So far, the book is full of really engaging descriptions, but the plot is paced oddly. The first page and a half, which we read on the annotation test, is really slow and descriptive, focusing on things the character senses rather than things that go on. As the story progresses a little bit, it feels like a lot of things happen, but the narration pays little attention to them. For example, right after the passage about the candle and the train, there’s a break in the text, and the very next thing it says is “He saw his father at the funeral” (McCarthy 6). Who saw whose father at whose funeral? With some heavy inferences, one can discern that the same man who watched the train go by (who is later revealed to be named John Grady Cole) lives some distance from his father, and the dead man was his grandfather. But that takes some effort, because McCarthy just narrates exactly what Cole does without pausing to explain the background of his life, like when he describes the way “he put his hand on the coffeepot to test it and he took down a cup and poured it and walked out and up the hallway” (10). Where the coffeepot is, from where he took “down” a cup, and to where he walks are left to the reader’s imagination. McCarthy is much more concerned with exceptional detail than big ideas that his character Cole would take for granted.
I agree Eliza, the descriptions of objects and subjects are much more thorough than anything else. The reader is left then with pretty words rather than understanding, at least at first. This was probably a conscious choice on McCarthy's part so why would he chose to leave the reader not knowing so much at first? We had looked at McCarthy’s writing during class and compared it to the rhythm of a galloping horse. I did the same to the first few pages of the book and compared it to a horse as well because when you meet horse, especially if it were to be in the wild you wouldn’t know much background and instead you’d admire it’s beauty. This is just like McCarthy’s writing where we are left to appreciate the writing at first without much background.
I absolutely agree with the point you made about watching at first rather than jumping right on an untamed horse and trying to ride it. The narration is still really distant. Compared to the first ten pages, the new descriptions are still beautiful and engaging, but with a little more substance--and a ton more dialogue. The tricky thing about the dialogue, though, is that McCarthy never uses quotation marks, and he rarely outright tells the reader who says what. He also sometimes doesn’t use apostrophes, which bothers me. I did love this part, though, on page 35: “Rawlins rolled a cigarette and lit it with a coal and lay back against his saddle. I’m goin to tell you somethin. Tell it. I could get used to this life. He drew on the cigarette and held it out to one side and tapped the ash with a delicate motion of his forefinger. It wouldnt take me no time at all.” This epitomizes the style so far: bare bones, but still evocative of mental pictures. McCarthy seems to be focusing a lot on the actions you’d pay attention to in a real setting, rather than the background information you’d just absorb (like how old Rawlins is, for example—we have no idea, but John Grady does and doesn’t feel it’s important enough to tell us).
As you said, McCarthy doesn’t give a lot of explicit information about the characters. So far we’ve been introduced to John Grady Cole, Lacey Rawlins, and Jimmy Blevins. Instead of outright telling us what each character is like, Mccarthy uses specific instances to show us the nature of his characters. This is much more interesting because the reader has to engage with the text a lot more to understand the characters. While we aren’t told a lot of information about John Grady we can infer thus far that he is a reserved and analytical character. While we do see more dialogue between John Grady and Rawlins it is abrupt and to the point and Rawlins is usually the one to initiate the conversation and receive a few words in response from John Grady indicating his reservation. We see John Grady’s close attention to detail when he’s able to realize that someone is following them on page 38: “There’s been somebody following us, John Grady said. Did you see em? Not yet. Somebody horseback? Yeah. Rawlins studied the road across the river. Why ain’t it just somebody ridin? Cause they’d showed up at the river by now.” This is an example of the abrupt dialogue between Rawlins and John Grady and also shows that John Grady was able to discern that they were being followed using logic; if they weren’t being followed then the rider behind them would have been ahead of them since they had stopped.
