Well, I've finally completed it.

I first read All the Pretty Horses more than a decade ago. Back then, I was a wide-eyed and baby-faced college freshman, naively believing that I was going to be the next Raymond Carver. However, I soon realized that I didn't have enough empathy for most people to write about them convincingly. As a teenager, I firmly believed in the supreme value of sincerity and authenticity in art.

So, I re-read All the Pretty Horses and still loved it. Then I moved on to The Crossing. Although it didn't have the profound impact on me that I had hoped for, the scene with the fallen airplane at the end was truly breathtaking. (Sidenote: My Spanish is so rusty that I probably should have had a dictionary handy for most of the book.) Finally, I read Cities of the Plain, where McCarthy's protagonists are thrust headlong into the modern world. It becomes a Southwestern version of Taxi Driver, with a sad-eyed prostitute, a nasty pimp, and a man who struggles to come to terms with the world we live in.

The entire experience was quite overwhelming, and I'm not sure how I feel about reading all three books as a single volume instead of spacing them out as I usually do. But, it's McCarthy, and you can't really go wrong with his work.

L'amore fino alla morte


This is a truly beautiful trilogy. It explores love in all its forms. In the first book, it delves into the love of friendship. The bonds of friendship are portrayed with such authenticity and warmth.

In the second book, the focus shifts to fraternal love. The relationship between siblings is shown to be complex and yet deeply affectionate.

Finally, in the third book, we encounter the love for a woman. This is a passionate and intense love that drives the characters to great lengths.

However, this trilogy is not just about love. It also shows the harshness of life. There are many difficult and challenging situations that the characters have to face.

It is a very sad, tough, and dramatic work that takes place in a nature filled with beautiful landscapes. The descriptions of the wild and unspoiled nature are so vivid that they make us dream of a life of freedom and unrestricted movement.

Overall, "L'amore fino alla morte" is a remarkable trilogy that will touch your heart and make you think about the true meaning of love and life.

1037 Pages, phew.

I found the laconic characters' ability to find a wide selection of plains philosophers, who like to talk at great length, quite remarkable.

I enjoyed some parts of it, but I also found the writing style quite peculiar.

Particularly, the idiosyncratic punctuation really stood out.

There were other oddities as well.

For example, the author named the character several lines into the scene.

At the beginning, the author mostly referred to the character as 'him', whether it was Billy or John Grady.

This meant that on many occasions, the reader had to work it out for themselves.

Overall, it was an interesting read, but the unique writing style and oddities made it a bit of a challenge at times.

However, I still managed to appreciate the story and the characters within it.

It was a different kind of literary experience that made me think and engage with the text in a new way.

I'm glad I took the time to read it, despite its length and the challenges it presented.

Maybe with a second read, I'll be able to understand and appreciate it even more.

Every man's death is a profound and significant event. It is as if each death is a substitute for every other.

Since death is an inevitable part of life that comes to all, there seems to be no easy way to reduce the fear that it instills within us. However, one possible way to find some solace is to love that man who symbolizes and stands in for us.

We are not passively waiting for his history to be written. In fact, he passed through this world long ago. That remarkable man, who represents all of humanity, has stood in the dock on our behalf. He has endured until our own time arrives, and then it will be our turn to stand for him.

So, the question arises: Do you love him, that man who embodies the essence of all of us? Will you show honor and respect for the path he has taken? Will you take the time to listen to his story and learn from it? These are important questions that make us reflect on our own connection to the greater human experience.

After the recent passing of Cormac McCarthy, I was determined to read 'The Road', the novel for which he won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2007. However, thanks to my wife, it was first the hefty Border Trilogy, a collection of three novels that McCarthy wrote from 1992 to 1998, that landed on my reading table. A thousand pages long. A challenge, but what a joy to read!

Cormac McCarthy shows himself in these three bundled novels as a master storyteller who in an unparalleled way sketches a world that no longer exists and that perhaps we can only assume in our dreams that it ever really existed. Everything takes place in the 1930s and 1940s in the unparalleled landscape of the border between Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona on the one hand and Mexico on the other. John Grady Cole (in 'All the Pretty Horses') and Billy Parham (in 'The Border') and both together in the last novel ('Cities of the Plain') are two young cowboys who both, each driven by their own motives, cross the border into Mexico to land in a world that has both new horizons and gruesome challenges to offer.

McCarthy gets deep into the skin of his main characters. Their search, their desires, their loves, their doubts, their disappointments become those of the reader as well. And not only can you empathize with them but also with the animals, horses and wolves, with which they deal, you get an almost physical bond. You just have to be able to put something like that into words. And then I almost forget here his sensual description of that beautiful nature in which all this takes place.

