The Road

FROM THE BLURB

Jam-packed with information on exploring the great wide world and just having fun, the award-winning author Cormac McCarthy and his young son have left no stone unturned in their search for the very best adventures and attractions for families heading to the coast for that trip of a lifetime. The Road is brim-full of advice for fun activities providing the perfect balance of practical information and inspirational ideas. All the best activities not forgetting bike rides and big days out are captured in this great guide along with all the best places to stay (underground bunkers are a must!) Different modes of travel are addressed, the pros and cons of kids' clubs and how to get good deals if you are on a tight budget. There is vital information on what to do if anything goes wrong, how to avoid potential problems before you leave and what to do if you're not happy with your holiday. If you're looking for a great adventure that they will remember for years The Road will definitely inspire you.

The guide is divided into four sections

Cannibals
Disease
Horror
Death

English review at the bottom

n  "En esta carretera no hay interlocutores de Dios. Se han ido y me han dejado aquí sólo y se han llevado consigo el mundo"n

¿Hay algo que quede cuando el sol se ha apagado? ¿Esperanza cuando todo se ha ido a la mierda? ¿Existe algo por lo que luchar? Uno de los mundos más deprimentes que he visto y una atmósfera de completa desolación es lo que McCarthy presenta en este libro.

Este mundo es desolador, no puede ser cambiado pero ha cambiado a todos los que lo habitan. El autor se vale de una serie de recursos para hacerlo sentir de esa manera tales como pocos [y cortos] diálogos y párrafos creados por varias frases más que por una narración continúa, además del desarrollo de los personajes, especialmente de "el niño", es entendible y doloroso, pero ellos mismo hacen que la desolación sea mayor al presentarse como desconocidos, personas anónimas cuyo categoría es la única representación de lo que son: ya no son seres humanos, sólo una especie más de distinta edad, pasando esto no sólo con los protagonistas, sino con todos los habitantes de este mundo: La naturaleza de los hombres se aleja de la humanidad y se vuelve simplemente cruda, el instinto es más necesario que la piedad.

n  "Donde los hombres no pueden vivir a los dioses no les va mucho mejor"n

Todo el libro se desarrolla de manera lineal, en ocasiones repetitiva, debido a que son sólo dos personajes durante casi toda la historia, pero las variaciones que se fueron integrantes, Ely, son excelentes, si bien no te habla más del mundo si te hace entender a sus habitantes...y pensar "Sí yo estuviera en esa situación ¿sería de los buenos?".

n  "Tiempo prestado y mundo prestado y ojos prestados con que llorarlo"n

¿Lo recomendaría? Si, pero se que a muchas personas puede no gustarles, consta principalmente de descripciones y tiene un ritmo muy mesurado, inclusive los momentos más intensos carecen de rapidez (que no de tensión) y es fácil que te aburra si esperas que todo, o la mayor parte, del tiempo estén batallando con los peligros del lugar (cosa que no sucede), además de que mucho tiene que ver con la interacción de "el hombre" y "el niño", algunos recuerdos y lo árido del paisaje.

n  "Los días se sucedían penosamente sin cuenta ni calendario"n

_________________________________________

n  "On this road there are no godspoke men. They are gone and I am left and they have taken with them the world."n

Is there anything left when the sun has gone out? Hope when everything has gone to shit? Is there anything to fight for? This book presents one of the most depressing worlds I have ever seen, and the atmosphere of desolation that McCarthy managed to create is impressive.

This world is desolate, it cannot be changed, but it has changed all who inhabit it. The author employs a series of resources to convey that feeling, such as sparse [and brief] dialogues and paragraphs crafted from multiple sentences instead of a continuous narrative. Furthermore, the character development, especially that of "the child," is understandable and painful, but they themselves contribute to heightening the desolation by presenting themselves as strangers, anonymous individuals whose only category is the representation of what they have become: no longer human beings, but just another species striving to survive, signifying the loss of the veil of superiority once associated with humanity. This occurs not only with the protagonists but with all the inhabitants of this world. Human nature drifts away from humanity and becomes simply raw; instinct is more necessary than pity.

