Vol IV: #59 The Road
I finished reading The Road today. And it sucked. I hated the repetitive prose and predictable action. Additionally, we learn very little of our main characters, which was intentional. But mostly I hated the mind-numbing, often rambling, descriptions of the landscape and weather. Honestly, it felt like the author decided to play a trick on his readers- to write as annoyingly as possible while still being hailed as “genius.” And hailed it was, y’all.
“McCarthy's purest fable yet”
Entertainment Weekly in June 2008 named The Road the best book, fiction or non-fiction, of the past 25 years.
It[The Road] is remarkable for its acuity, empathy and insight.
What makes my verdict more enjoyable is knowing how well loved the novel was and is. Aside from the above, Oprah loved it and the damn thing won a Pulitzer Prize. How? I couldn’t fathom. During the entire read, one thought circled through my mind. If I wrote this for a college professor, they’d hate it. It’s not as though The Road was an artistic attempt, though the critics will say otherwise. I agree, the novel is an exercise by the author, though I object to what kind of exercise. I maintain, The Road is an attempt to strip a story down to its bones, and then describe those bones to you over and over and over, for 240 (weirdly oblong) pages.
Nik, we get you didn’t like it, but was it a good novel? Um, no. The Road is boring and long and makes me wish I didn’t read it. So, unless you like post-apocalyptic novels of an annoying persuasion…