McCarthy sometimes peppers this, especially in the second book and at the end of the third book, with philosophically profound stories of random passers-by who as a reader take you out of your comfort zone for a moment and that you may have to read a few times to really let them penetrate you.

But be careful, don't be mistaken, of this universe that is sketched, gruesome cruelty is also part. After all, this is also part of the human image that McCarthy sketches for us.

It took me a while to get through this trilogy, as I took a break between the second and third book. However, I'm extremely glad that I finally completed it.

All the Pretty Horses was, without a doubt, the strongest and most consistent one, in my view. McCarthy introduces his epic hero, John Grady Cole, and it's nearly impossible not to fall in love with him from the very beginning.

The Crossing, which presents the trilogy's second protagonist, was my least favorite among the three. The narrative frequently wandered into philosophical discussions for several pages at a stretch, making it challenging to remain engaged with the story.

Cities of the Plains brings both protagonists together and provides a fitting conclusion to their intertwined tales, except for a highly unsatisfying epilogue that makes an unbelievable 50-year leap and descends into another dreamlike philosophical tangent.

So, why five stars? The language, oh my goodness, the language of these books is simply beautiful. There are passages and descriptions that I have reread numerous times, thinking that I would never have made such observations or thought to use such analogies, yet they convey the scene with such perfection. For instance: "Narrow spires of smoke standing vertically into the windless dawn so still the village seemed to hang by threads from the darkness."

Moreover, McCarthy writes some of the best dialogue I've ever come across. When I read the exchanges between characters, I can vividly hear their voices come to life. Growing up in West Texas, I can attest that he truly captures the way people talk.

Despite the fact that these stories can be bleak at times, he has a subtle yet wicked sense of humor. I often find myself laughing out loud while reading.

He is an incredible writer.

Cormac McCarthy and Richard Ford are like two distinct yet interconnected entities in the literary world.

McCarthy, with his penchant for描绘 the South, crafts prose that is both poetic and gritty. His works are a vivid portrayal of the blue collar life in the southern regions, filled with rich descriptions and profound insights.

Ford, on the other hand, focuses on the North. His writing also has a poetic quality, but it is shaped by the different landscapes and cultures of the northern areas.

It's almost as if they had an unspoken agreement, dividing the country into their respective literary territories. Their voices are rich and authentic, and their attention to detail is remarkable.

Despite the similarities in their writing styles, the geographical implications give their works a unique flavor. Both have achieved great success, having won the Pulitzer Prize. And it would be only fitting if one day they were to share the Nobel Prize as well, a final accolade to cap off their illustrious careers.

Wow...

It took me as long as two months to get through these three books.

I can definitely say that perhaps I should have read just one at a time,

really chewed on it and digested it for a good while before starting the next one.

I truly enjoyed the stories and the unique writing style.

However, it seemed that I wasn't able to fully and completely grasp every single message that Cormac was trying to convey to the reader.

Nevertheless, I will admit that while reading, he was able to evoke strong emotions within me,

and for me, that is the mark of a successful story.

It makes me want to go back and re-read them again,

hoping to gain a deeper understanding of the profound ideas and themes that he has presented.

Maybe with a second or third reading, I will be able to unlock the full potential of these wonderful works.

Overall, it has been a great reading experience,

albeit a challenging one at times.

But that's what makes good literature so rewarding.

Rating represents The Border Trilogy as a whole, and is mostly brought down by Cities of the Plains, an imperfect synthesis of the thematic material before it. I should get some kind of AP Spanish credit for being able to understand like half of the untranslated Spanish in these books.

All the Pretty Horses is a subversive vaquero romance. It introduces us to John Grady Cole and his buddy Rawlins. Their naïve approach to life south of the border leads them into trouble. Especially when John Grady starts a flirtation with the daughter of the ranch owner where they work. McCarthy portrays the romance between the two as tender. But he never forgets that these are two children in a world that is completely hostile to such innocence. The romance, and the actions of a dumbass kid cowboy looking for a stolen horse, put them in peril and nearly ruin them. The book is written in a more tender style than McCarthy's previous work, Blood Meridian. But the sweeping language never touches the romance. It can't. McCarthy's strange style, a combination of Melville and Hemingway (and a touch of Faulkner, though he's never as opaque), depicts the world as it is. Not as we wish it to be.

The Crossing is the true masterpiece of the trilogy. It deserves to stand beside Blood Meridian and The Road as McCarthy's finest work. It describes three separate border crossings by Billy Parham, another young cowboy. If All the Pretty Horse was a deconstruction of the cowboy romance, then The Crossing returns to the more general subversion of the Western seen in Blood Meridian, though it never reaches those levels of brutality. Billy's journey is almost picaresque in structure. Each of his trips south has him meeting strangers who either help or harm him. Some of them tell him Dostoevsky-esque stories with rich thematic depth. McCarthy's language is at its most esoteric here, and the ending is haunting.