Characters are almost always my favorite part of every book I read, but these ones are exceptional. In just under 100 pages of very sparse information that the reader has to infer, like you said, I feel like I know them. John Grady is absolutely my favorite. He’s quiet, but when he does, speak, it’s very thoughtful and observant. That quote you mentioned is one example of this. Another one that I loved was when Rawlins and Blevins were arguing about whether John Grady and Rawlins would rescue Blevins’s horse from the town where he had been taken. Rawlins is all for leaving Blevins alone and with nothing more than his boxers in the desert, but John Grady presents a compromise: “We get your horse you’ll be ready to ride” (80). Judiciously fair--that’s the cruelest he’s been so far. This is in sharp contrast to Rawlins, who seems just the opposite. Where John Grady is reserved and succinct, Rawlins is brash and talkative. He has a good heart, to be sure, but he’s also impulsive and quick to anger. They complement each other well. Some of the mysteries from earlier in the story have been cleared up, but we still don’t know much at all about Blevins. Is that his real name? How did he come across this marvelous horse? And where is he going (or from whom is he running)? I’m curious to find out.
One passage that sums up the characteristics of Rawlins and John Grady that you have identified is on page 69: "There were spits of rain in the wind. Blevins’ hat lay in the road and Rawlins tried to ride his horse over it but the horse just stepped around it. John Grady slid one boot out of the stirrup and leaned down and picked up the hat without dismounting." Rawlins’ intention of stepping on Blevins’ hat shows his harsh nature and his lack of toleration. He can’t accept Blevins’ being a part of their group and so works to make him feel uncomfortable, ultimately antagonizing him. John Grady, on the other hand, is much more accepting and even kind as he gracefully goes to pick up Blevins’ hat without even dismounting. This passage might even foreshadow how future events will play out. The harsh rain represents adversity so that in the face of adversity, Rawlins might try to step on Blevins as he tried to step on his hat and it’ll have to be John Grady that rescues Blevins not only from Rawlins but from whatever adversity they may face. It is also interesting that Rawlins’ horse avoids stepping on the hat despite his command to do so. This is very much like the dynamic between Rawlins and John Grady so that the horse is a symbol for John Grady. While Rawlins encourages John Grady to treat Blevins harshly and even abandon him, John Grady steps around any conflict as the horse stepped around Blevins’ hat.
I love the idea that John Grady is more horse than human. We learned early on that he's a natural rider, but in this week's passage, it becomes really clear that he is intuitively attuned to them in a whole other way. In training the sixteen wild colts on the hacienda within a week, he shows everyone (including Rawlins, the hardened cowboys, and the reader) that it’s possible to tame a horse without “breaking” them the traditional way (which is essentially beating the spirit out of the animal). As a horse person, this passage was really remarkable to me—I don’t know if it had the same effect on you as it did on me, but I just loved it. “They did not smell like horses,” it says when John Grady is approaching the first horse. “They smelled like what they were, wild animals” (103). Considering most every sentence in this book is winding and at least two lines long, these short quips are exceptional. They show a revelation: instead of the stream-of-consciousness observations that fill most of the book, they demonstrate something new, something different—something that made John Grady stop and think. I also really love another part, on page 141, but we only technically read to page 139, so I won’t be specific. I’ll just say that there are some reasons why SOME people like it, but I am absolutely in love with the descriptions… not necessarily the actions/events.
(Please ignore the "comment missing" thing. I was accidentally signed into a different account when I posted it the first time.)
You sum up John Grady nicely in saying that he is more horse than human. You also make the connection between how John Grady perceives the wild spirit of a horse and in an earlier passage Rawlins begins to contemplate his own wild spirit within. What animal would be most akin to Rawlins? While there is a clear association between John Grady and horses there is no such comparison between Rawlins and another animal. To begin moving away towards other concepts behind the book, gender roles really begin to standout in the last few pages of our reading. Prior to this section there is no clear distinction between men and women because we follow the story of men and horses with few women ever present. Then we are told that in Mexico, “a woman’s reputation is all she has” (137) and that “a man may lose his honor and regain it again. But a woman cannot. She cannot” (138). I think this holds true for women that are not independent. In a society like Mexico’s, a woman gets ahead in life by marrying a decent man who will provide for her. This was especially true then and holds true today; women are not given so many options because of the expectations placed on them by society to take care of the home. If a woman tarnished her reputation then, who would want an improper wife? I don’t agree with the idea, but I believe that is the reality that women face in Mexico.
