Mr Toad and the Judge

An exchange with China Miéville on the relative merits of Kenneth Grahame and Cormac McCarthy

[I reproduce, with permission, a paragraph from a recent email from the good and generous China Miéville, followed by my reply (edited and amplified). I do this with some trepidation, since I express a few opinions there that run quite contrary to what seems at the moment to be a nearly overwhelming consensus on the work of the recently departed Cormac McCarthy. I suspect that in years to come, when much of the dust has cleared, that consensus will have somewhat dissipated and will have been succeeded by a more balanced appraisal of the record (as we have seen happen with so many other writers); but just now, while the freshly turned earth is still moist atop his coffin and literary journalists are elbowing one another out of the way in their rush to get to the microphone to proclaim their lifelong and undying devotion to the great man’s art, I am risking a certain degree of incredulity and even scorn (including some from friends and colleagues). Mind you, I would not be sorry to change my mind, should it ever happen, and I certainly do not expect any of my readers to be persuaded by me if they are disinclined to share my view. I ask only that no one try to convince me here that I am in error (unless, of course, either China or the mysterious Mr R— wishes to chime in).

And, as I hope scarcely needs saying, no one should try to dissuade me from my devotion to The Wind in the Willows, as that would only lead to what Catullus discreetly calls non bona dicta (before, naturally, going on indiscreetly to utter those dicta).

By the way, I know this is rather odd Christmas reading, but my writing schedule was interrupted this past week; our best laid schemes gang aft agley, as we all know. But isn’t it a fine thing to be able to insert references to both Catullus and Rabbie Burns in a single set of brackets?]