Prior to his death, Cormac McCarthy was often called America’s greatest living writer. When the author of such books as Blood Meridian, All the Pretty Horses, The Road and No Country for Old Mendied in 2023 at 89 at his home in Santa Fe, a 64-year-old woman named Augusta Britt became an object of attention in the literary world. She’d been in the author’s life for decades, but McCarthy never revealed it, for reasons that would become obvious.
There’s an undeniable tawdry element to the story—the two ran away together to Mexico with a forged birth certificate—so when the possible villain’s a figure of McCarthy’s stature, it’s a big deal, as evidenced by the extreme length of the flowery Vanity Fair piece and the widespread controversy that followed in literary circles, and print and social media.
The reactions were polarized. There was the expected moral outrage over the age gap and “power dynamics.” Many characterized McCarthy as a predatory groomer. The author’s defenders cited Britt’s own fond account of their relationship. She credited McCarthy with providing emotional support, intellectual engagement, and stability. Britt maintained contact with the author for decades, viewing him as her “savior.” Glossing over her version of events is tantamount to denying her agency in order to further a particular agenda.
Barney was a major McCarthy fan. His writing reflected it, enraging many. They criticized him for relying on Britt’s narrative. He was supposed to go beyond her version and explore the predatory grooming angle. Barney’s detractors wanted a lecture from him, but he gave them straight reporting from his-related work free after the news came out to avoid profiting from his legacy
One theory was that Britt chose Barney because he was young and impressionable. Barney was a fan of Britt and McCarthy. He claimed that she, acting as the great writer’s muse, became one of the most significant and secret inspirations in literary history—more important than the bond between Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Vera and Vladimir Nabokov, and Dante and Beatrice.
Many accused McCarthy of statutory rape, but that can be an elusive crime to pin down. American states have various ages of consent, ranging from 16 to 18. At the time of the reported consummation, Britt was 17 in a state—Arizona—with an age of consent of 18, so the law could’ve conceivably come after the writer. But if the act had taken place in the three neighboring states with lower age of consent laws—Colorado, Nevada, and New Mexico—nothing illegal would’ve happened. Try to think of another criminal charge that works in such an arbitrary way. One could make the argument that the only thing the author did wrong was to choose the wrong venue for what Augusta Britt says was a positive experience.
The recent McCarthy detractors want to make the case that the author did something illegal and immoral. As for taking Britt to Mexico, they say that separating someone from their family is a standard part of the grooming process. But the Mexico trip happened right after Britt had told McCarthy that her father had put her in the hospital with a beating. The implication is that McCarthy should’ve let Britt stay with her father. How does that work for her?
Siobhan Brier Aguilar, a feminist writer who has a YouTube channel focused on literature, discussed the case in an episode that attracted 290,000 viewers. She mentioned the Mann Act, which Barney referred to several times in his article. This federal law (Chuck Berry was once prosecuted for it) states that it’s illegal to transport someone across state lines for the purposes of prostitution or other immoral activities. Her nonsensical conclusion: “So the Mann Act is trafficking. So let’s make it very clear. Cormac McCarthy sex trafficked an underage girl. If you have an issue with me, don’t take it up with me, take it up with lawmakers.”
What would federal “lawmakers” know about Cormac McCarthy’s possible criminal activities in Mexico? This tortured logic is desperate, suggesting that the facts alone aren’t sufficient to make the case against the author. McCarthy was never arrested for a violation of the Mann Act—which doesn’t pertain only to prostitution—nor is there any evidence that the police ever investigated him for this crime. It’s unlikely that Britt would’ve called the novelist her savior if he’d pimped her out south of the border.
Aguilar can’t really believe that Cormac McCarthy was a sex trafficker. She must think very little of her audience to expect them to believe he, although many of them do believe it. If she’d stuck to her grooming narrative she could’ve at least managed to not discredit herself. The novelist sent a number of erotic letters to Augusta Britt when she was 16 and he was in his mid-40s. This is unseemly behavior, as is the fact that it took years for him to tell her that he was married and that he had a son her age. That’s manipulative and fits in with the grooming pattern.
So the question remains—What behavioral standards should we hold our artists to? Siobhan Aguilar has an answer. Sounding like an earnest high school student, she says that “artists must obey the law.” Is it possible that she’s not familiar with the long list of great artists throughout history who didn’t obey laws?
If feminists want me to stop reading Cormac McCarthy, they’re going to have to be more convincing than Aguilar. I’ve read and re-read him for years, and will continue to do so. I have no interest in looking into the private lives of writers. What’s on the page is what matters.
