The Road Literature

Cormac McCarthy

I finished playing LISA a while ago, about two weeks to be more precise, and this was possibly the greatest book I could’ve ever read following that experience. I mean if I had a quarter for every piece of media I’ve consumed this March relating to an apocalyptic future where a father has to protect their child and themes of fatherhood and morality are explored I’d have two quarters, which as they say in the biz, “isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.” The Road is a great albeit completely miserable read. The best line of comparison I can think of is if Faulkner was writing a book set in a post-apocalyptic landscape, the difference here being that McCarthy isn’t even half as boring as Faulkner. The Road’s writing, in terms of it kind of being a horror novel, are native (and excel in) the department of “being vague enough to keep you interested.” Ambiguity is one of McCarthy’s sharpest tools here, it’s unclear when dialogue is narration or when it’s actual dialogue, yet it’s done well enough that instead of just being confusing and a headache to read, it allows you to reflect on the different ways someone can interpret the book. The characters don’t have names and never is it outright stated what led the world to be like this. The Road, in other words, is cruel, bleak, and distressing while it lasts, yet not just a ridiculously self-indulgent misery-fest designed to make readers squirm.