Just finished reading All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy and I’m wrung out. I am a certain dolt for not having taken up McCarthy’s work sooner. His writing is as muscular as the unbroken horses that throb through the story, setting a pace that will stagger you. McCarthy’s vision is one of terrible beauty, impossible to turn away from. There are turns of phrase so pure; they’ll set you to weep.
As a writer, this book left me praying for the wisdom to be still enough to hear the truth, and the guts to write it as fiercely as McCarthy has done.
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