Suttree

by Cormac McCarthy

From the bestselling author of The Passenger and the Pulitzer Prize–winning novel The Road, here is the story of Cornelius Suttree, who has forsaken a life of privilege with his prominent family to live in a dilapidated houseboat on the Tennessee River near Knoxville.

Remaining on the margins of the outcast community there—a brilliantly imagined collection of eccentrics, criminals, and squatters—he rises above the physical and human squalor with detachment, humor, and dignity.

Look for Cormac McCarthy's latest bestselling novels, The Passenger and Stella Maris.

• ISBN10: 0679736328
• ISBN13: 9780679736325
• Publish Date: 5 May 1992 (first published 1 January 1979)
• Publish Status: Active
• Publish Country: US
• Publisher: Random House USA Inc
• Imprint: Random House Inc
• Format: Paperback (US Trade)
• Pages: 480
• Language: English
• URL: https://penguinrandomhouse.com/books/isbn/9780679736325

Reviews

[jamiereadthis]

I feel like I could talk myself up to five stars or down to three, and it’s all emotional gut responses, which is what I least like to trust. Parts of it had my heart immediately. Parts of it were too heavy a burden to bear. The pall of oppression and wretchedness, at times, escalating to pure fantasy, not reality. Suttree self-inflicting his descent into the darkest depths.

The parts I loved most are the parts I always love most with McCarthy, the sweet, dumb clarity of youth, the luck and love in a bloodbath world. Harrogate the melon-mounter, the pearl-hustler’s daughter. Which speaks to nothing except my own youth, I’m sure. Thinking that McCarthy shows more of his youth here, not yet in full possession of the balance and wisdom to come.

But I like feeling uncertain about this. McCarthy puts a hell of a lot into Suttree the man. It will stick with me.

And what happens then?
When?
After you’re dead.
Dont nothin happen. You’re dead.
You told me once you believed in God.
The old man waved his hand. Maybe, he said. I got no reason to think he believes in me. Oh I’d like to see him for a minute if I could.
What would you say to him?
Well, I think I’d just tell him. I’d say: Wait a minute. Wait just one minute before you start in on me. Before you say anything, there’s just one thing I’d like to know. And he’ll say: What’s that? And then I’m goin to ast him: What did you have me in that crapgame down there for anyway? I couldnt put any part of it together.
Suttree smiled. What do you think he’ll say?
The ragpicker spat and wiped his mouth. I dont believe he can answer it, he said. I dont believe there is a answer.