NYRB Classics collector. Reads anything, so long as it's good. Sometimes historian. Frequently grumpy: you've been warned. Also at aliceunderskies.tumblr.com.
I really adore some of McCarthy's sentences, and I was really excited in the first few pages when I had to pause to look up three words, but by the end of this book I was hurrying to be done--not because I was enthralled (though I suppose I was, in a way) but because I was having nightmares about post-apocalyptic cannibals and was starting to feel perpetually horrified. I recognize that McCarthy is an excellent writer--that's exactly why I have trouble reading him. There's something gorgeous about the cadence of his creepy-cold sentences that gets stuck in my brain, which is great except his material is dark and I am a scaredy cat who can't handle horror movies or even sometimes particularly tense episodes of television crime shows.