From the back cover:

A father and his son walk alone through burned America. Nothing moves in the ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind. It is cold enough to crack stones, and when the snow falls it is gray. The sky is dark. Their destination is the coast, although they don’t know what, if anything, awaits them there. They have nothing; just a pistol to defend themselves against the lawless bands that stalk the road, the clothes they are wearing, a cart of scavenged food—and each other.

The Road is the profoundly moving story of a journey. It boldly imagines a future in which no hope remains, but in which the father and his son, “each the other’s world entire,” are sustained by love. Awesome in the totality of its vision, The Road is an unflinching meditation on the worst and the best that we are capable of: ultimate destructiveness, desperate tenacity, and the tenderness that keeps two people alive in the face of total devastation.

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The description above gives the mechanics of the content of the book and does it as well as a summary photograph could do. But justice to the story won’t be delivered until one finds themselves between the book’s covers — on the road with the man and boy in the abject nothingness of their miserable world.

I bought this book for two reasons. First, I am curious to read Pulitzer Prize winning novels. I am an author myself and Pulitzer is a strong incentive. Secondly, I had read another of Cormac McCarthy’s books, No Country For Old Men, for which another report is in my pipeline. I was impressed by the style and verve I found there. BTW, McCarthy has another dozen or so novels to his credit that I expect to read and possibly review.

As I was well into the book I asked myself who in their right mind, other than another author tracing Pulitzer interest, would read this book? I knew that McCarthy wasn’t big on happy endings. But I couldn’t put it down. Gripping is not the word. Harry-chested, as author Jim Crace describes it. Near obsession, I came to think, was my reaction to it. And then I understood.

As I became immersed in this book — as it seeped into my being — I became aware of stark contrast, as aware of the unmitigated blessings of my own life as of the unmitigated misery of the man and the boy in their hopeless struggle for life — to carry the fire, as the man said.

Never again will I ignore the beauty.

A blue sky. Verdant color of living grass blades. Lush leaves of growing trees. Sparkle of sunlight on silvery water. Wheel and turn of large soaring birds. Twitter and flutter, sweet love songs of smaller birds. Ozone mist in the distance of blue mountain horizon. Puffy white clouds. Clean air to breathe. Sweet drinking water. Warm bedding and clothes. Shelter from cold and wet. More than enough to eat.

And people. Happy people. Happy people who care.

Reading this book is painful. I understand that childbirth has that characteristic. So, do I recommend this book? A resounding yes! The result is worth the agony.

© 2008 R. Leland Waldrip