Before I'd reached page 100, I had realized it was basically a travelogue. He's driving around Ireland drinking in pubs, visiting stone circles, being accosted by killer cows (ok, not a killer), waxing philosophical and spiritual at times, and sleeping in B&Bs of all sorts. And telling stories about the many, varied people he meets in all these places. I don't really read travelogues too often, but that's fine. I mean, the guy's funny, so why not?
See, this is where I had a problem. McCarthy is funny. I would laugh out loud at times, which can be a little strange when you're sitting among weary commuters heading to or from New York. By page 150 or so, I'd decided that I would finish reading the book even though I was having a hard time justifying it to my inner book-reading snob.
Along the way, I discovered that the book has more going for it than just a travelogue. It really is about learning about your identity. McCarthy's asking, "Where do I belong?" He was born in England, though his family is Irish and he still has cousins and uncles living in Ireland. His accent is English, so there's no BSing about it to the Irish. (He's not visiting the U.S., after all.) And those he meets on his travels include people from Germany, Belgium, Russia... I think there may even have been an Uzbek in there somewhere. And they're becoming Irish — at least their kids are.
So can an English-born guy with Irish roots claim to be Irish? I'll let you read for yourself.
So carry the book with you for a few weeks. I wouldn't recommend you read it all in one sitting, unless you've got a lot of beer and hearty food with you. No, take it with you to a pub, read a few pages over a pint. Mark your place when someone sits down near you and chats (it may help to stop in an Irishy pub; they're everywhere now, which also is a point McCarthy makes), and enjoy the craic.
You may not remember every single person you meet on these pages, but you don't have to. This is one of those books where the journey is far more important than the destination. But when you've reached the last page, you'll realize you've found a nice place for resurrection.
4 comments:
I know the books you mean. I reached a certain point where I decided that there were so many books on my to-read list that I couldn't afford to toil with the ones that seemed to offer questionable blessings. But then I was always tortured with the "what if I read on and it became life-changing?" question.
Yes, that question crosses my mind as well. In some cases, I have better memories of the books I chose to stop reading, but that's because those characters are forever left dangling, never to find any resolution in my mind.
Travel writing has changed a lot over the years. McCarthy's introspective writing reflects the more inner searching nowadays. I just finished Tobias Smollett's "Travels in France and Italy" which would never sell today. Smollett has a curmudgeonly bent, and most of what he focuses on sounds plaintive. Having read two of his novels as well, it's interesting to see how his concerns while traveling (e.g. health, cleanliness)make their way into his ficiton. McCarthy's book is probably more novelistic to begin with.
You're right about McCarthy and his book. I can't speak to Smollett, who I've never read. Perhaps what my experience is showing is that I haven't read enough travel writing to offer a cogent criticism.
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