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1980, PASS CHRISTIAN, MISSISSIPPI: It is three in the morning when Bobby Western zips the jacket of his wetsuit and plunges from the Coast Guard tender into darkness. His divelight illuminates the sunken jet, nine bodies still buckled in their seats, hair floating, eyes devoid of speculation. Missing from the crash site are the pilot’s flightbag, the plane’s black box, and the tenth passenger. But how? A collateral witness to machinations that can only bring him harm, Western is shadowed in body and spirit—by men with badges; by the ghost of his father, inventor of the bomb that melted glass and flesh in Hiroshima; and by his sister, the love and ruin of his soul. Traversing the American South, from the garrulous barrooms of New Orleans to an abandoned oil rig off the Florida coast, The Passenger is a breathtaking novel of morality and science, the legacy of sin, and the madness that is human consciousness.
Publication Year: 2022
Den eneste McCarthyboken jeg tidligere har lest var Veien. Den har jeg til gjengjeld lest på tre språk. Elsket den! passasjeren er poetisk, mørk og freakishly vakkert skrevet om skam og skyld, oppløsning og tap ogikke minst utenforskap (eksil). MEN: I Veien kan jeg ikke huske kvinnelige skikkelser, de var fraværende, mener jeg å huske. Derfor ble jeg overrasket over at en så dyktig forfatter som McCarthy skriver så banalt om kvinner som han gjorde i Passasjeren! Hva er greia med madonna-hore beskrivelsene til mannlige forfattere? Jeg er så lei det!