…Because I only just read the first chapter, and I know it’s gonna throw me for a loop, but come on. This whole sequence of events feels like a parody of Westerns– Specifically the “everyone in a bar gets into a fight” trope. I feel like it’s playing out like a Three Stooges sketch.
Dude with a penchant for random acts of violence fights sailors because IDK he’s a cowboy I guess. A freaky-looking judge lies about a priest and you get that moment where the music stops and everyone goes “git 'em!” before they all laugh about how they semi-accidentally murdered an innocent man, because violence funny, Mr. Judge just gave them a pretense and they’re greatful.
A guy named Toadvine insists the kid’s in his way. When the kid refuses to move his immediate reaction is an earnest attempt at murder. They flop around in the mud. When the kid wakes up Toadvine is concerned about the possibility that he broke the kid’s neck because, well, that’s not what he was tryin’ to do. Just kill him. No bad blood between them, they trudge through the mud to hand each other their weapons and the kid wordlessly follows Toadvine (I guess they’re friends now), who immediately goes to attack someone else because… who knows why. Pries their eye out.
It really is as if Blood Meridian is depicting the west as one giant stupid bar fight. I wonder if the punchline that it becomes escalatingly awful over time and how dare you glorify stupid random violence like this? or something?
I don’t know, I’m just ranting. This is strange.
“The writer hated commas and semi colons and full stops and anything that would let a man take rest and contemplate both the novel and his station in life and often to the extent that every paragraph was actually just one endless sentence doing violence to that man’s ability to parse and consider all those elements and often something about bush craft and coffee and something about horses.”