Why do people call this a difficult book?

Reddit

are you saying he had a ghost writer?
because there is literally no way you can write a novel with both of your hands preoccupied?

>metres

Literally what is wrong with using a thesaraus to find good words?

Being completely serious I see no problem with using obscure words if they're appropriate and used tastefully. There's a whole language of beautiful words, why be angry that someone uses uncommon ones? Do you not have a dictionary? Are you opposed to learning more words?

You're listening to these idiots?

Personally it took me a while to try and interpret various scenes and I took my time enjoying imagining the scenery throughout. Also had to look up some words kek

>Why do people call this a difficult book?

difficult to finish because of how bad it is

redditros will try to pretend this is a masterpiece. ignore them.

>i'm afraid to like books that havent been canonized for over 100 years because i cant form my own opinions

This is the only reason I can think of that someone would insist on dismissing McCarthy

They're trolling you pegleg

Who the fuck is McArthur old man? and one little Fucker will be like, lmao he's the fucking corncob tortillas man lmao you stupid old man. you fucking retard, retarded old man. get tortilla'd you old fuck. hook up your IV to bag of tortillas and get corned you fucking old man.

>I don't understand the purpose of such a register: The Post

OP, what do you think, did he kill the kid?

I read somewhere that it might have been the girl who played with the bear raped and dead in the jake and not the kid, because they were all looking for her and every time a child is not around it's because the judge raped it.

I want to believe. ;_;

But since McCarthy say that there is no mystery even though we seek them, the kid is probably buttfucked to death.

I can't believe I laughed at this.

i'm stealing this material for my Veeky Forums poetry book "samefag copypasta"

>thinking 50 pages in an hour is at all fast

Pa. Why are eggs breakfast?

What.

You can put bacon on lunch.

Ye.

But if you put eggs on stuff it becomes breakfast?

The man spat and said the eggs are not for this world or from this world they come from the chicken but the chicken knows it not.

He wiped his chin and spat.

...

You thought The Road used uncalled-for big words?
Just wow.

sometimes you must simply sit in awe of a great master. one must spend many months in the mountains meditating on the transits of stars and styles to find the flows like that. here is a protean boddhisatva in a humble corner of Veeky Forums. verily we are blessed in the eyes of the lord. wake up to the ongoing genocide of the white race.

How does the writing in Blood Meridian compare to The Road ? I've been reading the latter lately and it's very easy to read so I'm always surprised to see people talking about how sophisticated the prose in BM is.

its like the difference between the hunger games and john greene's corpus

Morning found him shitposting on Veeky Forums inscribing upon the eldesness of the internal web a code that would endure past all reckoning of men who shitpost with him and other men who do not too. Mothers voice came from upstairs carrying naught but reproach and reek of tendies a few days old and shriveled in the plastic cup like shrunken heads of a voodoo seress hung upon a cord that seemed a vein of the planet. The user rose misshapen and of a bearded dewlap like a djinn sweating under the sun that burns timeless upon the cursed land of the shitskins. He reached the kitchen and spat.
Ye queer woman, he said, dont ye know yer responsible for the state of me?
The aches of handholdless virginity laughed at him from the black of her eye much like the globe itself would at a frustrated god watching helplessly the vacuity in which his creation rebelliously dwells. She spat.
Fuckin wench ye are, he said, roastie.
He ate with his fat fingers and grease dripped down his chins and pieces of food adhered to the folds of the sweaty scraps he wore like dust grains upon a sweaty palm. When he was done he retreated into his cave with bitterness and illusions of his state so alien to reality that they seemed it. He spat and went on stroking his pizzle to imagery of drawn figures of the asian race with tongues like cats.

I get unreasonably autistic when someone complains about obscure words in blood meridian. McCarthy spent a long, long time researching every aspect of his book, every word is correctly used and exact to corncob's intention.