Recorded an audio episode of my first Substack post on BLOOD MERIDIAN: free to everyone. If you're driving to be with family this Thanksgiving and want to listen to something Cormac-related, give it a listen.
1/ The first episode of my BLOOD MERIDIAN Substack (The Night Does Not End) is now available to everyone for free. The next episode--a dive into the historical and literary roots of the Judge--will be for paid subscribers only: $5 a month or $30 per year.
2/ Thank you to everyone who has already subscribed! A lot of you encouraged me to do this and I hope you get something worthwhile out of it. If you read this free episode and dig it, please share with anyone you think will dig it too. I'm going through BM tip to butt.
3/ If you're a Blood Meridian fanatic and you read this first Substack episode and can't afford $5 a month, message me and I'll gift it to you. I want as people who care about the book to find their way to this.
I'll be adding audio of me reading each episode as I go.
My BLOOD MERIDIAN Substack—The Night Does Not End—has been created. First post in a few days. Here is the link: bloodmeridian.substack.com
Okay. I tried to make this $1.17 per month, but Substack won’t allow anything less than $5 per month. I was able to set a yearly subscription rate at $30 a year. Sorry. I tried.
For $5 a month you’ll get 4 short essays on Blood Meridian and at least one podcast episode.
I’ll see if I can make my first post/essay free so folks can see if the content is worth paying for.
Update: I will start a BLOOD MERIDIAN Substack. It will be called The Night Does Not End and will cost $1.17 a month (117 is an important number in Cormac’s work) and will pay for the cup of coffee I’ll drink while writing the post. I’ll try to shoot for 4 posts a month.
2/ Maybe, if enough people show interest, these posts/mini-essays will become a book about BLOOD MERIDIAN at some point.
I reckon we’ll see.
3/ Okay. I tried to make this $1.17 per month, but Substack won’t allow anything less than $5 per month. I was able to set a yearly subscription rate at $30 a year. Sorry. I tried.
For $5 a month you’ll get 4 short essays on Blood Meridian and at least one podcast episode.
Seem to be two models for Uber-successful 19th century American poets:
A self-promoting hustler like Walt Whitman who creates the form he wants to write in.
OR:
A meticulous craftswoman like Dickinson who agonizes over her poems then hides them in a drawer to be found someday.
In the 20th century, T.S. Eliot created a third model: he got a literary agent named Ezra Pound and helped create/popularize a brand called Modernism (all while working in a bank).
1/ Who the Kid Kills in BLOOD MERIDIAN and Why, Ultimately, It's Himself:
Teaching BLOOD MERIDIAN this semester has unlocked some kind of Cormac-OCD inside my brain. If you want to mute/block/report me, I get it (I'm liable to mute/block/report myself).
Otherwise, here goes:
2/ In the novel's final chapter, the year is 1878, and the Kid is now a 45-year-old man. He's wandering the plains of North Texas (never do this!) and he encounters a number of young orphan boys who eke out a miserable existence scavenging the bones of slaughtered buffalo.
3/ The boys approach the Kid/the Man and begin to ask him various questions about his life. One of these boys is a surly 15-year-old named Elrod who clearly has a taste for mindless violence. He insults the Kid numerous times, spewing racist jokes all the while.
1/ There's a passage in ALL THE PRETTY HORSES I think about quite often where John Grady is on the ranch down in Mexico. The narrator tells us that the vaqueros John G is having supper with are very interested in America and have many questions about what's going on up there.
2/ But while listening to him talk, they are "careful in their demeanor that they not be thought to have opinions on what they heard for like most men skilled at their work they were scornful of any least suggestion of knowing anything not learned first hand" (95-96)
3/ I remember rereading that passage in the summer of 2005, putting down the book, and then sitting there feeling convicted over how often I expressed opinions about things I hadn't learned firsthand. I felt the absolute correctness of the vaqueros' belief.