"n  Where men can't live, gods fare no better.n"

The whole book is developed in a linear way, sometimes repetitive, because there are only two characters for most of the story. However, the significant variations, such as Ely, are excellent. Even when they don't speak about the world, they make you empathize with its inhabitants and make you think, "If I were in that situation, would I be good?"

"n  Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.n"

Would I recommend it? Yes, but I know that many people may not like it. It mainly consists of descriptions and has a very measured pace. Even the most intense moments lack speed (not tension), and it is easy to get bored if you expect them to be constantly struggling with the dangers of the place (which doesn't happen). A lot has to do with the interaction between "the man" and "the boy," some memories, and the arid landscape.

"n  As for me, my only hope is for eternal nothingness, and I hope it with all my heart.n"

The road is a promise.

A father and a son, survivors of an anonymous apocalypse, hold on to that promise. Cormac McCarthy follows them closely on their march through barren wastelands, dead forests and decaying towns. The footsteps they leave in the ubiquitous dust are swept away by the cold ashen breath of the grey earth. Whatever gets left behind ceases to exist.

The promise is brittle. Hold on to it too tightly, dream of it too violently, and both the promise and the road will turn to dust, leaving you in a desert with nowhere to go.

The father and his son know this in their hearts. Yet they go on, together, carrying the fire ever southwards. Every step they take is a rebellion against a world turned cold and dry.

On a planet that no longer indulges the luxury of life, the road of stubborn survival only knows one destination. Defiantly, a father and a son, scavengers of canned goods and memories, hold the fire against the indifferent skies and hold on to each other.

Ssh. It'll be okay.

There are some books which literally sweep you of your feet and leave you gasping for breath. As one grows older and the reading palate more jaded, the chance of finding such a book becomes rarer and rarer; so the actual discovery of one is all the more delightful.

The Road by Cormac McCarthy is such a book.

By all means, the story ought to have been a cliche: it explores the hackneyed dystopic theme of a group of people moving across a blasted landscape. The fact that it turns out to be one of the most powerful reading experiences instead, is due to McCarthy's narrative power, and the story's focus on the father-son bond rather than the horrors of the road.

The unnamed protagonists are moving south across an America of the future in search of warmth and food; a land which has been destroyed by a massive cataclysm which is never described. Some kind of deflagration is suggested (maybe nuclear). There are no animals left, and dead and charred trees dot the landscape. The sun is seldom seen, and it rains ash almost constantly. Nightmare people populate this nightmare landscape: cannibals who keep people penned up in basements for meat and roast infants on spits.

The strength of the novel is that most of this information is incidental. McCarthy does not dwell on the horrors, but mentions them in passing and moves ahead. The focus is always on the man and the boy, and their stubborn will to survive.

The cataclysm has occurred suddenly: the man remembers a time when everything was "normal" (in our everyday sense of the word). For the boy, this is "normal". Both father and son have adapted to their dismal environment seamlessly. Their lives are reduced to the basics of any living organism: food, shelter and the avoidance of death. As the story unfolds, we find the man slowly moving towards an animalistic state of existence; all vestiges of altruism, of “humanity”, are stripped away. He will do anything to survive, even if he destroys other human beings in the process. The only person he cares about, other than himself, is his son.

As the story moves towards its resolution, the mood of quiet desperation mounts uncontrollably, reaching a crescendo on the father's death: however, the author does not let us down. The small flame of hope kept alight throughout the novel is left burning at the end, so that The Road ultimately proves redemptive.

There are no chapters in this novel. It is written in short sections, and perfectly parallels the endless procession of nights and days of the journey. The dialogue is staccato, repetitive and Hemingway-esque. I found McCarthy's signature way of writing without punctuation apt for the subject matter. The many dialogues between father and son, mostly consisting of the word “okay” repeated many times (when things are definitely not “okay”-nice bit of tragic irony here) revolve around a single theme: the father assuring the son that they are not going to die, and they will find the “good” people. Instead of being boring, the repeated theme is strangely effective.

