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An epic novel of the violence and depravity that attended America's westward expansion, Blood Meridian brilliantly subverts the conventions of the Western novel and the mythology of the "wild west." Based on historical events that took place on the Texas-Mexico border in the 1850s, it traces the fortunes of the Kid, a fourteen-year-old Tennesseean who stumbles into the nightmarish world where Indians are being murdered and the market for their scalps is thriving.
Publisher's Note: The 25th Anniversary Edition has been reset, causing the text to reflow. Page references based on earlier editions will no longer apply, so Vintage Books has compiled the following chart as a conversion aid. Download the chart by copying and pasting the following link into your browser:
http://knopfdoubleday.com/marketing/BloodMeridianPageReference.pdf
- Sales Rank: #2940 in Books
- Published on: 1992-05-05
- Released on: 1992-05-05
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 7.98" h x .76" w x 5.19" l,
- Binding: Paperback
- 368 pages
Amazon.com Review
"The men as they rode turned black in the sun from the blood on their clothes and their faces and then paled slowly in the rising dust until they assumed once more the color of the land through which they passed." If what we call "horror" can be seen as including any literature that has dark, horrific subject matter, then Blood Meridian is, in this reviewer's estimation, the best horror novel ever written. It's a perverse, picaresque Western about bounty hunters for Indian scalps near the Texas-Mexico border in the 1850s--a ragged caravan of indiscriminate killers led by an unforgettable human monster called "The Judge." Imagine the imagery of Sam Peckinpah and Heironymus Bosch as written by William Faulkner, and you'll have just an inkling of this novel's power. From the opening scenes about a 14-year-old Tennessee boy who joins the band of hunters to the extraordinary, mythic ending, this is an American classic about extreme violence.
Review
"McCarthy is a writer to be read, to be admired, and quite honestly—envied."
—Ralph Ellison
"McCarthy is a born narrator, and his writing has, line by line, the stab of actuality. He is here to stay."
—Robert Penn Warren
From the Hardcover edition.
From the Inside Flap
An epic novel of the violence and depravity that attended America's westward expansion, Blood Meridianbrilliantly subverts the conventions of the Western novel and the mythology of the "wild west." Based on historical events that took place on the Texas-Mexico border in the 1850s, it traces the fortunes of the Kid, a fourteen-year-old Tennesseean who stumbles into the nightmarish world where Indians are being murdered and the market for their scalps is thriving.
Most helpful customer reviews
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
It's a different medium.
By BCon
The people who scoff at McCarthy, this book specifically, don't seem to understand his style. It's not that they're wrong to call it "hard to read" and "plotless". And I'm not trying to sound pretentious here. I agree with them semantically. It is not an easy to read piece, a normal article of literature that follows a smooth plot curve with complex, developing characters. It also isn't even cryptic poetry. I honestly think it's simpler than that. In the few interviews, and instances where he has been directly quoted, he explains it -- he's a naturalistic writer. He's simply narrating every second of a life in a real world. No one -- not him, not the characters, not us -- knows the plot. There is no plot in life. And his writing is very straight forward and flowing --"The judge walked." "They crossed the western edge of the playa." He's just taking you on a visual journey. And it's all a terrifyingly vivid journey, as close to reality as you can get. That's the beauty of it. Almost all literature distorts reality in some way for the sake of the "story" and what is supposed to be included in it. But real life is not a piece of literature. McCarthy captures real life. And it doesn't surprise me that he says his best friends are not writers but scientists. He hates writers. His idea of literature is almost that of scientific observation of humanity, and humanity's story is a strange and animalistic one, not some blocky cartoon.
I can tell you that I don't like his stuff for the same reasons as anyone else. I'm not going to sit and read it for the same reason I would read a non-fiction narrative or something. Life is short and you can't always devote hours of your time slogging through such a vivid record of one characters life, only to find no meaning at the end. But sometimes I want to, and I have to applaud McCarthy on being one of the only people who can open that door in the world of literature.
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
A Brilliant Psychedelic Western!
By Karl P.
Cormac McCarthy's absolutely brilliant Psychedelic western, Blood Meridian, is the pinnacle of extreme gore and brutally honest anti-hero westerns!
Poetic and stark, this book moves briskly from chapter to chapter with the swiftness of a Bowie knife slicing through throats and the pugilistic thud of two thumbs pressed into eye sockets plucking two marbled eyeballs from a living human's skull.
