DeLillo.

I'll never forget picking up Underworld at some point soon after 9/11 and being completely leveled by the image on the cover. The book, after all, came out in 1997. But, that's another discussion, for another place.

I'll be off to pick up the paperback edition of McCarthy's The Road today, pushed by the knowledge that it now exists in paperback and can therefore, can be rolled, folded, crammed, stored and devoured in a way that a hardbound book never could. Someone told me it was better than Blood Meridian. That's a strong statement. And I don't know how I feel about it.