Thursday, May 2, 2019

Wildwood Boys by James Carlos Blake

He stares at the utterly uninterested stars and berates himself in a howling silence, curses himself for an irresolute weakling and for being the sort of pathetic fool who wishes he could have a moment back again so he might use it properly. Fool! A man takes an action or he does not-and then the moment is fled to wherever all moments in relentless succession do irretrievably flee.

A masterful novelized account of the life of William “Bloody Bill” Anderson and all the rawness of the days of bushwhacking.

It is bloody, profane, poetic, poignant, in short, a work of art. I have no problem elevating Mr. Blake to the status that is usually reserved for Cormac McCarthy.

I enjoy McCarthy’s work but there is something more accessible in Blake and no less beautifully addressed. 

Easily a masterpiece within the genre.

But…not for the faint-hearted or delicate dispositioned, events are portrayed accurately.

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