Trying to take it all in, I felt both fascinated and overwhelmed. It seemed almost inconceivable that an author who produced 12 novels, two plays and five screenplays had also found the time, energy and brainpower to master architecture, woodworking, stonemasonry and a wide range of intellectual disciplines. Some of his math books were nearly all equations.

Then we found an intricate drawing he’d made for an engine modification to one of his cars, and another showing how to rifle a gun barrel with hand tools. We found dozens of well-thumbed engine repair manuals and auto mechanic’s tools in the outbuildings, and learned that he could disassemble, reassemble and redesign an engine to increase its horsepower. Then I learned he had an eidetic memory and could remember nearly everything he had read or heard, including the lyrics to thousands of songs. McCarthy was starting to seem like a man whose talents and intelligence were without limits, yet he lived in a hoarder’s shambles and couldn’t stop buying nonstick skillets and fruit bowls.