A very special thank you to Josh, for getting me a beautifully bound edition of this trilogy. It's truly a remarkable gift. Happy Birthday to me indeed. It even has one of those nice golden tassle bookmarks. I just love it.

ALL THE PRETTY HORSES

This is just an excellent book. It reads as if it might be an earlier work of McCarthy's, but come to find out it's from 1992 (Blood Meridian is 1986). Victoria made a valid point that McCarthy's frantic and burgeoning prose complements its protagonist, the 16 (then 17) year-old John Grady. I was so moved that I wrote Dane Alicandro a letter immediately after weeping while reading a passage of this in the Coca-Cola Northampton Factory's Men's Room. McCarthy really gets in touch with his heart here. I learned something about this luminary that I wouldn't have known had I only read Blood Meridian. The Road shows a love that resides in Cormac's heart, but it isn't this love, not the love between Grady and Alejandra. Victoria and I had an animated discussion outside of her Love Nest (the name of her house in Amherst). Passersby must've assumed we were arguing, but it was great. She probed me for my thoughts on Alejandra's leaving John Grady Cole. She lamented at her choice, wondering why Alejandra didn't go with this young cowboy. I played devil's advocate and said she didn't have a choice, that the tradition of her family and her country were bigger than this young couple. I think my point has some evidence too, when looking at the faux confessional between John Grady and the judge. John Grady explains all he's done, and the judge keeps accepting him, even though they are things John Grady regrets. They are done, and he made them because he felt he was doing what he must. So too, I think, does Alejandra. The scene with the priest who preaches on the radio is quite poignant, although seemingly out of place upon first glance. The wife says that they can even hear the priest on Mars, as the new age of technology is ushered in and the old life that the old-souled-John-Grady cannot let go of appears to be receding. I think the preacher is a sort of perversion of John Grady, whom through whose eyes we've truly glimpsed God (should he exist). God, if god is beauty and truth and solemnity and joy and sorrow, IS Alejandra, IS las yeguas. But God isn't on Mars, he is here. He is in Mexico.

THE CROSSING

Yet again, I wept at work while reading this trilogy. I covered my face at a Coca-Cola plant, shaking with rage and woe, emotions I didn't know I had but McCarthy had been building unbeknownst to myself the entire time. McCarthy's confidence that he'll arouse his intended reader response is unmatchable. What is it about placing a single solitary pole in a pit for a mother wolf carrying her pups to retreat to that causes the reader (me at least) to lurch in sickened despair for her? I cried again breathlessly relaying this scene to Victoria (and AGAIN to Dad, Barbara, and Caleb over pizza at a Manchester pizza joint), who nodded knowingly and empathetically. Tears came out as I tried to paraphrase the beauty and horror of a wolf and boy knowing no one else in this godforsaken land and relying on each other but simultaneously completely unable to know one another, as we as men cannot fully know wild beasts nor they us. I jotted down at work that "McCarthy's prose is isolating. It needs to be heard, but it is loathe to be relayed and paraphrased". You MUST read this to understand why this book can do this to the reader. The layering of emotional attachment by McCarthy simply through his diction and syntax is so gradual and subtle. I think McCarthy, wittingly or unwittingly, describes this best on page 413 when he says "there is writ a message that can never be spoken because time would always slay the messenger before he could even arrive". The ending was absolutely perfect in a book so cyclical, and is blatantly an ode (or at least to me, having read them both in one summer and knowing McCarthy's affinity for Melville) to Moby Dick. Except McCarthy lights a votive candle for the Land, rather than the Sea. Second only to "Blood Meridian" for McCarthy's work. I will forever carry Billy Parham y el lobo en mi corazon! And, as a sidenote, what a wonderful way to brush up on my high school Spanish! And to connect with the employees at Coca-Cola, when I don't have a Spanish-English dictionary close at hand. Thanks Javier and Robert Camacho!

