Grandiose, feverish, opaque.
Virtually all of McCarthy's idiosyncratic fiction (The Orchard Keeper, Child of God, Suttree) is suffused with fierce pessimism, relentlessly illustrating the feral destiny of mankind; and this new novel is no exception—though it is equally committed to a large allegorical structure, one that yanks its larger-than-life figures across a sere historical stage.
“The kid”—a Tennessee teenager—wanders aimlessly into the Texas Indian wars of the 1850s. First he's taken on by a wandering troop of ex-American soldiers, planning its own raid into Mexico. Then, after thoroughgoing slaughter of the troops by the Indians, the kid survives to be recruited as a scalp-hunter in a band of Mexican-financed marauders—led by a madman named Glanton, along with his associate: The Judge, a hairless God-or-devil figure who is capable of great ingenuity (when the men run out of gunpowder, The Judge alchemizes a new batch) but who also indulges in eccentric sermons to explain his bloodthirsty brand of philosophy. (“If God meant to intrude in the degeneracy of mankind would he not have done so by now?...The way of the world is to bloom and to flower and die but in the affairs of men there is no waning and the noon of his expression signals the onset of night. His spirit is exhausted at the peak of its achievement. His meridian is at once his darkening and the evening of his days.”) McCarthy, even more than in previous novels, strains for prophetic, Bible-like tones here—with a cast of allegorical types (a judge, a fool, an ex-priest, the kid) and an archaic vocabulary that lurches from “kerfs” and “bedight” to “rimpled” and “thrapple.” But, though there's something stubbornly impressive about McCarthy's unwavering gloom, the novel's unceasing slaughter sometimes suggests a spaghetti-western without a hero, all gore and blazing sun—while its stentorian, pretentious prose will quickly dissuade most readers from attempting to share McCarthy's dark vision. (“He'd long forsworn all weighing of consequence and allowing as he did that men's destinies are given yet he usurped to contain within him all that he would ever be in the world and all that the world would be to him and be his charter written in the urstone itself he claimed agency and said so and,” etc.).
Grandiose, feverish, opaque.Pub Date: March 1, 1982
ISBN: 0679728759
Page Count: -
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: Sept. 30, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1985
SEEN & HEARD
PERSPECTIVES
IN THE NEWS
A depiction of Achilles’ endless grief for Patroclus becomes itself nearly endless.
An accomplished hand at historical fiction respins the final weeks of the Trojan War.
For her 14th novel, Booker Prize–winning Barker plucks her direction from the first line of the Iliad: “Divine Muse, sing of the ruinous wrath of Achilles....” The archetypal Greek warrior’s battle cries ring throughout these pages, beginning on the first. The novel opens as Achilles and his soldiers sack Lyrnessus, closing in on the women and children hiding in the citadel. Narrating their terrifying approach is Briseis, the local queen who sees her husband and brothers slaughtered below. She makes a fateful choice not to follow her cousin over the parapet to her death. She becomes instead Achilles’ war trophy. Briseis calls herself “a disappointment...a skinny little thing, all hair and eyes and scarcely a curve in sight.” But in the Greek military encampment on the outskirts of Troy, she stirs much lust, including in the commander Agamemnon. So far, so faithful to Homer. Barker’s innovation rests in the female perspective, something she wove masterfully into her Regeneration and Life Class trilogies about World War I. Here she gives Briseis a wry voice and a watchful nature; she likens herself as a mouse to Achilles’ hawk. Even as the men boast and drink and fight their way toward immortality, the camp women live outwardly by Barker’s title. Their lives depend on knowing their place: “Men carve meaning into women’s faces; messages addressed to other men.” Barker writes 47 brisk chapters of smooth sentences; her dialogue, as usual, hums with intelligence. But unlike her World War I novels, the verisimilitude quickly thins. Her knowledge of antiquity is not nearly as assured as Madeline Miller’s in The Song of Achilles and Circe. Barker’s prose is awkwardly thick with Briticisms—breasts are “wrinkled dugs” or “knockers.” And she mistakenly gives the Greeks a military field hospital, which was an innovation of the Romans.
A depiction of Achilles’ endless grief for Patroclus becomes itself nearly endless.Pub Date: Sept. 11, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-385-54421-4
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Doubleday
Review Posted Online: July 1, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 2018
An atmospheric but overlong history of family secrets and their tormented gatekeepers.
A suspected kidnapping, a once-proud manor house, and a disgraced police officer all figure in Morton’s latest multigenerational Cornish saga.
In 2003, Sadie is put on administrative leave from her post with the London police force for getting too involved in a child-abandonment case. She retreats to her grandfather’s house in Cornwall, and there, while jogging, she happens upon the ruin of what locals inform her is Loeanneth, the ancestral lakeside manse of the deShiel family. The story ricochets among 2003, 1911, and 1933 as we learn that Eleanor deShiel, who inspired a children’s book reminiscent of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, became the chatelaine of Loeanneth thanks to a Downton Abbey–esque plot twist in which, due to the Titanic disaster, new husband Anthony Edevane inherits enough money to reclaim her birthright from creditors. But when Anthony goes to war, he returns shell-shocked and prone to unpredictable outbursts. Meanwhile, their children, Deborah, Alice and Clemmie, frolic on the grounds, oblivious to their parents’ difficulties. Alice, 16, is a budding mystery writer (whose future fame will equal Agatha Christie’s), but in 1933 she’s nursing a teenage crush on Ben, an impecunious gardener. As a lark, she concocts a hypothetical scenario which might have prompted Ben to kidnap Theo, her baby brother. Flashbacks reveal that Deborah and Clemmie also have reason to blame themselves for Theo’s disappearance during an all-night Midsummer’s Eve party—he was never found and his fate remains unknown. At loose ends, Sadie investigates this cold case, developing several theories. As the various skeins intersect, the story becomes unwieldy; using multiple narrators, Morton can believably withhold information to build suspense, but when such selective nondisclosure is carried to extremes, frustrated readers may be tempted to practice their skimming.
An atmospheric but overlong history of family secrets and their tormented gatekeepers.Pub Date: Oct. 20, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-4516-4932-1
Page Count: 512
Publisher: Atria
Review Posted Online: July 27, 2015
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2015
© Copyright 2026 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Follow
Popular in this Genre
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
