Graham Perrett (Moreton, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I don't know who the world's greatest living writer is today, but on Monday it was Cormac McCarthy. On Tuesday, it wasn't. So this Wednesday I say a few words about the loss of one of my favourite ever writers and one of our truly great artists. Cormac McCarthy delivered few words to the world, but every one in his 12 novels, five screenplays and three short stories was precise, pointed and poignant. Many encountered his words via film, for those that don't read. It's rare for a classic novel to become a classic film, but that's what happened in No Country for Old Men. Cormac's few perfect words on the big screen worked. However, it is when as a reader we encounter McCarthy's words on the page that they become truly transformative, their most beguiling and their most challenging. His novels are sometimes bleak, often brutal and occasionally even hilarious. The scene with the violated watermelons in Suttree will curl your eyelashes.

The world is all the poorer when a great artist dies, as we won't be gifted any more of their art. Thankfully, Cormac recently put out two new works, and we can always revisit his earlier work, which is what I intend to do. If you haven't yet encountered Cormac McCarthy's work, find a nice sunny spot when you're feeling okay with the world, dive in slowly and start swimming. I don't know who the world's greatest living writer is right now—I'll keep reading until I find them—but I'm sad that it's no longer Cormac McCarthy. Vale, Cormac McCarthy, and thank you, sir.