Guy — who actually goes by "Vincenzo Barney," which some have pointed out sounds like a Pynchon character, but reminds me most of Bad Monkey's Israel O'Peele — gets an exclusive interview with Cormac McCarthy's muse. McCarthy met her when he was in his 40s and she was a 16 yr old runaway. He took her to Mexico, believing the FBI was after them (maybe it was?), and then wrote pieces of her personality and story into characters in novel after novel.

She does sound interesting.

But you have to read the article to see how wildly out of control the writing is — and how it could not be more different from McCarthy's style. For example, the author encounters weather:

It’s monsoon season, and lightning bobs and weaves in the corner of your eyes all day like floaters. There are three separate storms to the south, delicately wind-tilted on the horizon. Lightning races them in a stitchless thread, and to the north rain shimmers through the sheerest rainbow, stamped perfectly horizontal against the mountains like the execution line on a document.

. . .

Two eyes are not sufficient for a sunset in the West. That’s because there is more than one sunset, more than can be seen in a single field of vision. After a monsoon, the sky is Sistine. To the west, lightning races the tousled embroidery of clouds in pink gilt. Turning on my heels, there are Iliads and Edens of violet cloudwork parted by the slimmest blue streamlets of sky. Soon the mountains will be darkened and skimmed of all their reddened lilac, and they will stand like glowing geometry against the sunset’s final yellow. It is all daubed in a nimbus around the muse, like a painting that is still wet, still open to being blended.