I return to the realm of McCarthy, this time in the thirties of the twentieth century, the border between Mexico and New Mexico, and again, after reading the last line, close the book shocked.
At the border is the second volume of the trilogy of the border and, in my opinion, is better novel All the Pretty Horses . It has more complexity in the plot and deeper in history.
I was shocked because McCarthy makes you walk their characters. See as sniffling, shaking his hat and dusty or and fanning the embers of the fire. Breathe the smell of burnt stick moistened by the dews of dawn, smell the sweat of the horses and feel in the palm of the hand-shake his hips.
McCarthy is the author of the tiny details. While highlighting the most trivial gesture, look more silent, more prosaic detail, is able to wrap in the hostile landscape of mountain and desert to share in the story to the dark sky and punctuated the night. While
tells the majestic presence of the wolf, the survival instinct become intelligence, shows the limitation of human beings in half so adverse as nature. At the same time as us characters with integrity and honesty almost innate, appear in his account of evil and hate most inexplicable. The disregard for life as something transcendent. Living the moment, without regard to anything or anyone, without the possibility if you want to respect yourself. Despair and sadness assumed as intrinsic to life itself.
The story that McCarthy tells At the border is of spectacular beauty, this must be added to the number of events that the author narrates with his usual style, detailed in the gesture, concise and poetic dialogue description landscapes.
The protagonist of the novel is a solitary character in crosses with people wandering alone and lonely. When you return home with his family, makes him understand what happened to the best of life is normal, that life is only a more or less monotonous succession of trivial and inconsequential facts. When normality is replaced by the extraordinary is just sickness, violence and decay.
At the end of loneliness.
However, regardless of what happened, the morning sun will come out the same for all without distinction.