All the Pretty Horses opens with visual imagery, highlighting the movement of a candle’s flame and its reflection in the window of John Grady's home, where his grandfather's funeral is being held:
The candle flame and the image of the candleflame caught in the pierglass twisted and righted when he entered the hall and again when he shut the door.
The dual flame of the candle seems to represent the uncertainty John Grady already faces in the novel between romantic ideals and reality. He notices his grandfather’s casket hairstyle is one the man never would have chosen for himself, a discrepancy between what John Grady believes should happen clashing with what is actually happening. The candleflame’s reflection and the candleflame are different, just like John Grady's idea of his grandfather and the actuality of his grandfather's appearance in death.
Additionally, as John Grady enters the house, he "presse[s] his thumbprint in the warm wax" left by the burning candle. Though reality and romantic fantasies are not compatible with each other, it appears that John Grady hopes to affect both with human will—in this case, by modifying the candle with his own hands. Disturbed by the distance between his interior life and reality, John Grady takes it upon himself to change both. It seems as if he finds comfort in the knowledge that his actions have real effects—even a seemingly insignificant willful intervention gives him a tiny amount of control over the situation.
In Part 1, the narrator uses imagery and a simile to describe Blevins’s sorry condition after he’s lost his clothes and some Mexican men try to buy him as a slave:
The boy’s bony legs were pale in the firelight and coated with road dust and bits of chaff that had stuck to the lard. The drawers he wore were baggy and dirty and he did indeed look like some sad and ill used serf or worse.
The image of Blevins's raggedy clothes and "bony legs [...] pale in the firelight," as well as the simile of looking “like some sad and ill used serf or worse” drive home how forlorn and pathetic Blevins looks. He is so downtrodden that he looks like a "serf," a medieval laborer who is bound to serve a landowner. This description is especially fitting since, disturbingly, some Mexican men that Blevins, John Grady, and Rawlins encountered just offered to purchase Blevins as a slave (a proposition that John Grady refused to entertain). Blevins's destitute state and vulnerability speak to the difficult physical conditions of a rider’s life out West, especially for someone as young and defenseless as Blevins. Comparing Blevins to a serf, someone who lacks freedom, is an especially ironic simile, since the boys have viewed Mexico as symbolic of total freedom, a place where they can cast off their problems and pursue another life.
The description of Blevins in this passage shatters any romanticized impressions of border country or life as a runaway. Adventures in Mexico seem to be plagued by the very same problems as those in the United States, and vulnerable people are still vulnerable. Blevins is no different in Mexico than he is in the United States: he is still a young boy from a difficult home, in need of someone to protect him.
The narrator uses imagery to introduce the hacienda to the reader in Part 2, highlighting especially its beauty and biodiversity:
[The hacienda] was well watered with natural springs and clear streams and dotted with marshes and shallow lakes or lagunas. In the lakes and in the streams were species of fish not known elsewhere on earth and birds and lizards and other forms of life as well all long relict here for the desert stretched away on every side.
Focusing on the plenty and uniqueness of the hacienda’s resources offers a romanticized picture of Mexico—a place with country unlike anywhere else on Earth, with the endemic fish, birds, and lizards to prove it. It seems that all a person could ever want exists on this parcel of land. John Grady's first impression of the hacienda is favorable and romantic.
However, this vision of the hacienda is superficial. Despite its appealing appearance, the hacienda will bring hardship for John Grady and his companions (in Rawlins's case, it will even bring death). John Grady and Rawlins's initial perception of beauty on the hacienda contrasts with the extreme violence that the boys will experience and witness in Mexico. The imagery of this section thus emphasizes the need to be discerning when exposed to things that seem too good to be true, and to not let oneself be too enthralled by beauty or romantic ideals.
After Rawlins and John Grady are taken to prison and find out Blevins has killed three men in Part 3, John Grady had an idyllic dream about horses in the countryside. The narrator uses imagery to emphasize the tranquility of the dream:
That night he dreamt of horses in a field on a high plain where the spring rains had brought up the grass and the wild-flowers out of the ground and the flowers ran all blue and yellow far as the eye could see and in the dream he was among the horses running […] they moved all of them in a resonance that was like a music among them and they were none of them afraid horse nor colt nor mare and they ran in that resonance which is the world itself and which cannot be spoken but only praised.
Everything on the dream mesa appears to be peaceful and beautiful. The visual imagery of the "flowers [running] all blue and yellow" and the auditory imagery of the horses "mov[ing] all of them in a resonance that was like music" make the landscape seem almost heavenly, aligning with John Grady's former romanticized view of the Mexican West. However, given the dire circumstances that have befallen the boys, it is clear that this romantic dream is nothing more than an escapist fantasy. The real West is full of violence, betrayal, and confusion. Even the most vivid, tranquil dream cannot combat the violent predicament John Grady finds himself in.
The very end of All the Pretty Horses contains visual imagery and simile. The vivid description of a lone bull parallels John Grady's prior suffering in the novel:
There were few cattle in that country because it was barren country indeed yet he came at evening upon a solitary bull rolling in the dust against the bloodred sunset like an animal in sacrificial torment. The bloodred dust blew down out of the sun. He touched the horse with his heels and rode on.
The simile comparing the bull to "an animal in sacrificial torment” likens the creature to John Grady. The bull is tortured and lonely, much like John Grady has been, both by his own choices and the cruelty of others. Furthermore, the images of the "bloodred sunset" and "bloodred dust" convey dryness, desolation, and even violence, as the desert landscape is explicitly linked to blood. The desolate and rather unsettling setting is fitting, considering that John Grady is alone and unmoored following Abuela's death.
Despite the somber and disturbing image of the bull, the novel ends with a feeling of hope: John Grady rides on past the bull, implying that he will be able to move on from the violence and loss he endured in Mexico. All the Pretty Horses is a coming-of-age novel in which John Grady learns to witness suffering, experience it, and grow. At the conclusion of the novel, he can finally face the bull in its anguish without pretending it is a dream and choose to keep moving forward.