The dialogue dashes are a real problem in Spanish.

Here's a technical thing which nobody who reads only in English has to think about. McCarthy uses no quotation marks. In English that's a mild strangeness, a slight blurring of where speech starts, and you adjust in about a page. Spanish marks dialogue with a raya, a dash at the start of the line, and it's structural rather than decorative. Luis Murillo Fort has to decide whether to reproduce the absence, which makes Spanish prose look broken, or to restore the dashes, which quietly repairs something the author deliberately damaged. He goes mostly with the absence. It's the braver choice and it makes the Spanish harder to read than the English, which I'd argue is a failure of equivalence even though every individual decision is defensible. How much does this bother you? It depends of how much you believe punctuation is part of the writing. I think it's most of it.

The book itself. Grey, cold, ash, the cart, the two of them. I finished it at four in the madrugada because I couldn't have gone to sleep in the middle, and then I couldn't sleep anyway.

Seven. It's very well made and it does exactly one thing, at length, without variation, and by the last third I had stopped being frightened and started being managed. The man's love for the boy is real. The world around them is a machine for producing that love and nothing else lives in it.

I gave my copy to a colleague who wanted to know if it was as bleak as people say. It is. She hasn't mentioned it since.