Cities of the Plains seems almost注定 to be a lesser work. It brings together John Grady Cole and Billy Parham years later as ranch hands. Each refers to their past travels to Mexico at some point. But the text doesn't dwell on these references, nor is this treated as a grand team-up. Instead, we see John Grady Cole in a different light. He believes in romance but without the narrative to support his desire. He wants to marry a sixteen-year-old sex worker from a Mexican brothel. He claims love, but there is the lingering memory of his unrequited romance and a certain sense of heroism behind his actions. Billy tries to dissuade his younger colleague, but John Grady can't be dissuaded. It culminates in one of the most harrowing fight scenes I've read in fiction. The book ends with an epilogue that's probably better than much of what came before it. Cities of the Plains lacks the elegance of the previous two works, perhaps due to its origin as a screenplay. The style is closer to the sparser style seen in No Country For Old Men, and a certain thematic resonance is lost in the plot-driven narrative.

If it weren't for Cities of the Plains, I don't think these books would be regarded as anything more than a continuation of McCarthy's focus on the Western. Synthesizing the two books by uniting their protagonists makes us consider the works as a whole. But I don't think this is strictly necessary or even beneficial. These books mourn the West while also acknowledging the fictional nature of its romance. It was what it was and now it is gone.

I'm not sure, but I really think McCarthy isn't for me.

Three years ago, I read "The Road", the highly acclaimed masterpiece, and I found it dull, banal, and extremely boring. For a while, I set the author aside, simply believing that he didn't resonate with me. However, he remained one of the great pillars of American literature, which I deeply love. So, I decided to give him a second chance, delving into the genre that probably distinguishes McCarthy more than any other. Also, because I tend to find greater completeness in more substantial novels, capable of transmitting more complete meanings. Therefore, I decided to lean towards the three novels of the Border Trilogy.

Well... nothing. The spark didn't ignite. I find McCarthy's prose lacking in many aspects, flat and dull, and overly lyrical at moments when there seems to be no need for it. The characters are paper-thin, and they repeatedly claim to love untouched nature, when in reality, this is hardly perceptible from the writing. What remains is a terrible geographical confusion, an indefiniteness, a sense of incompleteness in the plot and the identity of the characters, with laughable ages and non-existent personalities. And the traditional series of wild adventures characteristic of the genre is completely absent. (And when it is present, it is, of course, extremely stereotypical and banal.) The only moments that I truly appreciated were the stories and legends told by the various peasants and landowners that John Grady Cole and Billy encounter on their journey.

Ah, another thing: who thought that leaving the parts in Spanish untranslated was a good idea???? It constantly disrupts the flow of the novel, forcing an unnecessary decoding, when a simple footnote would have been sufficient.

I have just completed reading All the Pretty Horses and am now halfway through The Crossing.

All the Pretty Horses is an exciting western story that follows two teenage boys as they travel on horseback in Old Mexico, working for a wealthy rancher, experiencing first love, and grappling with political power and corruption. If you're not bilingual, be ready to translate Spanish to English as McCarthy won't do it for you.

My father was a Colorado rancher, horseman, and trainer in the western style. Growing up riding, the early western cowboy ethos has always held an allure for me. In my experience, a rider and horse can form a bond, and many trainers are highly skilled. However, I don't believe in the mystical and soulful relationship that McCarthy attributes between horses and his character John Grady. This relationship between horse and equestrian sounds otherworldly to me, and I'm sure it would to my father, who was an expert judge of horse flesh. In my experience, the "horse whisperer" is largely a fiction.

The West Texas language, the descriptions of the landscape, and the sprinkling of philosophical gems make the writing very appealing and difficult to put down. The first book of the trilogy is much more than just the relationship between horse and rider. It delves into themes of love, loss, and the search for meaning in a harsh and unforgiving world.

He knew that our enemies, by contrast, seem always to be with us. The greater our hatred, the more persistent the memory of them becomes. As a result, a truly terrible enemy can seem deathless. The man who has done us great injury or injustice makes himself a guest in our house forever. Perhaps only forgiveness can dislodge him.

When we look at the world, is there a specific point in time when what we see becomes what we remember? How are they separate? This is something that we have no way to show. It is absent from our map and from the picture that it creates. And yet, it is all we have.

He also said that while it is true that time heals bereavement, it does so only at the cost of the slow extinction of those loved ones from the heart's memory, which is the sole place of their abode, both then and now. Faces fade, voices dim. The sepulturero whispered, "Seize them back. Speak with them. Call their names. Do this and do not let sorrow die, for it is the sweetening of every gift." We should cherish those memories and not let them fade away easily.