The tale follows a washed-up, one-hit writer on a journey to Mexico with an elderly bandit who hopes to obtain forgiveness from the senorita he abandoned years before.
The unlikely pair travel by rail, then river, then car, in an effort to shake a lawman who has picked up their trail. (It's a Western; can you tell?) My absolute favorite piece of dialogue is when the writer rebuffs his newly repentant friend's request to baptize him in a river: " Please, no. The Almighty's a mystery to me. I daydream in church, when I even go. Doubt is my usual condition! I'm not qualified for this."
I love that.
My head is absolutely spinning with all the fiction I've read lately, and although I've started the highly recommended The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, I need to allow the fiction haze to clear. Plus, it's really unfair to read anything so soon after The Road; nothing compares.
Of course, a self-imposed hiatus from fiction won't deter me from continuing to listen with Miss M and Boy Wonder to the audio version of The Tale of Desperaux, a truly odd fairy tale winningly told by Graeme Malcome. If you haven't yet heard it, you must. It's so good, in fact, that we may spend some time enjoying it in our parked car this evening.