I read McCarthy's Blood Meridian and the Border Trilogy decades ago and didn't really appreciate them. I'm embarrassed to admit I read them because I felt I should rather than for any literary value. After rereading them recently (along with The Passenger and Stella Maris and his other novels), I now have a completely different take on McCarthy and a much greater appreciation for his genius. I was surprised by the Vanity Fair article, but it hasn't dampened my admiration for McCarthy's writing. I'm not sure why. Maybe its because regardless of reading most of novels and knowing some of his background, I don't believe I can say I knew the man. I couldn't possibly say I understood him. (I have friends I've known for 50 years and still can't say I understand everything they do or have done). The extreme violence in McCarthy's novels always made me wonder about what are the inner workings of a man who can create, IMO, such graphic depravity. But it didn't stop me from admiring his writings. This latest revelation only reminds me how complicated people can be, and do we ever really know anyone.
Very thoughtful of you as usual. I especially liked this:
"If we truly feel connected to the authors who write the words that leap from page to imagination, then we have to be able to feel disappointment and hurt as well."
From now on I am going to be more respectful of people's feelings about their favorite artists. Thanks!
Never read McCarthy, but I’ve been following the Vanity Fair article outrage, etc, and also the Alice Munro fallout regarding her husband’s abuse of her daughter. In both cases, from what I gather, it’s not merely that the authors were sh**y people, but their sh**y lives and actions were the material for their work. Separation is thus much more difficult on a moral, ethical and even intellectual level.
Just remembered this morning while reading a piece about Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, the revelations concerning Le Carre/Cornwell and how he used his affairs, or at least the locations, in his work. I confess I felt a touch used as a reader. You took me here to get your rocks off, and writing another novel was a side piece, or was it the other way around? But time heals, as they say, and betrayal and misplaced loyalty were themes writ large in the Cold War, in our towns, small German towns and the great cities. Few captured that better. Le Carre wrote about his con man father. So many of us are caught in one spin cycle or another. If we can break one piece of its pattern, bend it toward the constructive, maybe that’s the best we can do.
I'm not a big fan of non-SF novels after the mid 20th century, so I can't comment on any of these specifics, but some artists being awful in their personal lives has a long record in history.
Richard Wagner - the guy who created Der Ring des Nibelungen - was a vicious anti-Semite (although this was pretty standard in 19th-century Germany), brutal to his wife and children, and had numerous affairs.
Roman Polanski is a similarly awful person who's triggered some of these same debates about his works. Whoopi Goldberg's comments dismissing his sexual assaults against young girls as "not `rape-rape`" is an example of people defending him. Some even argue that he's a "political refugee" for escaping justice by fleeing to Europe, and should be pardoned as a sort of award for his artistic genius.
Woody Allen. 'Nuff said...
And yes, Allen and Polanski's art and their artistic reputations will likely endure long after they and their victims are dust, with their personal awfulness being a historical footnote, as it has with Wagner et al...
This causes no angst in me whatsoever because I think Cormac McCarthy is the most overrated writer since F Scott Fitzgerald. I just don’t get the adoration. Whereas Elmore Leonard and Jim Thompson are two American greats.
In the case of Elmore Leonard, at the risk of cliche I’d go with Rum Punch and Out of Sight. I did read both before the film adaptations, though I like both films. I hate to admit my favorite Jim Thompson books, lest people think I’m a psychopath, but they are The Killer Inside Me and Pop. 1280. I think The Killer Inside Me has a movie adaptation, but I’m too lazy to check and I’ve never seen it.
I read McCarthy's Blood Meridian and the Border Trilogy decades ago and didn't really appreciate them. I'm embarrassed to admit I read them because I felt I should rather than for any literary value. After rereading them recently (along with The Passenger and Stella Maris and his other novels), I now have a completely different take on McCarthy and a much greater appreciation for his genius. I was surprised by the Vanity Fair article, but it hasn't dampened my admiration for McCarthy's writing. I'm not sure why. Maybe its because regardless of reading most of novels and knowing some of his background, I don't believe I can say I knew the man. I couldn't possibly say I understood him. (I have friends I've known for 50 years and still can't say I understand everything they do or have done). The extreme violence in McCarthy's novels always made me wonder about what are the inner workings of a man who can create, IMO, such graphic depravity. But it didn't stop me from admiring his writings. This latest revelation only reminds me how complicated people can be, and do we ever really know anyone.
Very thoughtful of you as usual. I especially liked this:
"If we truly feel connected to the authors who write the words that leap from page to imagination, then we have to be able to feel disappointment and hurt as well."
From now on I am going to be more respectful of people's feelings about their favorite artists. Thanks!
Never read McCarthy, but I’ve been following the Vanity Fair article outrage, etc, and also the Alice Munro fallout regarding her husband’s abuse of her daughter. In both cases, from what I gather, it’s not merely that the authors were sh**y people, but their sh**y lives and actions were the material for their work. Separation is thus much more difficult on a moral, ethical and even intellectual level.
Just remembered this morning while reading a piece about Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, the revelations concerning Le Carre/Cornwell and how he used his affairs, or at least the locations, in his work. I confess I felt a touch used as a reader. You took me here to get your rocks off, and writing another novel was a side piece, or was it the other way around? But time heals, as they say, and betrayal and misplaced loyalty were themes writ large in the Cold War, in our towns, small German towns and the great cities. Few captured that better. Le Carre wrote about his con man father. So many of us are caught in one spin cycle or another. If we can break one piece of its pattern, bend it toward the constructive, maybe that’s the best we can do.
Great analysis and I especially liked that you didn’t want to judge someone’s personal decision to cut their once favourite artist out of their life. You might be interested in this book I co-authored on this topic: https://www.taylorfrancis.com/books/oa-mono/10.4324/9780367810153/honouring-admiring-immoral-alfred-archer-benjamin-matheson
I'm not a big fan of non-SF novels after the mid 20th century, so I can't comment on any of these specifics, but some artists being awful in their personal lives has a long record in history.
Richard Wagner - the guy who created Der Ring des Nibelungen - was a vicious anti-Semite (although this was pretty standard in 19th-century Germany), brutal to his wife and children, and had numerous affairs.
Roman Polanski is a similarly awful person who's triggered some of these same debates about his works. Whoopi Goldberg's comments dismissing his sexual assaults against young girls as "not `rape-rape`" is an example of people defending him. Some even argue that he's a "political refugee" for escaping justice by fleeing to Europe, and should be pardoned as a sort of award for his artistic genius.
Woody Allen. 'Nuff said...
And yes, Allen and Polanski's art and their artistic reputations will likely endure long after they and their victims are dust, with their personal awfulness being a historical footnote, as it has with Wagner et al...
This causes no angst in me whatsoever because I think Cormac McCarthy is the most overrated writer since F Scott Fitzgerald. I just don’t get the adoration. Whereas Elmore Leonard and Jim Thompson are two American greats.
What are your favorite works of theirs?
In the case of Elmore Leonard, at the risk of cliche I’d go with Rum Punch and Out of Sight. I did read both before the film adaptations, though I like both films. I hate to admit my favorite Jim Thompson books, lest people think I’m a psychopath, but they are The Killer Inside Me and Pop. 1280. I think The Killer Inside Me has a movie adaptation, but I’m too lazy to check and I’ve never seen it.