CITIES OF THE PLAIN

John Grady meets an older Billy Parham. McCarthy ties it altogether here, but this was my least favorite of the three. Still, it made me cry. To reference another conversation of Victoria and mine, when JGC dies in Billy's arms and Billy stoically just sort of says Goddammit, it reflects the journey the reader has made with Billy, where tragedy is no less tragic but we are better prepared for it perhaps. When Billy is forced as a 78 year old man to the side of the highway and McCarthy describes a highway overpass, I think we see a glimmer of The Road, the beauty that is no less evaporated in today's environment just because it's less apparent than in the lands of JGC and Billy's youths. Billy refers to both Boyd and JGC simply as "the best" at different points. The ending is lovely, describing Billy's aged hands as a sort of microcosm for the journey of his life. I've had the same thoughts looking at McCarthy's author picture and those grizzled veiny forearms. Victoria has often asked me if I get sad when I finish a book, and I've replied that no, I feel a sense of accomplishment. I can, after all, go update my GoodReads. When I finished this book, on the last day of summer vacation, I lay with this beautifully bound edition of the most beautiful book(s) I've ever read, and my heart welled. This book solidified my belief in the existence of a soul. I am a different man having read these books, and I don't believe that newly acquired knowledge alone can explain this transition. I'll never look at death, at my loved ones, at the world, the same. Thanks Josh, thank you Mr. McCarthy.

Reading this trilogy has been an endurance test. There's little joy, many hardships, and countless characters with strong jaws, cold hearts, and few means. Each book shares a core element, which I can identify but struggle to define. The main theme is desolation and the need to complete one's journey, regardless of obstacles and those who try to stop you. God is present but offers little sympathy or relief. Prayers are lifted, myths are passed around, but there's no manifestation of a higher power. The land of Mexico is both revered and feared, as if crossing the border immerses you in a timeless history of lawlessness and chaos.

In these books, we encounter the theme of forces greater than us, unstoppable and unyielding. This theme also appears in No Country For Old Men and seems to resonate with those who age with a sense of observation. In the epilogue of the third book, we explore the scale and scope of all things and find little hope of redemption. Our actions are ultimately forfeit to a larger fate, and the ways we try to overcome are often muted by the eventualities we must face.

All the Pretty Horses is a book I've read twice, along with McCarthy's The Road and Tolkien's works. In many ways, it reminds me of Kerouac's On the Road, with a sense of coming-of-age and being ill-prepared for the world. However, McCarthy's style is darker, and the boys in this book are turned against and into a darkness they can't escape. They witness a desolate frontier and learn that their destiny's undertow is stronger than their will. This book sets the tone for McCarthy's west and his romantic, mystic, and violent vision of Mexico.

The youths in this book face more than I could imagine at their age, and the violence they witness and engage in changes them. There's a romance in the book that sets the tone for one of the main characters and explores the depth of McCarthy's vision of romance. Despite the darkness, there's still a beating heart within, a grip on a lifeline that can be followed in the blackest of night. Of the three books, I would recommend this one the highest. It's a good introduction to McCarthy's style and has a story that holds up well on its own.

The Crossing follows Billy Parham and feels like McCarthy's attempt to reconnect with the epic of The Journey From Home. However, failure is a common theme here, and we learn more about biting off more than we can chew. The first big conquest, trapping a wolf and setting it free in Mexico, is one of the most emotionally connected conflicts in the trilogy. It shows how raw and hostile these places are and how silent the world can be in response to our prayers. The book also details what happens after Billy's family is murdered and he tries to reclaim the horses they lost. We learn more about his experience in the world and how he has hardened. Boyd, his younger brother, is quiet but shows fortitude in protecting a new companion. Billy's crossing ends alone, another theme that pervades the trilogy.

This book is not necessarily one I would recommend unless you're invested in the trilogy or interested in McCarthy's style. It stands alone as a story about Mexico and its bordering states, but it feels a little less populated by villainy and almost twice as bleak. The book is longer than the others and some of the conversations feel more like soliloquys than natural expositions.

