Audiobook Sample
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- Title: All the Pretty Horses
- Author: Cormac McCarthy
- Narrator: Frank Muller
- Length: 10:06:00
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 30/08/2013
- Publisher: Recorded Books
- Genre: Fiction & Literature, Western, Literary Fiction
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
The first time I heard Frank Muller’s gravel-and-honey voice narrate Cormac McCarthy’s “All the Pretty Horses”, I was driving through the Sonoran Desert at dusk. The fading light painted the saguaro cacti in silhouette, and as John Grady Cole crossed into Mexico, I felt that peculiar alchemy that happens when landscape, literature, and voice converge into something transcendent. It reminded me of those evenings in Oaxaca, listening to abuela’s stories – how the right narrator can make words feel like campfire embers, glowing long after they’re spoken.
McCarthy’s prose has always felt like landscape made language, and Muller’s narration honors that quality perfectly. His measured cadence captures the deliberate rhythm of cowboy speech – those thoughtful pauses between phrases that make you lean in closer. When John Grady says “I knew that if I didn’t leave then I never would,” Muller delivers it with the quiet conviction of someone who’s stood at that crossroads themselves. It’s this authenticity that makes the audiobook experience so immersive; you don’t just hear the story, you feel the saddle leather creak beneath you.
The novel’s exploration of borders – between nations, between adolescence and manhood, between the old West and modernity – resonates deeply with my travels through the American Southwest and northern Mexico. McCarthy’s descriptions of the landscape are so vivid you can taste the alkali dust, see the “bloodred sun” sinking behind the Sierra Madre. Muller enhances these sensory details, his voice deepening when describing the “black and twisted” shapes of mesquite trees at night, lightening slightly when evoking the “pale green” of new grass after rain. It’s a masterclass in how narration can elevate literary imagery.
What struck me most about this listening experience was how Muller handles McCarthy’s signature lack of quotation marks. Where this might confuse some readers on the page, Muller’s subtle vocal shifts between characters create perfect clarity. His Rawlins has a higher, quicker pitch than John Grady’s measured tones, and the Mexican characters each have distinct accents without veering into caricature. This approach makes the philosophical dialogues – about honor, violence, and fate – feel as natural as overheard campfire conversations.
The audiobook’s greatest strength might be how it handles McCarthy’s brutal romanticism. There’s a scene where John Grady breaks a wild horse that left me gripping my steering wheel, Muller’s voice rising in sync with the mustang’s resistance before settling into that beautiful moment of surrender. It mirrors the novel’s central tension – our struggle against forces we can’t control, whether they be societal changes or the wildness in our own hearts. Muller understands these rhythms instinctively, his pacing during action scenes making your pulse race, then slowing almost to stillness during meditative passages.
Some listeners might find McCarthy’s sparse punctuation challenging in audio format, though Muller’s skillful narration largely compensates. The only minor critique is that certain Spanish phrases could benefit from more precise pronunciation, though this hardly detracts from the overall excellence of the performance. At just over eight hours, it’s a relatively brief but profoundly rich listening experience – perfect for a long desert drive or quiet evening when you want to be transported.
Compared to other western audiobooks, this stands apart for its literary depth. Where “Lonesome Dove” (wonderfully narrated by Lee Horsley) embraces the genre’s expansive storytelling, and “Blood Meridian” (superbly read by Richard Poe) descends into mythic horror, “All the Pretty Horses” occupies a middle ground – it’s both a coming-of-age story and an elegy for a disappearing world. Muller’s narration honors this duality, finding both the toughness and tenderness in McCarthy’s vision.
For those new to McCarthy, this audiobook is an ideal introduction. The relatively straightforward narrative (compared to his more experimental works) combined with Muller’s accessible narration creates an inviting gateway. And for longtime fans, hearing this performance offers fresh revelations – I caught thematic connections to “The Road” and “No Country for Old Men” that I’d missed in print.
As someone who’s spent years documenting disappearing cultures and landscapes, I found particular poignancy in how this audiobook captures the novel’s central tension – our simultaneous longing for freedom and belonging. There’s a passage where John Grady watches vaqueros work cattle in the old style, knowing their way of life is fading, that made me think of the Oaxacan mezcaleros I’ve interviewed, their craft caught between tradition and commercialization. Muller reads these moments with such quiet reverence that they linger in your mind like half-remembered dreams.
May your journeys – both literary and literal – be filled with such moments of connection. Until next time, keep listening to the stories the wind carries.
Marcus Rivera
