The Road by Cormac McCarthy left me devastated and depressed, but in a way that was acceptable. It was a horror story of what may come without the creepy crawlies and bogeymen.
I had the pleasure (?) to read this story not knowing a single thing about it. I had read no synopsis, nor had I heard anything specific about it from any friends or colleagues. I had simply heard of it often enough to know it was a worthy read.
And boy, was it! At first it seemed to move at a slow pace, but I was intrigued by the language and style of it. I had never read anything written quite like this before. McCarthy's lack of quotation marks and non-use of names had me reading whenever I got a chance. I couldn't put it down. Literally. I finished a good chunk of it in the first sitting and I was itching to pick it up again and disappointed each night when I couldn't keep myself awake long enough to read more.
The horrors in the book weren't so much horrifying as chilling. The "bad guys" were never explained in any manner besides being bad guys. The good guys did some gruesome things, but never as bad as the bad guys. The good guys did what they had to in order to get by, but the bad guys did terrible things to children and anything that crossed their paths. Or so it would seem from the brief conversations between the man and the son. No explanation was ever given for why the world was the way it was. No explanation of why the good guys who carried the fire were going down south except for the fact they wanted to keep warm. Not even any real explanation as to when this apocalypse came to be.
Lately I seem to have fallen into a rut of reading books that are depressing. I've read books from the minds of serial killers, first time killers, people trying to escape Big Brother, and others that left me feeling down-right depressed. This book trumped all those. It addressed issues I never would have thought of on my own. What would you do if you had a child in a time where there was no food or shelter for anyone? Where the bad guys were constantly after you? Where there was no break from the cold? Where the life you once knew would never be again? Where you had stories you could share from your childhood with your child but he would never understand such happiness and ease? What would anyone do? Would you be a good guy? Or a bad guy?
