/lit/ - Literature

ITT : we write like Cormac McCarthy

>Edmond Grady Cole Dantes put his ear to the floor from wherein he heard the noise which resounded in his cell similar to a drop of water. A sicario entered, with a grey plate of beans and bread.
>You should eat, said the man.
>Without response, Edmond Grady Cole Dantes recieved the meal, sitting like a grateful beggar. The beans were hot and he pinched them between triangles of bread and took them to his mouth. The man tipped his white cowboy hat.
>Make yourself comfortable, gringo, Napoleon isn't coming back anytime soon.

>Sunset found her squatting in the grass, groaning. Every stool was looser than the one before, and smelled fouler. By the time the moon came up, she was shitting brown water. The more she drank the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew.

How does anybody take this hack seriously?

>>17152643
And why is it that you have forsaken me, Son?

So what is his best work?

There is no culture save the Semitic culture. There. The last known culture before that was the Greek and there will be no culture after. Nothing. The heart of any culture is to be found in the nature of the hero. Who is that man who is revered? In the western world it is the man of God. From Moses to Christ. The prophet. The penitent. Such a figure is unknown to the Greeks. Unheard-of. Unimaginable. Because you can only have a man of God, not a man of gods. And this God is the God of the Jewish people. There is no other god. We see the figure of him—what is the word? Purloined. Purloined in the West. How do you steal a God? He is immovable. The Jew beholds his tormentor dressed in the vestments of his own ancient culture. Everything bears a strange familiarity. But the fit is always poor and the hands are always bloody. That coat. Didn’t that belong to Uncle Chaim? What about the shoes?

Enough. I see you look. No more philosophy. The stones themselves have their own view of things. Perhaps they are not so silent as you think. They were piped up out of the earth in a time before any witness was, but they are here. Now. Who shall be their witness? We.

What does /lit/ think of Cormac McCarthy? What are his best works?

>book begins with an ominous quote from a newspaper article
Unforgettable