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"๐ˆ๐Ÿ ๐†๐จ๐ ๐ฆ๐ž๐š๐ง๐ญ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ข๐ง๐ญ๐ž๐ซ๐Ÿ๐ž๐ซ๐ž ๐ข๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐๐ž๐ ๐ž๐ง๐ž๐ซ๐š๐œ๐ฒ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ฆ๐š๐ง๐ค๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ฐ๐จ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ ๐ก๐ž ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐ก๐š๐ฏ๐ž ๐๐จ๐ง๐ž ๐ฌ๐จ ๐›๐ฒ
๐ง๐จ๐ฐ? ๐–๐จ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ฌ ๐œ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ฆ๐ฌ๐ž๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ฌ, ๐ฆ๐š๐ง. ๐–๐ก๐š๐ญ ๐จ๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ซ ๐œ๐ซ๐ž๐š๐ญ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ž ๐œ๐จ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐? ๐€๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ซ๐š๐œ๐ž ๐จ๐Ÿ
๐ฆ๐š๐ง ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐ฆ๐จ๐ซ๐ž ๐ฉ๐ซ๐ž๐๐š๐œ๐ข๐จ๐ฎ๐ฌ ๐ฒ๐ž๐ญ? ๐“๐ก๐ž ๐ฐ๐š๐ฒ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ฐ๐จ๐ซ๐ฅ๐ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ญ๐จ ๐›๐ฅ๐จ๐จ๐ฆ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐จ ๐Ÿ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฐ๐ž๐ซ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐๐ข๐ž ๐›๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ข๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐š๐Ÿ๐Ÿ๐š๐ข๐ซ๐ฌ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ฆ๐ž๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ซ๐ž ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ง๐จ ๐ฐ๐š๐ง๐ข๐ง๐  ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐ง๐จ๐จ๐ง ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ž๐ฑ๐ฉ๐ซ๐ž๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐ฌ๐ข๐ ๐ง๐š๐ฅ๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐จ๐ง๐ฌ๐ž๐ญ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐ง๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ."


After a brief pause amid the breath of petrified nostrils, I devoured Blood Meridian's ย last pages. I closed the book and felt as if I had just stepped off a smokey crimson-red dance floor. Did I just dance with the devil? Oh yeah. This was an exhausting, grotesque dance. A ground zero of transgression. Eyes were burning, lungs on fire. There is something to be said about a book that can leave you breathless even after reading it for the 4th time.


Blood Meridian is probably one of the most violent, brutal, nihilistic portraits of the human condition at its worst ever written.


Roughly based on historical events that took place in the middle of the 19th century, the story revolves around a group of militia scalp hunters riding through the Mexican-American borderlands, leaving piles of bodies behind them after committing the most horrific atrocities one can imagine, and those one can't. This is the oldest story of them all, right? From the rotting womb of the earth, rising the hand of man, turning the pages of history, leaving nothing but destruction. Are we destined to kill and destroy? Is it rooted deep in our core?ย 


"๐–๐š๐ซ ๐ฐ๐š๐ฌ ๐š๐ฅ๐ฐ๐š๐ฒ๐ฌ ๐ก๐ž๐ซ๐ž. ๐๐ž๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ๐ž ๐ฆ๐š๐ง
๐ฐ๐š๐ฌ, ๐ฐ๐š๐ซ ๐ฐ๐š๐ข๐ญ๐ž๐ ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ ๐ก๐ข๐ฆ. ๐“๐ก๐ž
๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ญ๐ข๐ฆ๐š๐ญ๐ž ๐ญ๐ซ๐š๐๐ž ๐š๐ฐ๐š๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ข๐ญ๐ฌ ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ญ๐ข๐ฆ๐š๐ญ๐ž ๐ฉ๐ซ๐š๐œ๐ญ๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง๐ž๐ซ."


The contrast between the extreme violence and ๐˜พ๐™ค๐™ง๐™ข๐™–๐™˜ ๐™ˆ๐™˜๐˜พ๐™–๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™๐™ฎ'๐™จ ย breathtaking writing in this brutal masterpiece is probably one of my favorite things about it. Always was. McCarthy's writing ย is haunting, immersing. The landscape descriptions are otherworldly and bewitching. Where smoke meets the sky and the grass is dying on bitter bone, in the middle of it all, there is THE JUDGE. The eye of the storm, the agent of the devil himself, perhaps. He is the epitome of nihilism and annihilation, and yet the most compelling character in the book.


This literary piece of art might not be for everyone. It's not an easy book, however, probably one of the most rewarding I've ever read, one that forever changed the way I experience literature. It still haunts my thoughts to this day.


"๐‡๐ž ๐๐š๐ง๐œ๐ž๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง ๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ง ๐ฌ๐ก๐š๐๐จ๐ฐ ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ก๐ž ๐ข๐ฌ ๐š ๐ ๐ซ๐ž๐š๐ญ ๐Ÿ๐š๐ฏ๐จ๐ซ๐ข๐ญ๐ž... ๐‡๐ž ๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐š๐ง๐œ๐ข๐ง๐ , ๐๐š๐ง๐œ๐ข๐ง๐ . ๐‡๐ž ๐ฌ๐š๐ฒ๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ก๐š๐ญ ๐ก๐ž ๐ฐ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ง๐ž๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ ๐๐ข๐ž."