In Episode 108 of the Good Scribes Only Podcast, hosts Daniel Breyer and Jeremy Streich discuss Cormac McCarthy’s The Passenger, a complex novel that blends philosophical musings, fragmented storytelling, and deep-sea mysteries. Set in 1980, the book follows Bobby Western, a salvage diver and former physicist, as he grapples with the death of his sister, Alicia, and the unresolved questions haunting his life.
The Passenger is part of McCarthy’s final two-book series, released alongside Stella Maris, which focuses on Alicia’s perspective. The novel explores themes of grief, identity, insanity, and the philosophical limits of knowledge.
Bobby Western’s life unravels when he is hired to investigate a plane crash where nine bodies are recovered but a tenth passenger is missing, along with the black box. The mystery quickly becomes secondary, however, as Western finds himself hounded by shadowy government agents, cut off from his finances, and forced to question his own sanity.
The real story lies in Bobby’s grief over Alicia’s suicide. Their complicated relationship—suggested to have crossed familial boundaries emotionally if not physically—drives much of his existential struggle.
“Bobby’s on the run from forces he can’t name. Whether it’s the government or his own conscience, he’s fighting ghosts,” Daniel explains.
Much of the novel is about Bobby trying to preserve his sister’s memory even as it fades. By the end of the book, he admits to himself that he has forgotten her face, a metaphor for how memory can never truly preserve the past.
Jeremy points out the haunting nature of this struggle:
“It’s about how we’re constantly trying to hold on to the people we love, but they slip away from us, even when they’re alive.”
Alicia, who was treated for schizophrenia, appears throughout the book in flashbacks where she is haunted by hallucinations—particularly a figure known as “the kid.” This deformed, circus-like character spouts philosophical nonsense and taunts her with visions of an absurd reality.
Interestingly, Bobby begins to experience some of Alicia’s hallucinations himself, blurring the line between reality and madness. Is he losing his mind, or is he merely being confronted by a deeper truth?
“The kid is a stand-in for everything Bobby can’t accept about the world,” Daniel notes. “Maybe madness isn’t delusion—maybe it’s seeing too much of what’s real.”
Throughout the novel, McCarthy critiques the arrogance of science, philosophy, and human systems of understanding. Despite his scientific background, Bobby feels utterly lost in a world governed by forces he can’t comprehend.
“For all the knowledge Bobby has, he still can’t figure out what truly matters,” Jeremy observes. “It’s like McCarthy is saying that knowledge without meaning is a dead end.”
The book also alludes to McCarthy’s fascination with the unknowable, echoing sentiments from Blood Meridian about how human understanding is always limited by its own perception.
One of the more chilling aspects of The Passenger is Bobby’s struggle against nameless bureaucratic forces. His bank account is frozen, his belongings tampered with, and his very identity called into question.
“McCarthy’s saying something about modern life—how systems of power can crush us without us ever understanding why,” Daniel explains.
Jeremy points out that while Bobby is running from external forces, his true battle is internal—trying to reconcile his grief, his fractured identity, and his own intellectual limits.
McCarthy’s novel is ambitious, messy, and occasionally frustrating. But that’s precisely what makes it so compelling. It’s less about solving the mystery of the missing passenger and more about understanding how we try—and fail—to make sense of the world.
“It’s a book that dares to leave you feeling unresolved,” Jeremy concludes. “And that’s its greatest strength.”
For a deeper discussion on The Passenger and McCarthy’s signature style, tune in to Episode 108 of the Good Scribes Only Podcast.