The man’s sense of nostalgia for a time irrevocably lost and his love for his son comes across with an emotional force which is almost painful. In fact, the child is almost deified. Consider the following passage (which is sheer poetry):

In the morning they came up out of the ravine and took to the road again. He’d carved the boy a flute from a piece of roadside cane and he took it from his coat and gave it to him. The boy took it wordlessly. After a while he fell back and after a while the man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from the ashes of its ruin. The man turned and looked back at him. He was lost in concentration. The man thought he seemed some sad and solitary changeling child announcing the arrival of a travelling spectacle in shire and village who does not know that behind him the players have all been carried off by wolves.

The boy takes on mythical overtones here (Krishna with his flute or Pan with his pipes): a remnant of a pastoral idyll which has been sadly burnt away. We know instinctively that the child will survive. Because, as the man says in his dying speech, he is the carrier of the fire…

You’re going to be okay, Papa. You have to.

No I’m not. Keep the gun with you at all times. You need to find good guys but you can’t take any chances. No chances. Do you hear?

I want to be with you.

You cant.

Please.

You cant. You have to carry the fire.

Is it real? The fire?

Yes it is.

Where is it? I dont know where it is.

Yes you do. It’s inside you. It was always there. I can see it.

This is the true Promethean fire, burning forever inside mankind’s heart, even while suffering eternal punishment at the behest of gods. This is the fire which is passed down from generation to generation, igniting the mind of the scientist, the artist, the writer and the revolutionary. As long as one knows one has passed it on, one can die peacefully.

This novel is an emotional onslaught which will rip you apart, will shatter your world so that it can never be reassembled together in the same way again (I was in tears by the end). Very highly recommended.

یاد یه تیکه ی این کتاب افتادم که به حال و روزمون میخوره

n  

شجاعانه‌ترین کاری که کردی چی بود؟
روی زمین خون تف کرد و گفت: این که امروز صبح از رختخواب بیرون اومدم

n

آپدیت برای شهریور و مهر 1401:
این نقل قول برای حال و روز همیشه‌ی ما بوده
در واقع کل فضای این کتاب حال و روز همیشه‌ی ما بوده
امیدوارم یه روز بیام آپدیت کنم و بگم دیگه از رختخواب بیرون اومدن نیاز به شجاعت نداره

There are very few authors whose entire works I've personally sought out. Cormac McCarthy is one such gem. One of the world's greatest living writers, his skill is something to behold. His books are dark, understated, well-crafted, and void of the bullshit that stinks up the work of so many other writers. Cormac is compelling through and through, regardless of what story he is telling.

It should be said that McCarthy isn’t the easiest author to read sometimes. He’s an immeasurable talent who plays by his own rules of writing, breaking countless others as he does his thing. But ‘The Road’ is arguably his most accessible work, and a hell of a piece of speculative fiction. The prose is minimal and frighteningly effective, weaving a bleak world with all the right words and perfect pacing. It’s so sparse and fluid; yet holds surprising warmth in a world created out of coldness and indifference. It’s mastery more easily digestible than some of his prior works.

*This book was one of my selections in my '5 Books That Made Me A Better Writer' piece. See which others I picked:

http://jkentmessum.com/the-5-books-th...

A man and his young son are traveling along a highway, hoping to get far enough south to avoid the onslaught of winter. It is a post apocalyptic landscape, heavy with ash, in which you can hear the absence of birds chirping or bugs buzzing. The language is remarkable. I was reminded of Thomas Hardy for beauty of language, but it is a different sort of beauty. McCarthy uses short declaratives, as if even language was short of breath in the devastation, and terrorizes generations of elementary school english teachers by tossing off verbless phrases as sentences (p 27 - A river far below.) He is effective in turning nouns into verbs, as on p4 – “when it was light enough to use the binoculars he glassed the valley below.” Forgetting the content of the narrative this is a masterwork of style. I was deeply moved by not only the technical skill with which he molds language to his purpose, but the effective emotional impact of the work. This is a book to read slowly, to savor, not one to speed through to hasten ingestion of the plot. There are events that are exceedingly grim in this, focusing on despair, suicide, cannibalism. Yet the love of the father for his son is palpable and despite the omnipresent gray ash, there remain slivers of hope. Highly recommended, but this is not a book for those with a weak stomach.

Stark, bleak and beautifully written.



Sort of depressing, but if you're in the correct mood, this can also be very moving.