So I read this Cormac McCarthy book, Child of God, this weekend. One minute, our outcast loner murderer necrophiliac hero is trying to cross a river. Then this happens:
“He could not swim, but how would you drown him? His wrath seemed to buoy him up. Some halt in the way of things seems to work here. See him. You could say he’s sustained by his fellow man, like you. Has peopled the shore with them calling to him. A race that gives suck to the maimed and the crazed, that wants their wrong blood in their history and will have it” (156).
People love McCarthy and people are right.