It reminded me a little of Shane, the story of a killer trying to leave behind his past. The reasons for his being hunted after so many years were never made clear. The main character's abilities were highly exagerated - a 50 year old man spends days on strenuous hike, than runs 40 miles (!) in 6 hours and has enough left to take on all the bad guys single handed.

While agreeing in the main with the previous reviewer, I have struggled with his/her last statement: of which of William Faulkner's eternal verities is this book 'built' (and why, for that matter, was Faulkner brought into it in the first place?)? After considering it for some time, it occurred to me that perhaps it was 'truth' that was being to referred to, truth in the sense of applied and deeply committed attention, of profound and unflinching gaze, of burning away and boiling down. The book, and my god we need more like it, is a kind of breviary of tough questions, questions asked and answered. Mr. Faulkner and his commendable ideas on the way it must be done aside, I highly, highly recommend it.

I fully support and subscribe to the views eloquently expressed by John Haynes in the first review in this section. However, there are a couple aspects of this terrific novel I'd like to emphasize. One of which is the extraordinarily achieved prose with which the book is chiseled. Clearly we are dealing here with a craftsman in possesion of considerable powers -- the complex, and William Gasper is one complex character, is rendered with heartstopping clarity and compression, and structurally this book, constructed as efficiently as the rifle Gasper carries, is a dream. For those out there still interested in quality bookmaking, it is worth signalling that The Man Who Walked to the Moon is also, in addition to being a fine and rare work of art, a handsome object. In conclusion, I disagree with the reader who said Mr. McCord's book is devoid of W.F.'s eternal verities -- it seems to me almost entirely built of them.