The Road by Cormac McCarthy


I resisted reading The Road for quite some time, thinking it would be too bleak, too depressing. Now it seems I will be on The Road for ever, reading and re reading. It is impossible to put down. A work of beauty, a seminal work that should be required reading for those who make decisions for us.

A man and his young son have taken to the road, post apocalypse, heading south for the warmth and, one suspects, in hope of better things.

Hungry, freezing and sick by turns, beset by dangers and marauders, they walk, keeping their spirits and their humanity as best they can in the terrifying aftermath.

The world of the book, full of pathos for what is lost, near total annihilation, grey with billowing ash, burned or rendered bodies on many pages, is presumably the result of some terrible man-made or nuclear disaster that is never specified.

It is worrying prescient. Daily news has that impending doom to it as dull untrustworthy governments dice with our wellbeing at the risk of all.



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