Well-written book with a cheesy ending. Can't imagine the movie could be better. McCarthy is sort of like the american Lars von Trier or Haenke. He is a sadist, but even more, he is uber-masculine, obsessed with what it means to be a MAN, which limits him, pushes him ultimately into sentimentality and melodrama in his prose. Can get very tedious the more you read him, "All the Pretty Horses" being a good example.

Coetzee is better, so much better; similar style but not limited.

Wonder what McCarthy's relationship with his father is/was like. Not good I'm thinking.

Also significant that the Coen's chose McCarthy for one of their films. Another duo obsessed with "real men," albeit probably more out of nerdy self-anxiety than pleasing an elusive dad figure.

Anyway, it does get tiresome, all the macho shit.