A Review of Cormac McCarthy's Child of God
M Sarki

Lacking the grandeur of the longer and later epic Blood Meridian, Cormac McCarthy's third novel Child of God still manages adroitly to cut a vicious swath through the protective consciousness and leak into another receptacle called soul. Distractions, however, abide. Tragedies glean. But McCarthy's masterly language still persists in its rhythms and turns, marching and driving on with the supreme diction of manifest force. And as disgusting as it sometimes bears out, the novel is left en suite in the very land of the righteous whose world, they like to think, was produced by none other than their own personal God. Confusion reins in this metaphor.

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