Status Updates From Suttree: Romance do autor d...

Unhinged vocabulary, extremely vivid and immersive but you have to google every other word

The last time I drank some of that shit I like to died. I stunk from the inside out. I laid in a tub of hot water all day and climbed out and dried and you could still smell it. I had to burn my clothes. I had the dry heaves, the drizzling shits, the cold shakes and the jakeleg. I can think about it now and feel bad. -- C.M.

pretty good, I think (based only off blood meridian) that I prefer the southern novels to the western novels

Early times. Best little old drink in the world. Get ye a drink, Sut. Suttree held it to the light. Small twigs, debris, matter, coiled in the oily liquid. He shook it. Smoke rose from the yellow floor of the bottle. Shit almighty, he said. -- C.M.

From all old seamy throats of elders, musty books, I've salvaged not a word. In a dream I walked with my grandfather by a dark lake and the old man's talk was filled with incertitude. I saw how all things false fall from the dead. -- C.M.

The shadowed earth in which he squatted bore the stale order of a crypt. -- C.M.

They stood looking at the dead man. The squad workers were coiling their ropes and seeing to their tackle. [...] He lay there in his yellow socks with the flies crawling on the blanket and one hand stretched out on the grass. He wore his watch on the inside of his wrist as some folks do or used to and as Suttree passed he noticed with a feeling he could not name that the dead man's watch was still running. -- C.M.

Down there in grots of fallen light a cat transpires from stone to stone across the cobbles liquid black and sewn in rapid antipodes over the rain dark street to vanish cat and countercat in the rifted works beyond. -- C.M.