Reading Cormac McCarthy is like finding a glow-in-the-dark dinosaur in a coal mine. If you walk through a beautiful park in broad daylight, you likely would never notice it. But if you’re wandering through a pitch dark coal mine with no hope of ever seeing daylight again, that glow-in-the-dark dinosaur is like a galaxy.
Reading Cormac McCarthy is like finding a glow-in-the-dark dinosaur in a coal mine. If you walk through a beautiful park in broad daylight, you likely would never notice it. But if you’re wandering through a pitch dark coal mine with no hope of ever seeing daylight again, that glow-in-the-dark dinosaur is like a galaxy.
Reading Cormac McCarthy is like finding a glow-in-the-dark dinosaur in a coal mine. If you walk through a beautiful park in broad daylight, you likely would never notice it. But if you’re wandering through a pitch dark coal mine with no hope of ever seeing daylight again, that glow-in-the-dark dinosaur is like a galaxy.