I agree with what you said about the gender roles. I’ve never been to Mexico or experienced the culture in a non-Americianized way, but when we were in Guatemala (which neighbors Mexico and has a similar history of Spanish conquest), I definitely noticed that women have fewer opportunities than men. It’s sad and it shouldn’t be that way, but it is. In the context of the story, this seems to be the biggest obstacle to a relationship between John Grady and Alejandra. They really like each other, and it’s implied that they’ve slept together (142), but Alejandra’s great aunt is opposed to their relationship because of the double standard in terms of gender (for example, nobody is concerned with John Grady’s reputation) that you mentioned.
Rawlins, in my opinion, is a coyote. He’s loyal and masculine, like a dog, but he has another side as well: tricky, quick to anger, and even a little predatory at times. I had thought of this independently of John Grady as a horse, but now I realize that coyotes prey on horses in the wild. Might Rawlins lead, directly or indirectly, to some harm to John Grady? I hope not—their friendship seems genuine despite their arguments—but the more I think about it, the more likely it seems.
By the way, crazy plot twist at the end of chapter two!
The last couple weeks’ worth of reading has seemed, at least to me, entirely disconnected from the first half of the book. At first it was all about the land and the horses, while John Grady and an assorted cast of others floated around in it. I liked that a lot. Then it became about John Grady plus Rawlins and Blevins, and their journey from Texas to the ranch. Then it was about the ranch. Then it was about the prison. Now John Grady is back at the ranch, Rawlins has returned to Texas, Blevins is dead, and the thing that seems to matter to John Grady is Alejandra—who has promised her great-aunt that she will never see him again. Where does the story go from here? There are still over 70 pages to go. I’m curious where the plot goes next.
There is one part that I want to draw attention to because I thought it was the most interesting thing so far in the book. On pages 162-169, when John Grady and Rawlins first arrive at the jail in Saltillo, the guard questions them separately. First, this is remarkable because the rest of the story is about John Grady and him only, but the omniscient third-person narrator follows Rawlins for a while. The narrator notes the coffee and three-day-old newspaper when Rawlins is in the office (162). On the other hand, when John Grady goes in just minutes later, the narration remarks upon the dusty calendar, the empty birdcage, the folding chairs in the corner, an old oil lamp, an ashtray, and a pencil that he notices has been sharpened by a knife (166). Here’s another contrast between these two young men: John Grady, in addition to being more judicial and nurturing than Rawlins, is also far more observational.
The element of this week's reading that most stood out to me was that the plot, which before raced from event to event, slowed down a lot. Throughout the whole week's worth of reading, the only major events were John Grady talking with Alejandra's great-aunt and then spending one last night with Alejandra in a strange city. The great-aunt's story was interesting to me. On courage, she says that wanting to be brave is "the thing itself" (235), which separates it from most other personal character traits. She seems to have had a hard life, but what didn't kill her--suffering a deforming injury to her hand, losing the man she loved and still loves--made her stronger. But it has also made her harder. My opinion is that the loss of the man she loved makes her inclined to shield Alejandra from such young and passionate love.
And their love--Alejandra's and John Grady's--certainly is passionate. Their one night in Zacatecas is very emotional, as demonstrated by when Alejandra "raised her eyes and looked at [John Grady]. He'd never seen despair before. He thought he had, but he had not" (251) and later tells him that they cannot be together. The idea of having to choose between romantic and familial love is an old one, and McCarthy dwells on it. Alejandra has chosen to defy her family's wishes for her time with John Grady, but cannot bring herself to shed herself of them entirely and have a future with him. However, my guess is that she'll come back to him in the end.
Riders, This discourse shines with the intensity of reflection both of you convey in every post. Both of you have a gift for deep, deep reflection that focuses in on the particular and uses it as a lens through which to interpret the whole. Your voices in conversation here are strong not only individually, but you build on each other's ideas brilliantly. It's a pleasure to read!
