I know, I know – everyone is raving about The Road, its horror and its tenderness. A friend loaned me her copy, feeling I would enjoy it.
I mistrusted it right from the beggining, with the Winner of the Pulitzer Prize sticker on the cover and all. I tried to read the back cover, which began with “A father and his son walk alone through burned America. Nothing moves….save the ash on the wind.” I resisted it even more after that.
Finally I opened it randomly near the end. Ugh. I flipped through, reading 3 or 4 pages here and there. Picking up what there was of story. More Ugh.
Apocalyptic – perhaps the end times. Who cares? We are finally in the middle of the paradigm shift, are finally heading (seen only so very dimly) into joy and peace as humans. And then we get this book – pointing us straight back toward where we’ve been.
To me, the ash on the wind is right this minute, with madmen in charge of our most precious institutions. We are definitely heading into a far different future.
I simply put this despairing and gauntly written book down, not to be picked up again – except to return it to its owner.