Remembering Cormac McCarthy: 1933-2023. The background of his last interview, with highlights from that dialogue.

The world has lost a great writer. Cormac McCarthy was a lover of science & under difficult conditions last year we arranged what turned out to be his last interview to demonstrate that fact.

Cormac McCarthy’s reflections on the human condition were often gut wrenching, one of the things that made him such a compelling writer. Three days ago I was shocked and saddened to learn of the death of my good friend. Cormac was a unique novelist, but what many may not be aware of was the fact that he was also a unique human being. While he was a literary icon for much of his life, Cormac nevertheless often stated, to me and others, that his chief interest was science.

Cormac moved to Santa Fe specifically to live close to the Santa Fe Institute, a science think tank that Cormac’s good friend, the Nobel Prizewinning physicist Murray Gell Mann had helped establish. He spent most days there, and had an office, attended the scientific lectures, and carrying out conversations with the scientists in residence.

The Santa Fe Institute was where I first met Cormac. Around the time I was being recruited as a possible new director for the Institute, and spent a few days there a few times, as well as giving lectures. I remember meeting Cormac in the lunch room, where he was getting some coffee. I was shocked the first time I saw him as I hadn’t expected to run into him there. After some initial conversation, I asked him how, as a writer of such dark fiction, he maintained such a chipper demeanor—something that had surprised me as we were talking. His answer has stayed with me ever since: “I’m a pessimist… but that is no reason to be gloomy!”. I think that sentence has helped me through many potentially depressing times since then, and I take it as something of a mantra.

Cormac once told me he only reads science, not literature, although given his extensive knowledge of literature I found it, and still find it, hard to believe. But what was clear was that he did read science, digested it, and understood it with a level of detail that few other laypeople could muster. When discussing the details of particle physics with him, for example, there are times when I forgot he wasn’t a physicist.

Cormac was also a private person, who was notorious for not wanting to be interviewed. I viewed it as a great and generous gift that he agreed to appear with me not just once, but three separate times on camera. It was a sign of trust and friendship that I will never forget.

Cormac graced me with another gift on two occasions. After reading the hardcover of my scientific biography of Richard Feynman, Quantum Man, Cormac called me and said: “I think the book is almost perfect. Would you let me copyedit the paperback and make it perfect?”. Needless to say, I agreed, even after he added: “One requirement: I will remove all exclamation marks and semi-colons. There is no place in English literature for either.”. Later, when the paperback appeared, on the cover page I was proud to see the acknowledgement; Copyedited by Cormac McCarthy. I remember the New York Times found out about it and wrote a short piece called: Cormac McCarthy, Quantum Copyeditor.

And still later, when my book, The Greatest Story Ever Told..So Far appeared, Cormac asked for a copy of the manuscript, and returned it weeks later with his characteristic handwritten edits on almost every page. As he had with the earlier edit, he reminded me not to send the original to my editor, explaining that his old typewriter had sold for a lot of money. I was a kind gesture but I couldn’t imagine parting with those marked up pages then, or now for that matter. Maybe someday, if I need to clean out my study…

For years I had been asking Cormac if we could do a podcast together, but he always politely declined. Around the time I knew his new books would be appearing, I suggested that myself and my colleague, filmmaker Gus Holwerda, fly down and film a dialogue at his home in Santa Fe. I told him that I hadn’t seen him in some time, and it would be an opportunity for us to spend some time together in conversation. I am not sure why he agreed, but he did.

I knew, when arranging the interview, that it would be difficult. Cormac is, in the best of times, terse, and tends to give one word, or one line answers to questions and then refuse to say more, or even further qualify his statements even after further questioning. The day we arrived, we only had 6 hours in Santa Fe, as I had to be back for an Origins Event in Phoenix later that week. We arrived at his house, after a short stop to buy some copies of the new book that he would sign, and he announced that we were going to leave shortly for lunch—something that was not on the original schedule.

Cormac had aged considerably since our last meeting, had he walked with a cane and we assisted him to his car, along with a local Santa Fe physicist, Fred Cooper, who had befriended him, and drove to lunch, which was organized I think so we could see his son John. That was a treat that I suppose he had intended, because I had last met John a decade earlier, when he was only 13 or so, when Cormac and Werner Herzog attended an event we all did together in Phoenix—both of these men shared a profound interest in science. I remember how much fun we had talking, and how Cormac and Werner spent the day like two kids in a candy store sharing thoughts about the world with each other. I remember how my wife and John hit it off. I was very pleased to see John again, now a grown man, and to learn that he still had fond memories of that day.

My concern however, was how tired Cormac might be after lunch, during which he ordered a full meal and drank a margarita. It was clear that when we returned back home, with only a couple of hours of clear sunlight left, that our discussion was going to be a challenge. Cormac had said in advance that he didn’t want to discuss writing or literature, just science, but I was able to use his new book, The Passenger, as a starting point for a number of questions.

I do wish we had had more time, and that we had started earlier in the day. While some who watched the discussion felt I didn’t give him enough time to elaborate on his thoughts, I knew from a great deal of experience that he wasn’t going to. I could have left long silences in the conversation, as my friend Werner Herzog probably would have done had he been filming a dialogue, but there were many ideas we had discussed at lunch that I knew both he and I wanted to get to.

There were other challenges. We didn’t have lights, and the bright sun shone in the room and kept moving across the couch where we were sitting, forcing us to periodically break to relocate. It was a difficult afternoon, but nevertheless one I will always remember. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, and as problematic as it was, it was also a privilege to give the world another glimpse into his mind.

As we parted, we left him on the couch, and walked to the front door. I remember both Gus and I looked in and saw his bedroom, with the ever-present typewriter located right next to the bed. We both agreed it would be a remarkable photo, but we also both agreed that it would be a violation of his privacy to take such a picture. Instead, I will always remember it vividly, as I will remember our last conversation.

The podcast that resulted was Cormac’s last interview. In honor of his passing we have edited it down to a series of highlights. I hope you enjoy those moments with a remarkable writer and human being, even as limited as they were. I think Cormac may have agreed to our discussion, even under the difficult conditions, because he knew it might be our last. It was yet another wonderful and generous gift from a man who the world knew in one way, and I another.  I was lucky to call him my friend, and honored to be able to share this with you here.

(Note: an excerpted version of this remembrance appeared in the Wall St. Journal online on June 15th)