So far, the book is full of really engaging descriptions, but the plot is paced oddly. The first page and a half, which we read on the annotation test, is really slow and descriptive, focusing on things the character senses rather than things that go on. As the story progresses a little bit, it feels like a lot of things happen, but the narration pays little attention to them. For example, right after the passage about the candle and the train, there’s a break in the text, and the very next thing it says is “He saw his father at the funeral” (McCarthy 6). Who saw whose father at whose funeral? With some heavy inferences, one can discern that the same man who watched the train go by (who is later revealed to be named John Grady Cole) lives some distance from his father, and the dead man was his grandfather. But that takes some effort, because McCarthy just narrates exactly what Cole does without pausing to explain the background of his life, like when he describes the way “he put his hand on the coffeepot to test it and he took down a cup and poured it and walked out and up the hallway” (10). Where the coffeepot is, from where he took “down” a cup, and to where he walks are left to the reader’s imagination. McCarthy is much more concerned with exceptional detail than big ideas that his character Cole would take for granted.
ReplyDeleteI agree Eliza, the descriptions of objects and subjects are much more thorough than anything else. The reader is left then with pretty words rather than understanding, at least at first. This was probably a conscious choice on McCarthy's part so why would he chose to leave the reader not knowing so much at first? We had looked at McCarthy’s writing during class and compared it to the rhythm of a galloping horse. I did the same to the first few pages of the book and compared it to a horse as well because when you meet horse, especially if it were to be in the wild you wouldn’t know much background and instead you’d admire it’s beauty. This is just like McCarthy’s writing where we are left to appreciate the writing at first without much background.
ReplyDeleteI absolutely agree with the point you made about watching at first rather than jumping right on an untamed horse and trying to ride it. The narration is still really distant. Compared to the first ten pages, the new descriptions are still beautiful and engaging, but with a little more substance--and a ton more dialogue. The tricky thing about the dialogue, though, is that McCarthy never uses quotation marks, and he rarely outright tells the reader who says what. He also sometimes doesn’t use apostrophes, which bothers me. I did love this part, though, on page 35:
ReplyDelete“Rawlins rolled a cigarette and lit it with a coal and lay back against his saddle. I’m goin to tell you somethin.
Tell it.
I could get used to this life.
He drew on the cigarette and held it out to one side and tapped the ash with a delicate motion of his forefinger. It wouldnt take me no time at all.”
This epitomizes the style so far: bare bones, but still evocative of mental pictures. McCarthy seems to be focusing a lot on the actions you’d pay attention to in a real setting, rather than the background information you’d just absorb (like how old Rawlins is, for example—we have no idea, but John Grady does and doesn’t feel it’s important enough to tell us).
As you said, McCarthy doesn’t give a lot of explicit information about the characters. So far we’ve been introduced to John Grady Cole, Lacey Rawlins, and Jimmy Blevins. Instead of outright telling us what each character is like, Mccarthy uses specific instances to show us the nature of his characters. This is much more interesting because the reader has to engage with the text a lot more to understand the characters. While we aren’t told a lot of information about John Grady we can infer thus far that he is a reserved and analytical character. While we do see more dialogue between John Grady and Rawlins it is abrupt and to the point and Rawlins is usually the one to initiate the conversation and receive a few words in response from John Grady indicating his reservation. We see John Grady’s close attention to detail when he’s able to realize that someone is following them on page 38:
ReplyDelete“There’s been somebody following us, John Grady said.
Did you see em?
Not yet.
Somebody horseback?
Yeah.
Rawlins studied the road across the river. Why ain’t it just somebody ridin?
Cause they’d showed up at the river by now.”
This is an example of the abrupt dialogue between Rawlins and John Grady and also shows that John Grady was able to discern that they were being followed using logic; if they weren’t being followed then the rider behind them would have been ahead of them since they had stopped.
