Abstract

Perhaps in the world’s destruction it would be possible at last to see how it was made. Oceans, mountains. The ponderous counterspectacle of things ceasing to be. The sweeping waste, hydroptic and coldly secular. The silence.In recent years, few novelists have gone to chart the abyss of human violence and unflinchingly returned its gaze to shape our vision of apocalypse as has the Irish American author Cormac McCarthy. Writing in thorough obscurity for almost 25 years, he is today considered not only one of America’s greatest living writers but also the heir apparent to the grand literary tradition associated with Melville and Faulkner. Born a decade after René Girard, McCarthy is also a writer whose novels—which...