“It’s just a book.” “It didn’t really happen.” “It’s FICTION.” “The author made this up.” “It’s not real.”
As I read it, I had to keep reassuring myself that it was only a book, only a book, only a book.
Holy motherF*CKER that was one mind-f*ck of a book.
Thank God it was short.
My stomach cramped every time I picked it up. I had to keep skimming a couple of pages ahead to make sure that what was surely, surely about to happen didn’t ACTUALLY happen. I had to keep taking breaks and switching to other books, to keep from getting overwhelmed.
And yet I had to keep reading. I had to. I had to find out what happened to the man and the little boy, even though I was pretty sure that I already knew.
Cormac McCarthy does not tend to write happy endings.
I took it with me to a doctor’s appointment and sat reading slack-jawed in the waiting room, hoping they didn’t call my name right away, and yet hoping that they did, so I could stop reading.
I read and I read and I read and I feel awful that I read it. This book really, really upset me. I actually felt angry at Mr. McCarthy for writing it, it shook me so much.
And here’s the thing: They made a movie out of this. I cannot wrap my head around that. I cannot imagine that anyone, having read the book, would want to see the movie. I cannot even imagine what the movie itself must be like. I don’t ever, ever want to know.
Was it a bad book? No. It was extremely well-written; Mr. McCarthy is a lyrical author. But the subject matter was so awful …
So. I wish I’d never read it. I’m sorry that I did. I finished it a little while ago, and I am actually crying as I write this, thinking about The Road. I wish I could take the reading of it back.
Oh, and ~~Silk, you said that this book was an allegory, which from what I understand means that the characters and the plot are actually stand-ins for something else. So I’m trying to figure out what this book is an allegory for, and I’m kind of stumped. I’m not sure. And I’m sure as F*CK not going to read it again to try and figure it out.
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6 comments:
I have read books before that I hated and yet could not put down. The Lovely Bones and Lullabies for Little Criminals were two that come to mind. I will remember to *not* read The Road! Thanks for the information.
I saw the movie but did not read the book. It was intense but totally bearable. I know you won't see it, but I'm just letting you know. I've never read anything that disturbed me. That says something either about my choices in literature or about my moral character :/
I read something else by Cormac McCarthy and when "The Road" came out, knew I wouldn't go anywhere near it. I admire your perseverance.
Do you ever find yourself thinking about a bad thing? Like, something that would probably never happen in a million years, but theoretically it COULD happen, and if it DID happen, it would be really really bad, and you can’t stop thinking about it?
Sometimes when I find myself thinking about a bad thing over and over, I wish that I could just write it down, just put it all down on paper, and then maybe I could finally let it go. Like, what’s that kind of therapy, where you expose yourself to something that disturbs you over and over, until it doesn’t bother you anymore?
I wonder if this book was Mr. McCarthy’s way of getting rid of a bad thing?
Or, you know, maybe he just decided to write a book about a man and a boy, and because he’s Cormac McCarthy, it came out as “The Road”.
Exposure therapy, a subset of behavior modification.
See my latest post on The Road.
Thanks for that excellent post, ~~Silk!
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