grammar...to be followed by death and storms of fire

I'll issue the same vague spoiler-warning that Schratz did, in that I'll not make explicit the dramatic twists and revelations that may (or may not?) await you, but my devious subconscious may plant allusions that your formidable intellects may seize upon. Beware.

I want to talk about grammar. That grammar is generally boring as hell is what makes Mccarthy's style so notable-

I assume that, as a writer of some repute, Cormac knows how to compose a sentence. I further assume that I know how to read, at a level at least comparable to the members of Oprah's book club. So when passages are unclear because of the grammar, I must conclude that it is because Mccarthy wishes for them to be so.

Indeed, it seems that Mccarthy is quite a fan of ambiguity. The only proper name we encounter (Ely) in the story is immediately revealed to be false, everyone else is "he," "the man," or "the boy," which results in some confusion - especially later on in the story, when a couple of "he's" are having a conversation. It is not that the characters never use proper names (I can think of at least one instance of the boy shouting his father's name repeatedly), Cormac just never tells us what they are.

It could be that the grammar is unclear and names are hidden for the same reason: both are inherently referential to a time before the planet was scorched, an epoch that is no longer relevent or useful. "Ely" seems to think so, at least. Certainly, the father's name makes no difference to the son, just the son's name makes not difference to the father - it is only the relationship that matters. While I think that this shrugging-off of the past is a likely reason for the treatment of names, it is probably a bit of a reach for explaining Mccarthy's use of grammar in general.

Here, I think perhaps Mccarthy is blurring boundaries more generally. Boundaries and categories are what society was built upon before everyone got their shit wrecked. The father son duo are doing their best to hold onto these differentiations, but it gets harder and harder as their story progresses. Good Guys, Bad Guys - it sounds like a clean distinction (eating babies seems to be a deal-breaker) and yet the son is constantly seeking reassurance that they haven't crossed some fuzzy line. Good Guys don't steal. Well, I guess it is ok if the owners are dead...or if they are probably dead...or if they are dying...or if the good guy's are really hungry...or if the other guy looks like a bad guy. The father seems unwavering in his conviction of goodness, but his son - a product of this different time - seems more aware that these issues are not clear. It is as the son starts to understand these differentiations more clearly, and assert more cogent opinions, that the grammar becomes most conspicuously confusing. At times, what appears to be the father speaking is revealed to be the son, and vice versa. In addition to showing a transition of responsibility, this grammatical mess perhaps is blurring the final distinction between the father and the son.

I don't think I've ever given much thought to grammar in general, so my skills are lacking. Feel free to tell me why I am wrong. I promise my next post will be on something cooler, like death or firestorms.