I’ll admit to having a hero worship for Cormac McCarthy.
Intimidation, if I’m being honest. A decade and a half ago, I read a couple of his books and refused to read any more or to re-read the ones I had for fear of being disappointed in what was to come. I guess it goes along with the rule of never meeting your heroes.
But I finally am now reading All the Pretty Horses. And am a fool for delaying it. The problem for not reading a book when you’re young is that it prohibits you from re-readng a book at different points of your life and comparing it. Books you come to in your twenties are not the same as in your fifties. And the difference reveals to you something about yourself you would have never known otherwise.
But not reading more McCarthy when I was younger, I’ve deprived myself of that.