Cormac McCarthy: Blood Meridian

Cormac McCarthy: Blood Meridian

Loose strands of ambercolored kelp lay in a rubbery wrack at the tideline. A dead seal. Beyond the inner bay part of a reef in a thin line like something foundered there on which the sea was teething. He squatted in the sand and watched the sun on the hammered face of...
Tom Franklin: Die Gefürchteten

Tom Franklin: Die Gefürchteten

Der Sheriff von Clarke County, Billy Waite, saß auf der Veranda vor seinem Haus und schälte einen großen grünen Apfel. Vor ihm auf dem Geländer lag eine dicke qualmende Havanna-Zigarre, daneben hatte er seine großen schmerzenden Füße hochgelegt. In den Spitzen der...
Cormac McCarthy: The Crossing

Cormac McCarthy: The Crossing

He said that in any case the past was little more than a dream and its force in the world greatly exaggerated. For the world was made new each day and it was only men’s clinging to its vanished husks that could make of that world one husk more. An...
Cormac McCarthy: All the Pretty Horses

Cormac McCarthy: All the Pretty Horses

The boy who rode on slightly before him sat a horse not only as if he’d been born to it which he was but as if were he begot by malice or mischance into some queer land where horses never were he would have found them anyway. Would have known that there was...