Cities of the Plain combines the characters of Billy Parham and John Grady and their pasts. There's no storyline that trails across the three novels, only the march of time and the changing landscape. We're reintroduced to Grady's talent with horses and his naive and romantic energy. One of the main plot points is his love for a prostitute and his willingness to give up everything to marry her. Parham plays a lesser role but still provides commentary and keeps Grady honest. The book feels a little less focused on Mexico and more on the personalities and peoples outside of it. The plot is more brief and direct, and the characters seem more weathered and old-timers. I think this is the only book that requires a reading of the other two and the one that feels the most unnecessary. However, it's great to see the story of these two characters conclude, and the writing is still exemplary of McCarthy's mastery of the language.

**All the Pretty Horses**

My initial impression was that this book didn't have the same immediate impact as The Road. There were notable pros and cons, leading to a "good" rather than "great" rating.

The captivating world McCarthy creates leaves a lasting impression. It's a world of men, horses, injustice, and self-made justice. It's a world of youth cut short, free wandering, and adventure. The dialogue is authentic but can be a bit of an impediment with some untranslated Spanish.

The authenticity of the setting, action, and description sometimes makes it difficult to visualize. The writer's style, with its reliance on run-on sentences, can also be tiresome. However, I understand the author's choice as it harks back to the language of the protagonists.

The somewhat abrupt punctuation in the latter half of the novel was another challenge. The first part is a pleasant account of a journey, but it lasts too long. Overall, though, I do recommend All the Pretty Horses for its unique and vivid world.

**The Crossing**

A lot has changed since I reviewed All the Pretty Horses. The Crossing felt like a different book. There were still some limitations, but it also had a new form. It almost seemed like a work of magical realism, with scenes and characters flowing in and out of the story in a surreal way.

The Crossing built on the world of All the Pretty Horses and probed the depths of the reader's consciousness. It made me feel a sort of abstraction from reality. I'm not sure exactly what the truth is that the book is trying to impart, but it seems to be about the complexity and grand design of our existence.

The novel's end was very powerful, with the idea that everything is just a small part of a larger story. The eternal question of whether the author agrees with what his characters say remains unanswered.

**Cities of the Plain**

The Border Trilogy grew on me in a way I never expected. It was one of those books that will stay with me for years. After reading all three novels, I understand why it's a trilogy and how the ideas complement each other.

Stylistically, Cities of the Plain is similar to the first two novels, but what seemed like shortcomings before now feel familiar and dear. The language and characters have an honesty and authenticity that I've grown to love.

In substance, Cities of the Plain is a fitting end to McCarthy's exploration. It confirms my ideas about the theme of fate and highlights the changing world and the loss of a simpler life. The epilogue is a remarkably insightful end, making me think about the power of our own stories.

Overall, I highly recommend the Border Trilogy for its beautiful writing, deep themes, and unique portrayal of the American South.

McCarthy's epic is truly a colossal work to behold.

As the reader embarks on a journey through the landscapes of the Southwestern United States and Northwestern Mexico, they are greeted with a funeral. This slow-paced trilogy gradually unfolds a series of events that are worthy of a drama, with an ensemble of characters who are both flawed and human. Some are more morally upright than others, but all are products of their world and time.

McCarthy presents his characters with a physical description that is lacking in detail compared to the environments he describes. However, it is no less poetic, and even in its brevity, one can envision how the characters might look. His practice of describing movement in minute detail allows the reader to follow the capture of a wolf or visualize the bloody killing of a character. This gruesome detailing may put off some readers, similar to the gratuitous gore in Quinton Tarantino's films, but it has not been my experience. For me, McCarthy's violence, with its anatomical details, seems almost scientifically detached from the emotional force of the violence, presenting it as a portrayal of the blind state in which some murders may occur. Even so, the depth of the violence still allows the reader to feel a sense of disgust or awe at what is happening.

Scenes of violence and meandering across the desert are interrupted by lengthy monologues from the characters, giving the reader the opportunity to pause and consider some philosophical and theological questions. McCarthy touches on God, mortality, the changing of the American West in the twentieth century, and, of course, love. Not just romantic love, but the love that young people possess, through which they see the beauty of life and believe that their time and place in the world are unique compared to all those who came before. McCarthy does more than simply state these points; he presents them as arguments, either his own or those of his characters. Arguably, no right answers are presented, but the points are made for the reader to at least consider.

