Wolves Within” McCarthy’s Call to the Wild and the Divine
I never thought I'd find myself glued to a screen, watching a literary discussion from the Meeting of Rimini. But there I was, captivated by Professor Martina Saltamacchia, Stas' Gawronski and Alessandro Zaccuri unpacking the works of Cormac McCarthy. It got me thinking - why does McCarthy's stuff still hit so hard?
Maybe it's because his characters aren't just characters. They're us, warts and all, stumbling through life trying to make sense of... well, everything. Take that kid in the story they mentioned - the one who hears wolves howling and can't help but crawl up a hill to check it out. Isn't that all of us? Hearing something wild and mysterious calling out, and feeling that itch to go see what it's all about?
But here's the kicker - McCarthy doesn't let us off easy. Zaccuri nailed it when he said McCarthy "frees the reader from the very dangerous suspicion of being good." Ouch. But also... yeah. How many times have we caught ourselves thinking we're the good guys in our own stories? McCarthy's like, "Hold up, not so fast."
This whole "journey to the essential" thing they talked about - it's not about becoming perfect. It's messier than that. It's about looking at the wolves outside and realizing we've got some of that wildness in us too. And maybe that's okay? Maybe that's even necessary?
I keep thinking about that boy in the story, carrying around this big secret about what he saw with the wolves. Aren't we all carrying around stuff like that? Moments where we've glimpsed something bigger, wilder, more mysterious than our day-to-day lives?
But here's where it gets really interesting. This journey we're on, it's not just about seeking something out there. It's more like we're being drawn towards something that's already there. Like that kid with the wolves - he didn't go looking for them. Their howl pulled him in. It's as if we're all carrying around this pre-existing attraction to something bigger than ourselves.
And man, is it complicated. McCarthy doesn't shy away from the tough stuff. There's this constant tug-of-war between wanting to connect with something sacred and the temptation to just throw our hands up and say none of it matters. Good, evil - who cares, right? But that's the trap. That's the seduction of nihilism that McCarthy warns us about. It's not that evil doesn't exist - it's the idea that neither good nor evil really matter in the end.
But here's the thing - we can't wrap our heads around the divine. It's too big, too... other. We've got to learn to be okay with not understanding. To embrace the mystery without trying to control it or shrink it down to our size.
McCarthy's genius is in showing us that being truly open means taking it all in - the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. Life's beautiful, sure, but it's also exhausting and sometimes just plain awful. And we've got to be willing to face all of it.
There's this vulnerability that comes with it all. Like when you're hit with something so big, so beyond yourself, that all you can do is cry. Those tears? They're not weakness. They're a sign that we're human, that we need something beyond ourselves.
In McCarthy's world, we're all a bit like orphans, aren't we? Lost and alone. But then there's this moment of connection. Like in "The Road," where the father and son carry that metaphorical fire through a world gone to hell. It's not just about survival anymore. It's about finding the divine in that connection, in that love.
And at the end of it all? There's mercy. Not just being good or doing the right thing, but something bigger. It's like the breath of God, shaping the future. It's not some abstract idea - it's real, tangible, promising that someone or something out there cares about what happens to us.
That's the shift, isn't it? From thinking about God as this demanding voice booming from the sky to feeling God's breath - gentle, nurturing, understanding. It's a whole new way of thinking about our relationship with the divine.
Look, I'm no literary critic. But watching this Rimini talk made me want to dust off my old McCarthy books. Maybe give them another read. Because it feels like he's got something to say about... I don't know, being human? About how we're all a bit messed up, a bit wild, but still searching for something meaningful?
If you're curious (and I gotta admit, I am), check out the full video from the
Fair warning - you might think a literature dialogue can be kind of "boring", but trust me, this is anything but. It's like diving headfirst into the wild, untamed landscape of McCarthy's mind. You'll come out the other side, seeing the world differently, feeling the pulse of something primal and profound. It's not just talk - it's an adventure for your brain and your soul. Who knows? Maybe you'll hear your own wolf howl. And maybe, just maybe, you'll feel that urge to crawl up the hill and see what's out there. Just don't be surprised if what you find is a bit of yourself, staring back with wild eyes.
Morris Caplin