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.

Find all of my reviews at: http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/

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

This is another one of those “100 books you should read before you go to that big ol’ malt shop in the sky” that I attempt to read a couple of every year. For whatever reason there was a huge waiting list at the library and when it finally became my turn to ease on down The Road I discovered Jeff and The Hufflepuff were getting ready for a buddy read. Me being me, I immediately invited myself to join their party, but Jeff was all like . . .

n  n

Luckily I’m super strong (or he’s super weak – tomato/tomahto) so I was able to elbow my way right in to the cool kids table. Then I couldn’t stop myself from reading this book in like two hours and proved once again why no one should ever want to buddy up with me. I have a shame : (

The one perk of reading with me is you get Mitchell’s input when it comes to reviews. Jeff has already had the “full Mitchell experience” (if you know what I’m sayin’ *wink wink*) so he allowed Ashley temporary custody this go around – leaving me with Harvey Dent (get it, Two Face? because his face is in two different parts? Ha! I kill me!!!) as this review’s co-host . . .

n  n

What better friend to read a book about a lonely trek down a road through a deserted wasteland than a dude who looks like he might have been found on the side of the road in a deserted wasteland, right?

You’re probably beginning to wonder when I’m finally going to start talking about this book, huh? There’s not really much I can say. The Road is a love it or hate it kind of story. Obviously from my rating I fall into the love it category, but I can completely understand how it falls short for many. The setting is . . . well, the road – duh – that extends through a desolate post-apocalyptic 'Murica, but you don’t know how the world got to be that way. Tiny Easter Eggs are left to inform you that the story takes place in the near future, but again no definitive answer. The characters are minimally developed – I’m talking they don’t even have names. The writing is sparse, the situation bleak. And the road? As The Beatles once said, it’s long and winding . . . .

n  n

I sat down thinking I would read 50 pages and stop in order to stay on track with my buddies. I had no idea I wouldn’t be able to put this book down. I was drawn in immediately and couldn’t leave the world of the man and the boy until I turned the last page. I’m fairly certain I lost a couple of pounds from all the virtual walking too, so BONUS!

As I said, this is not a book for everyone – but if you’re looking to add to your Pulitzer Prize winners list or want your friends to believe that you are a super genius while they are reading crap, The Road is short and easy to get through. And if you have a phobia of quotation marks? McCarthy’s books might be the only books written especially for you : )

If you really want to be a cheater, apparently this is a movie too – but Viggo Mortensen like this . . .

n  n

equals ewww. I prefer this . . .

n  n

thank you very much.

"La raza humana está destinada a internarse más y más en la noche de los tiempos primitivos, hasta que vuelva a empezar su sangrante marcha hacia la nueva civilización."
Jack London, La peste escarlata

Cómo hacer para reseñar un libro como "La carretera"...
Hice un repaso por los distintos títulos de los libros que llevo leídos en tantos años y me cuesta mucho recordar uno que acarree tanto sufrimiento como éste.
Tal vez algún pasaje en las novelas de Dostoievski, como el final de "Humillados y ofendidos", pero no hay ningún libro que se le parezca y me atrevería a decir ni que se le acerque.
La historia que nos cuenta Cormac McCarthy es pura desolación, sufrimiento, miseria, hambre, frío y tristeza. Es angustiante, descorazonador, lúgubre y toda la travesía de este hombre con su hijo es un fiel retrato del amor incondicional de un padre ante la adversidad más dolorosa.
Las pocas ocasiones en que se topan con algo relativamente bueno, es decir, un poco de comida y cobijo, son efímeras. No pueden quedarse ni les alcanza.
Deben seguir avanzando por una interminable carretera rodeada de parajes yermos y barridos por lo que parecen los resabios de una hecatombe nuclear (el autor nunca nos revela qué fue lo que pasó realmente), poblada de cadáveres y de edificios en ruinas.
Da la sensación de que ambos vienen caminando desde hace meses sin rumbo fijo, guiados por las pocas hojas de un mapa sucio y rotoso, pero con la idea de llegar al mar, a la costa.
Este libro tiene un antecesor, que fue escrito por Jack London exactamente 96 años antes y que se llamó "La peste escarlata", en el que la humanidad, devastada por una plaga letal queda reducida a unos pocos seres humanos en todo el mundo.
En ese libro también un hombre, pero mucho más anciano, camina de la misma manera que los personajes de esta novela las rutas ferroviarias junto a su nieto y dos niños más, tratando de explicarles por qué han terminado en esa situación, mientras deben cuidarse de no ser atacados por "merodeadores", gente casi caníbal, reducidos a un estado salvaje y primitivo.
El hombre y el niño de "La carretera" no están exentos de estos peligros. Se han vuelto desconfiados ante las pocas personas con las que se cruzan, tal es el caso del viejo y tratan de no permanecer mucho tiempo en los lugares ni encender fuegos que los delaten.
Viven en una constante huida, mirando a sus espaldas, durmiendo de a ratos, calados por el frío atroz, el hambre extremo y unas condiciones climáticas totalmente adversas en donde la nieve, el viento y la lluvia son su azotes principales, ya que como perros de presa los persiguen y acucian y les horadan la moral y el temple.
Son sobrevivientes, aunque al hijo le cueste mucho entender el término. A duras penas se arrastran por un país en ruinas. El hambre y el frío es lo único que conocen.
Algunos pasajes son verdaderamente emotivos, con altas dosis de sufrimiento y penuria. Es muy difícil sobrellevar la historia sin ponerse un momento en los zapatos de estos personajes.
Con una descripción muy detallada del entorno en el que los personajes se encuentran y con una economía de diálogos suficiente para darnos a entender que extremas situaciones están atravesando, McCarthy logra un efecto de atención total en el lector.
No hay necesidad por parte del autor de ahondar en ni en conversaciones profundas ni en disertaciones filosóficas. Todo lo dialogado es rápido, directo y sin rodeos.
El sólo hecho de pensar que esto podría suceder algún día nos hace reflexionar de que el ser humano no es eterno sino todo lo contrario: es pequeño, endeble, débil y fácilmente extinguible.
Sólo basta que algún dictador trastornado aprete el botón equivocado para que este hermoso planeta quede reducido a cenizas como el de "La carretera".
Para aquellos que hayan visto la película protagonizada por Viggo Mortensen, puedo decirles que es imposible no asociar al actor mientras uno lee el libro y creo que esto no es algo negativo, sino que realza a enfocarse más en la historia.
Los personajes adquieren cierta identidad, tienen una "cara" que uno reconoce de la película que para variar respeta fielmente el argumento del libro. Diría que más dura aún y a la vez emocionante con un final no apto para aquellos de lágrima fácil.
Como escribí al comienzo, no leí nunca una historia similar a la de "La carretera". Seguramente habrá algún libro que describe lo que en este se nos cuenta.
Si algún lector puede trazar una comparación con otro libro, me gustaría saberlo para poder leerlo.
Soy un lector, pero ante todo un ser humano. Como padre no quisiera imaginarme el hecho de estar en la misma situación que describe McCarthy en esta historia.
El padre, más allá del precario estado de salud en que se encuentra, no flaquea ni muestra debilidad ante su hijo, sino que siempre intenta transmitirle la fortaleza y espíritu que tanto cuerpo y alma van perdiendo para dejar bien en alto la manera en la que amor filial debe sostenerse para no sucumbir ante tanto sufrimiento.
Este es el efecto maravilloso que produce en nosotros la literatura.
En muchas ocasiones, la ficción es capaz de irrumpir en la realidad para hacernos reflexionar y decir ¡qué fuertes somos, qué frágiles somos!

