The Road (Cormac McCarthy)

Gruesome. Scary. Devastingly awful. That's what I thought of the bleak scene painted in Cormac McCarthy's novel, The Road, as I read it in a two-night marathon. I couldn't put it down. The world as we know it has ended, and yet what has caused the end is never told. The land is covered with ash, in many places, the trees are burnt, the tires of cars melted, bubbled into softened pavement. Corpses sunken, beyond recognition lie along the road, in empty, decrepit houses. And a father and a son, both also never named, travel this road trying to survive despite long periods of starvation, lack of water, of shelter from the snow and wind. More grievous, more threatening are the tribes of "bad guys" as the son calls them who scavenge, steal, rape young boys and women, and then kill all they encounter to eat--that's the "bad guys" version of surviving. Beyond all hope, the boy and his father endure until the very end. What a read. An unusual read, to be sure. But considering I could not put it down, perhaps it was because of that pull of love amidst the destruction and waste that would have devastated most that kept me reading on.