This is one of the best and last books on the West that need to be transmogrified into cinematic form. Oh what an absolutely stunning film someone could make from this terror tale.
One can taste the arrid dry climate, and thick viscous blood while reading this book. Purely visual and yet totally almost impossible to film; at least in any traditional cinematic form. Perhaps a truly talented filmmaker could turn this truly bloody story into one helluva masterful mini-series. One part Deadwood, one part Sam Peckinpah; but always pure McCarthy. This is a stunning and haunting book.
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
A challenging and worthwhile read
By demerson19
Rarely, okay, never have I read a book which is so simultaneously abhorrent and appealing. Blood Meridian is a book that treats violence as a commonplace occurrence, and offers little respite in its continual assault on all (or anything, please anything) that is good in the world. The prose is stark, direct, and often undefinable (perhaps somewhere, but I often found words for which no definition can be found). The novel immerses you in a world of evil and violence far more terrifying than any post-apocalyptic book can create. And this, indeed, is how I came to this “masterwork” by Cormac McCarthy (bio). I’ve read a few of his novels, and consider “The Road” (blogged about here) one of my all time favorite novels.
This novel centers around “the kid” in the 1850s as he travels from his home state of Tennessee and joins up with the Glanton Gang, a real-life group of killers (there are probably more appropriate terms, but I’m calling them what they are) led by John Joel Glanton. Hired by the Mexican government to fight off attacking Native Americans, they killed any Native American they could since they were paid by the scalp. Women, children, unarmed men — it makes no difference. Even non-Native Americans were not exempt for their depravity as all of humanity appears to be at their disposal. What makes McCarthy’s descriptions so unnerving is the calmness and detachment used in describing the killings. You can almost read through some of them before the horror of what is happening dawns on you. I’m reminded of Tim O’Brien’s writing about the My Lai massacre during the American war in Vietnam. In the Lake of the Woods is a novel about a politician later found to have been involved in the massacre. But the most disturbing part of the book is not the fiction, but a chapter of excerpts from the actual court-martial records. What you see is this same dispassionate account of brutal abuse and killing. As if the event itself is not horrific enough, the presenting of it as a normal occurrence makes it even worse.
McCarthy’s prose is powerful. It can edge on the dramatic, and at times tips into the over-dramatic category, but its power is clear.
"Under a gibbous moon horse and rider spanceled to their shadows on the snowblue ground and in each flare of lightning as the storm advanced those selfsame forms rearing with a terrible redundancy behind them like some third aspect of their presence hammered out black and wild upon the naked grounds. They rode on."
The phrase, “they rode on,” is the perfect balance to that long, intricate preceding sentence. Language like his can be hard to follow in our quick read society, but a slow and thoughtful read pays off. Plus, he reminds you of the beauty of words (and perhaps I just tipped into the over-dramatic category).
While “the kid” is the anti-hero of this anti-western, it is the Judge who stands out as the most memorable character. A large, hairless, white man, he is often naked and always calm. He appears to be waiting for others as they come to him, and his intellect puts him ahead of both enemies and his fellow travelers. He makes observations in his notebook in order to understand and thus control the world, and is given to long, fascinating discourses on a variety of topics. He is both God-like and devil-like, omniscient and monstrous, and terrifying in his outreach.
Toward the end of the book “the kid” faces off with judge, the culmination of a relationship in which they dance around one another throughout the book.
"The judge smiled. He spoke softly into the dim mud cubicle. You came forward, he said, to take part in a work. But you were a witness against yourself. You sat in judgement on your own deeds. You put your own allowances before the judgments of history and you broke with the body of which you were pledge a part and poisoned it in all its enterprise. Hear me, man. I spoke in the desert for you and you only and you turned a deaf ear to me. If war is not holy man is nothing but antic clay."
It is as if “the kid” recognizes his role in evil, and by the recognition (for there is no repentance) he has broken the fabric of their community. He recognizes the judge as the one behind the evil, but he cannot separate himself. As the judge says, “What joins men together is not the sharing of bread but sharing of enemies.”
Clearly, this is a disturbing novel. The fact that McCarthy bases this on historical occurrences does not allow us to write this off as some post-apocalyptic fantasy. Instead, we have to face the judge and his comments about our own culpability in human affairs.
"You can find meanness in the least of creatures, but when God made man the devil was at his elbow".
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