Cormac McCarthy's 'Blood Meridian' is an examination of man's nature when the constraints of civilization are broken.Like McCarthy's other works, 'Blood Meridian' is set in 'The West.' Not Hollywood's 'Wild West' mind you, but a violent and frightening landscape of emptiness, dust and blood. You will find no show-downs between 'white hats' and 'black hats' at high noon here. America's national myth is drawn and examined and opened and destroyed to drive home the idea that 'Blood Meridian' is about us.
As everyone notes, the violence starts early in the book and it never abates. Mr. McCarthy forces the reader to look, compels us not to turn away. The horrific violence is the vehicle McCarthy uses to move the novel from a story on his pages to a narrative within the reader's mind. Once the reader follows the characters across the border between civilization and chaos we find that, like McCarthy's characters, the violence has stripped us of our humanity. We've left it behind.
As we read, Glanton and 'The Judge' become OUR king and OUR high priest. As The Kid's humanity slowly withers, we are compelled to recognize the degradable nature of our own humanity. The Kid is both the reader personally and a representation of the individual, both as part of society and opposed to society. If we are honest with ourselves we must allow Mr. McCarthy to show us that when faced with humanity's ever-present interior horrors (represented perfectly by 'The Judge') we are just as helpless as the pointedly nameless protagonist.
That is the true horror of 'Blood Meridian.' Not the blood. Not the guts. Not even the dead babies. The horror of 'Blood Meridian' is that at any time we are a one choice, one action, away from the world of 'The Judge.' The constraining forces of 'civilization' are tenuous at best. And once the thread of humanity has been broken we are all either members of Glanton's gang or its victims.
Mr. McCarthy's dense and at times difficult language paints a strikingly vivid picture. His word choice can be archaic and obscure, but no word (or sentence) in 'Blood Meridian' ever seems awkward or out of place. 'Blood Meridian' makes you work to understand what's going on, especially when McCarthy writes dialog. The 300 page book seemed much longer to me. While I occasionally found myself rereading passages the more likely reason was that Mr. McCarthy can construct two or three paragraphs that impart every detail of a hundred mile journey, all within half of a page.
'Blood Meridian' is not a pretty book. It does not fit within today's entertainment consumer's expectations. 'Blood Meridian' is Hieronymus Bosch, not Claude Monet. Don't let that dissuade you. Mr. McCarthy has created a novel sublime in its ability to frighten and disgust you. It's well worth the effort.
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