Child of God

Yet another work of fiction that's inspired me with a craving for more from the author, McCarthy creates an almost unrelenting gauntlet of hopelessness, humanity (for better and worse), and tale. Londonian in spirit and transgressive in style, this work tells a beautifully constructed narrative that was unapologetically regressive but simultaneously characteristically revolutionary thanks to McCarthy's intimately bleak attention to character and experience. Although, the story seemed to revel in moments of metaphor or simile (those otherwise beautiful Londonian passages) almost superfluously, bringing it just a hair short of perfection.

Despite its only three-hour run-time, McCarthy doesn't waste a page telling this transgressive gem. Suffice to say, I'll be reading more McCarthy.