Characters are almost always my favorite part of every book I read, but these ones are exceptional. In just under 100 pages of very sparse information that the reader has to infer, like you said, I feel like I know them. John Grady is absolutely my favorite. He’s quiet, but when he does, speak, it’s very thoughtful and observant. That quote you mentioned is one example of this. Another one that I loved was when Rawlins and Blevins were arguing about whether John Grady and Rawlins would rescue Blevins’s horse from the town where he had been taken. Rawlins is all for leaving Blevins alone and with nothing more than his boxers in the desert, but John Grady presents a compromise: “We get your horse you’ll be ready to ride” (80). Judiciously fair--that’s the cruelest he’s been so far. This is in sharp contrast to Rawlins, who seems just the opposite. Where John Grady is reserved and succinct, Rawlins is brash and talkative. He has a good heart, to be sure, but he’s also impulsive and quick to anger. They complement each other well. Some of the mysteries from earlier in the story have been cleared up, but we still don’t know much at all about Blevins. Is that his real name? How did he come across this marvelous horse? And where is he going (or from whom is he running)? I’m curious to find out.
ReplyDeleteOne passage that sums up the characteristics of Rawlins and John Grady that you have identified is on page 69:
ReplyDelete"There were spits of rain in the wind. Blevins’ hat lay in the road and Rawlins tried to ride his horse over it but the horse just stepped around it. John Grady slid one boot out of the stirrup and leaned down and picked up the hat without dismounting."
Rawlins’ intention of stepping on Blevins’ hat shows his harsh nature and his lack of toleration. He can’t accept Blevins’ being a part of their group and so works to make him feel uncomfortable, ultimately antagonizing him. John Grady, on the other hand, is much more accepting and even kind as he gracefully goes to pick up Blevins’ hat without even dismounting. This passage might even foreshadow how future events will play out. The harsh rain represents adversity so that in the face of adversity, Rawlins might try to step on Blevins as he tried to step on his hat and it’ll have to be John Grady that rescues Blevins not only from Rawlins but from whatever adversity they may face. It is also interesting that Rawlins’ horse avoids stepping on the hat despite his command to do so. This is very much like the dynamic between Rawlins and John Grady so that the horse is a symbol for John Grady. While Rawlins encourages John Grady to treat Blevins harshly and even abandon him, John Grady steps around any conflict as the horse stepped around Blevins’ hat.
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ReplyDeleteI love the idea that John Grady is more horse than human. We learned early on that he's a natural rider, but in this week's passage, it becomes really clear that he is intuitively attuned to them in a whole other way. In training the sixteen wild colts on the hacienda within a week, he shows everyone (including Rawlins, the hardened cowboys, and the reader) that it’s possible to tame a horse without “breaking” them the traditional way (which is essentially beating the spirit out of the animal). As a horse person, this passage was really remarkable to me—I don’t know if it had the same effect on you as it did on me, but I just loved it. “They did not smell like horses,” it says when John Grady is approaching the first horse. “They smelled like what they were, wild animals” (103). Considering most every sentence in this book is winding and at least two lines long, these short quips are exceptional. They show a revelation: instead of the stream-of-consciousness observations that fill most of the book, they demonstrate something new, something different—something that made John Grady stop and think.
ReplyDeleteI also really love another part, on page 141, but we only technically read to page 139, so I won’t be specific. I’ll just say that there are some reasons why SOME people like it, but I am absolutely in love with the descriptions… not necessarily the actions/events.
(Please ignore the "comment missing" thing. I was accidentally signed into a different account when I posted it the first time.)
You sum up John Grady nicely in saying that he is more horse than human. You also make the connection between how John Grady perceives the wild spirit of a horse and in an earlier passage Rawlins begins to contemplate his own wild spirit within. What animal would be most akin to Rawlins? While there is a clear association between John Grady and horses there is no such comparison between Rawlins and another animal.
ReplyDeleteTo begin moving away towards other concepts behind the book, gender roles really begin to standout in the last few pages of our reading. Prior to this section there is no clear distinction between men and women because we follow the story of men and horses with few women ever present. Then we are told that in Mexico, “a woman’s reputation is all she has” (137) and that “a man may lose his honor and regain it again. But a woman cannot. She cannot” (138). I think this holds true for women that are not independent. In a society like Mexico’s, a woman gets ahead in life by marrying a decent man who will provide for her. This was especially true then and holds true today; women are not given so many options because of the expectations placed on them by society to take care of the home. If a woman tarnished her reputation then, who would want an improper wife? I don’t agree with the idea, but I believe that is the reality that women face in Mexico.
