I’m a big fan.
Meh, the man can spin a fancy sentence with some fancy words, but I dont have much time for an author who has so little time for female characters.
This is my day for mistaken identities it seems. I thought you meant Cormac an cluiunn, Cormac mac Art, scourge of the sealanes.
I actually am a big fan of singer/songwriter Cormac McCarthy, though.
If y’all come upon the blackened skeleton of a monster truck risin’ up like the bones of a mammoth from the clotted brackland and you get so excited you shoot off your suicide bullet in celebration… y’all might just be a redneck.
If you’re just trying to be the last man alive so you can have all the WWE title belts to yourself… you might be a redneck.
If you’re still scribblin’ down ideas for tattoos even though you ate the last tattoo artist… you might be a redneck.
If you find the crozzled wreck of a car and you go huntin’ in the rubble for cinderblocks to put under it… you might be a redneck.
When you sometimes thing about how bein’ a truck driver is no different from bein’ a wizard in that they are both impossible so you figure on just calling yourself a wizard from that point forward… you might be a redneck.
If once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery. And that was why those places were dang perfect for muddin’… you might be a redneck.
I’ve never read a book by him what’s a good one to start w/?
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