Woof. I will always be enamored by McCarthy's writing style. No quotations, leaving you to guess (pay attention) who is talking, no apostrophes for "not" contractions, so much vocabulary, so many references.
It's glorious.
However.
This book. It is both bizarre stream of consciousness and conversation and wonderfully heartbreaking depiction of someone struggling with heritage and mental illness (with a big ol' dose of incestuous feelings). 
It's. Challenging. Interesting. Oddly compelling.