How Cormac McCarthy’s Art Helped Me

Yesterday, I was surrounded by a pile of tissues with just awful allergies. I had a podcast on as I was trying to doze off. I jumped up when one of the hosts shared that Cormac McCarthy passed away.

I don’t know McCarthy personally. Never met him and I never researched much about him. I haven’t read all of his work. I’ve read quite a bit, but not enough to be an expert. Yet, he is one of the most significant artists in my life.

Some people know, but I grew up attending special education school from kindergarten until high school graduation. I had dyslexia and speech issues that made learning, but particularly reading, difficult. There are memories of being mocked and feeling humiliated by other kids and adults that are still with me today. Arguments with parents and teachers were frequent because I couldn’t understand why they kept making me read and do speech therapy — it was hard to understand at that age how much they were just trying to help in contrast to the belittling others made me feel.

I made improvements over the years. I wasn’t expected to get past an 8th grade reading level, but sure enough I did. Still, I lagged behind other kids my age. But teachers and my parents were recommending some books that broke through.

One was “No Country For Old Men.” I read that novel before going off to college. I remember how exciting the story was and it made me look forward to putting in the work to read more. It is one of the first books I remember having fun finishing.

It was McCarthy’s book that made me say, “Okay, I want to read more. I really want to get better at this.”

I did read a lot and I came across so many wonderful writers. But college came to an end and I didn’t have English class assignments anymore. There were no syllabuses or deadlines to pressure me to open more books. I was a good reader, but reading was still hard for me to do and after working jobs and internships, I often didn’t have the mental stamina to start another novel.

Then I read “All the Pretty Horses” and it blew me away. I compare my feelings to a cliché love song that uses every romantic trope. That story just got a hold of me in every way and there are no unique descriptions I can offer up. There’s not much more to say about my relationship with that book other than that it stuck with me in a wonderful way.

I was now an adult who spent a childhood with so many struggles when it came to literacy. Part of me wanted to just put literature to the side and just use what I learned to get by day to day. “All the Pretty Horses” though, that book turned a switch. At that point, I knew literature was always going to be a part of my life.

Years later, I became a voracious reader. I’ve read more of McCarthy’s works and still cite “All the Pretty Horses” as one of my favorite novels. But when asked if he is one of my favorite writers, I sort of just shrug.

I did not enjoy “Child of God” or “Outer Dark.” I don’t think I ever finished “The Orchard Keeper.” The stories and characters were too disturbing for me to be engulfed by the plot.

But I admire how McCarthy took the setting of the Western Frontier in “Blood Meridian” and instead of showing heroes and explorers, he portrayed settler colonialism as an ugly contagion of violence and cruelty. In “The Road,” he took another approach to a popular genre. Instead of fixating on how masculinity can be used to protect loved ones in a post-apocalyptic world, he focused on the simmering vulnerability and humiliation always present with the protagonist’s fear.

These books were enjoyable. But they don’t usually come top of mind when I make recommendations to people. I’ve reread “All the Pretty Horses,” and love it each time. But I don’t foresee myself reading these two again. There are more of his books for me to read and I know I will get to them eventually. But I’m not in a rush.

Do I think McCarthy was a good artist? Of course! He was a fantastic artist.

We think of great artists as people who achieve stacks of accolades. And McCarthy did have that, with his Pulitzer, his Nobel, and all those best sellers. For me, that’s not what made him amazing. I consider him great for a selfish reason — his art moved me. His stories elevated the joy in my life in a way I would not have imagined when I was younger. That is the power of any art, no matter how successful the artist is. Fame is not a prerequisite for anyone’s art to inspire others.

A couple years ago I reread “No Country for Old Men.” This was over 10 years after I read it for the first time. And, to be honest, I wasn’t crazy about the book this go around. Whether I like the book now is irrelevant. Art can inspire others at different points in their lives. It can be random and hard to explain, but it is still beautiful.

Again, I never met McCarthy and I don’t know much about him. I know he had family and friends who are now grieving the loss of someone important to them. I wish them nothing but comfort and condolences. I just wanted to use this space to express how grateful I am for the art he shared.