So many books, so little time

This is my second reading and I found it even more impactful than the first. The disorientation I had felt was gone. I knew what characters to focus on, I knew the setting, the rival parties, and the violence and bloodshed that lay ahead. I was forced to focus instead of being at a more comfortable arm’s length.

With all the horrible violence Blood Meridian is also full of beauty.

“All night the wind blew and the fine dust set their teeth on edge. Sand in everything, grit in all they ate. In the morning a urinecolored sun rose blearily through panes of dust on a dim world and without feature. The animals were failing. They halted and made a dry camp without wood or water and the wretched ponies huddled and whimpered like dogs.”

“They halted in the dark to recruit the animals and some of the men stowed their arms in the wagons for fear of drawing lightning and a man named Hayward prayed for rain.”

Subtle things like “and a man named Hayward prayed for rain” makes this basic sentence stand out for reasons I can’t really describe. Maybe it’s just a matter of flow and specificity.

This is a magnificent work of art. I don’t know that it’s my favorite of his works but it is undoubtedly his masterpiece.

Written at a time when the two modes of thought were the superiority of the white man and the noble savage Blood Meridian obliterates both myths. I don’t know that the book played any part in developing a more clear view of indigenous peoples and their relations with each other, Mexicans, and white settlers but it could have. For that reason among many others I consider Blood Meridian one of the great American novels.

Blood Meridian obliterates. It obliterates our conception of our nature, the myths of our nation, our very soul.