Narrated by the deceased Arc, McDaniel’s novel is by turns stark and poetic, a bleak and solemn elegy to lives that in another place and time might have been lived on the beautiful side. It’s also a tale of a nation unraveling, drowning in rivers of hopelessness and drug addiction.
Had the author’s note left unspecified the many liberties taken, readers could easily assume this was a true-crime biography. Historical fiction or otherwise, this account of the tragic death of an inhabitant of gay Hollywood certainly captivates.
Set in the early 2010s, prior to the #MeToo era, Bausch’s novel seems to be saying something about predatory men, but it’s unclear where he stands on the subject, and there is no real payoff to that story thread.
The Passenger is proof that McCarthy still has plenty in the tank, and if it doesn’t quite rise to the heights of his finest work, it’s certainly his strangest. It’s a thrill to find the author still making such beguiling moves.