I agree with what you said about the gender roles. I’ve never been to Mexico or experienced the culture in a non-Americianized way, but when we were in Guatemala (which neighbors Mexico and has a similar history of Spanish conquest), I definitely noticed that women have fewer opportunities than men. It’s sad and it shouldn’t be that way, but it is. In the context of the story, this seems to be the biggest obstacle to a relationship between John Grady and Alejandra. They really like each other, and it’s implied that they’ve slept together (142), but Alejandra’s great aunt is opposed to their relationship because of the double standard in terms of gender (for example, nobody is concerned with John Grady’s reputation) that you mentioned.
ReplyDeleteRawlins, in my opinion, is a coyote. He’s loyal and masculine, like a dog, but he has another side as well: tricky, quick to anger, and even a little predatory at times. I had thought of this independently of John Grady as a horse, but now I realize that coyotes prey on horses in the wild. Might Rawlins lead, directly or indirectly, to some harm to John Grady? I hope not—their friendship seems genuine despite their arguments—but the more I think about it, the more likely it seems.
By the way, crazy plot twist at the end of chapter two!
The last couple weeks’ worth of reading has seemed, at least to me, entirely disconnected from the first half of the book. At first it was all about the land and the horses, while John Grady and an assorted cast of others floated around in it. I liked that a lot. Then it became about John Grady plus Rawlins and Blevins, and their journey from Texas to the ranch. Then it was about the ranch. Then it was about the prison. Now John Grady is back at the ranch, Rawlins has returned to Texas, Blevins is dead, and the thing that seems to matter to John Grady is Alejandra—who has promised her great-aunt that she will never see him again. Where does the story go from here? There are still over 70 pages to go. I’m curious where the plot goes next.
ReplyDeleteThere is one part that I want to draw attention to because I thought it was the most interesting thing so far in the book. On pages 162-169, when John Grady and Rawlins first arrive at the jail in Saltillo, the guard questions them separately. First, this is remarkable because the rest of the story is about John Grady and him only, but the omniscient third-person narrator follows Rawlins for a while. The narrator notes the coffee and three-day-old newspaper when Rawlins is in the office (162). On the other hand, when John Grady goes in just minutes later, the narration remarks upon the dusty calendar, the empty birdcage, the folding chairs in the corner, an old oil lamp, an ashtray, and a pencil that he notices has been sharpened by a knife (166). Here’s another contrast between these two young men: John Grady, in addition to being more judicial and nurturing than Rawlins, is also far more observational.
The element of this week's reading that most stood out to me was that the plot, which before raced from event to event, slowed down a lot. Throughout the whole week's worth of reading, the only major events were John Grady talking with Alejandra's great-aunt and then spending one last night with Alejandra in a strange city. The great-aunt's story was interesting to me. On courage, she says that wanting to be brave is "the thing itself" (235), which separates it from most other personal character traits. She seems to have had a hard life, but what didn't kill her--suffering a deforming injury to her hand, losing the man she loved and still loves--made her stronger. But it has also made her harder. My opinion is that the loss of the man she loved makes her inclined to shield Alejandra from such young and passionate love.
ReplyDeleteAnd their love--Alejandra's and John Grady's--certainly is passionate. Their one night in Zacatecas is very emotional, as demonstrated by when Alejandra "raised her eyes and looked at [John Grady]. He'd never seen despair before. He thought he had, but he had not" (251) and later tells him that they cannot be together. The idea of having to choose between romantic and familial love is an old one, and McCarthy dwells on it. Alejandra has chosen to defy her family's wishes for her time with John Grady, but cannot bring herself to shed herself of them entirely and have a future with him. However, my guess is that she'll come back to him in the end.
Riders,
ReplyDeleteThis discourse shines with the intensity of reflection both of you convey in every post. Both of you have a gift for deep, deep reflection that focuses in on the particular and uses it as a lens through which to interpret the whole. Your voices in conversation here are strong not only individually, but you build on each other's ideas brilliantly. It's a pleasure to read!
I would just like to say thank you for the help
ReplyDelete