McCarthy's attention to detail when describing a scene is extremely powerful and enables the reader to be mentally present in those spaces. They can see the desert, the bushes, and the sky. In fact, while I did not do so, one might be helped if they pulled up a map that includes the various towns and mesas described and traced the path of the different characters as they progress.

A note on narrative perspective: McCarthy uses the third-person omniscient point of view, which one would expect to allow the reader to see and know everything that is happening. However, I think McCarthy's writing style, such as dropping the reader into the middle of a scene or simply omitting certain details, allows the reader to experience a sense of confusion or mystery while reading his trilogy, rather than feeling as if their hand is being held. Of course, the usefulness of such a style depends on the subjective opinions of the reader.

Personally, I choose "The Crossing" as my favorite book from "The Border Trilogy." I do so because of the highlighting of McCarthy's unique prose, the monologue by one of the characters regarding "the cities of the plain," and the fraternal love and drama of the main characters.

That being said, all three books are a great read, and each contributes to the rich artistic power of the complete trilogy. I can't wait to read them all again!

He is simply great.

This language is so concise and precise that no other author can keep up.

I often get lost in thoughts and lose the story. It's truly remarkable how his writing has the power to draw me in and make me completely immersed.

The way he crafts his sentences and chooses his words is like an art form.

Each phrase seems to be carefully thought out and placed to create the perfect effect.

I find myself constantly amazed by his talent and ability to convey complex ideas with such simplicity.

It's no wonder that he is considered one of the greatest authors of our time.

His work will continue to inspire and captivate readers for generations to come.

I first read All The Pretty Horses while camping on the beach in Sonora, Mexico. At that time, I had never read McCarthy before, and it truly blew me away. The rhythm of the prose was like the gait of a horse on an open range, so smooth and captivating. The lyrical descriptions of the Southwestern landscape were dead-on, painting a vivid picture in my mind. The well-crafted (and often humorous) dialogue, with a careful ear for cadence and dialect, added to the charm of the book.

However, upon subsequent readings and further exploring the Trilogy, my feelings changed. In The Crossing, the prose became more over-blown, sometimes to a degree of absurdity. It seemed that McCarthy was trying too hard to create a certain effect, which detracted from the overall quality of the story.

But mostly, I was just disappointed by the conclusion of Cities of the Plain - or rather my expectations. I'll admit I wanted a Hollywood ending, something that would tie up all the loose ends and leave me feeling satisfied. But as any reader of McCarthy understands, that is an exercise in futility. His books are not about happy endings or neatly wrapped-up stories. They are about the harsh realities of life, the struggles and tragedies that we all face. And while I respect that, it doesn't mean I can't be a little disappointed when the story doesn't end the way I want it to.

My video review: https://youtu.be/WgOs9X7ciOY

In this video review, I will be sharing my thoughts and opinions on a particular topic.

The video I am reviewing is available at the provided link. It offers a unique perspective and valuable insights.

I will analyze the content, production quality, and overall impact of the video.

By the end of this review, you will have a better understanding of what the video has to offer and whether it is worth your time to watch.

So, let's dive in and explore this video together!

The clothes that this man writes are son of a bitch literature.

However, in a good sense. This statement might seem rather bold and perhaps a bit shocking at first glance. But upon closer examination, it implies that the work produced by this man has a certain edge, a rawness that sets it apart. It's not your typical, run-of-the-mill literature. It has a power and a vitality that can be compared to something that is both wild and unapologetic, like a "son of a bitch." But the qualifier "in a good sense" gives it a different spin. It suggests that this roughness and boldness are actually qualities that make the literature interesting, engaging, and perhaps even profound. It challenges the norms and expectations of what literature should be, and in doing so, it offers a fresh perspective and a new way of looking at the world.

Reviews:

- All The Pretty Horses is a captivating novel that takes readers on a journey through the American Southwest. The story follows the adventures of John Grady Cole, a young man with a passion for horses and a longing for a simpler life. Cormac McCarthy's writing is both beautiful and powerful, painting a vivid picture of the harsh and unforgiving landscape.