Cormac McCarthy has a simple formula for most of his novels. He begins by creating a relationship of heartwarming innocence and his genius is being able to create a protective love for his characters so quickly and effectively. Then he leads his characters out into a world of malevolent danger. This malevolent danger reaches its apotheosis in the dystopian world he creates in this novel where any stranger encountered is likely to be a murderous cannibal because we're in a world where the food chain has ceased to exist.

This is the story of a father whose sole remaining purpose in life is to keep his young son alive. The sun never appears, all vegetation is dead, there are no birds, no insects even. The father's only plan is to get to the sea. We never learn his name. He is "he" throughout and he rarely gives himself up to introspection. We don't learn how the earth was all but destroyed; we simply see the effects of the climate catastrophe. Most of what we learn about the former life of the father and son is achieved through brilliant simple dialogue. The novel is simple in its dynamic - we're kept on constant tenterhooks about the safety of the father and son. There are perhaps only two moods in the entire novel - the intimacy shared by two people who love each other and the ubiquitous threats to this love. The big surprise is how much life affirming beauty McCarthy manages to extract from this bleak futuristic vision. I'd already seen the film of this and it was pants compared to the book so don't be put off if you saw the film. This is a stunning novel!

Pulitzer Prize for Fiction 2016
James Tait Black Memorial Prize for Fiction 2016
McCarthy has always been big on biblical language and imagery, but this one takes the cake: Father and son marching down a road in a post-apocalyptic world covered in ashes, carrying the metaphorical fire through a world without mercy. The mother has committed suicide, refusing to endure the hardships of this dystopian reality, and the remaining duo are now fighting their way through an empty, cold, bleak American landscape, heading towards the coast in hopes of increasing their chances of survival - they are also carrying a revolver with two bullets, either to defend themselves or to follow the mother. On a constant hunt for food and shelter, they are battling to escape the marauding gangs of cannibals, hoping to make it to a safer place...

What happened that has caused the environmental collapse? We don't know, it's all about the allegory and the investigation into the conditio humana - and in McCarthy's eyes, humankind is doomed. Which, if you read works like Blood Meridian, or, the Evening Redness in the West, seems well-deserved. And "The Road" is also about the vibes: McCarthy is a master of sinister atmosphere, of suspenseful foreboding, of relentless bleakness. The novel has inspired a plethora of other works, among them "The Last of Us" and Kracht's latest novel Air.

McCarthy himself was inspired by his young son John with whom he visited El Paso in 2003 and envisioned what the future there might look like, and what it would mean for the kid. And while the finished novel ponders parenting in general, I have to admit that on the second read, and comparing it with "Air", the exchanges between the fictional father and son often appear cliched and simplistic, robbing the child of a complex inner life apart from fear, disorientation and dependency. Then again, only McCarthy can write a scene with a grilled human baby and it does not come across as silly edgelordery (you're not the only one throwing around questionable word creations, Cormac! :-)).

A well-deserved classic.