- The Crossing is the second book in McCarthy's Border Trilogy. It continues the story of John Grady Cole as he crosses the border into Mexico in search of a lost horse. Along the way, he encounters a variety of characters, both good and bad, and must face the consequences of his actions. The novel explores themes of love, loss, and redemption, and is a must-read for fans of McCarthy's work.

- Cities of the Plain is the final book in the Border Trilogy. It brings the story of John Grady Cole to a close, as he returns to Texas and tries to come to terms with his past. The novel is a meditation on the nature of time, memory, and mortality, and is a fitting end to McCarthy's epic trilogy.

Belli, without a doubt, presents three novels written with great narrative skill.

In these works, every gesture, every gaze, and every intention is described in detail (almost obsessively). Even when nothing extraordinary is happening, the reading still captivates you.

However, reading them one after another without a break can cause a bit of weariness, a sense of "too much." There are too many horses, too many saddles, too many spits, and too many "sons of bitches."

Despite this, Belli's novels offer a unique and immersive experience. The detailed descriptions bring the characters and settings to life, allowing the reader to fully engage with the story.

Each novel has its own charm and complexity, exploring themes such as love, betrayal, and power.

Overall, Belli's works are a testament to his talent as a writer and his ability to create vivid and engaging fictional worlds.

All the Pretty Horses:

John Grady, aware that his mother is selling the family ranch, departs from Texas. Accompanied by his friend Rawlins, they set off for Mexico, where trouble and passion blend with the landscape of rock, dirt, and horseflesh. I firmly believe there is no writer more apt for westerns than McCarthy. His dialogue is concise and unadorned, yet filled with amusement and even tenderness. His descriptions offer a vivid and moving panorama, his narration is practical and immersive, and the action is swift, brutal, and life-or-death, captivating the reader. All the Pretty Horses is like a spur prick on the reader's flank, propelling us into a vast vista of open possibilities and distant disasters. It is a tale that is beautiful, breathtaking, and desolate. Without hesitation, I turned to The Crossing, the next installment in the trilogy, as I am not only immersed in but also in love with McCarthy's border states/Mexican tales.

The Crossing

The remarkable opening of this story plunges me into the life of Billy Parham, following him to Mexico as he is compelled by the wolf he has roped. There is a touch of disbelieving humor in these passages, but it soon gives way to loss and sadness. Worse news awaits him upon his return, and it seems that every move Billy or his brother Boyd makes is driven by resolute conviction and dogged by the unforgiving harshness of the land. Two flaws slightly mar this story compared to All the Pretty Horses: too much diversion into other people's stories and an overabundance of dialogue written entirely in Spanish. In All the Pretty Horses, this added great atmosphere while maintaining the sense of the discussion (one aspect that impressed me as evidence of McCarthy's skill in writing about the differences on either side of the border), but it is overdone in The Crossing, to the extent that I often found myself puzzled at the end of an exchange. Nevertheless, Billy Parham's tale is destructive, fascinating, sad, and beautifully written.

Cities of the Plain

The protagonists from the previous stories are reunited in this final book of the Border Trilogy, working together on a ranch. Their friendship brings all the fine qualities of the first two tales to this story, while also serving as an immediate warning sign to the reader that these stubborn individuals are once again present; how long before one or both of them ride headlong into trouble? Sure enough, John Grady is in love once more, and Billy Parham's inability to let go is pulling him along.

Undoubtedly, all three of these tales can appear devoid of hope until viewed as a whole after reading, especially the end of the epilogue, which leaves us with a sad, quiet peace. Instead, McCarthy substitutes the strange kinship of those in trouble, friendship, stubbornness, the unspoken and intuited code of cowboys who can't or won't quit, and their love for two countries during troubled times.

Despite the sadness each of these books left me with, I cannot overemphasize their beauty. John Grady and Billy Parham are two of the most frustrating yet sympathetic protagonists I have encountered as a reader. McCarthy's trilogy was my first reading of 2010, and the rest of the year may seem frivolous in comparison... What a powerful writer.