A father and son trek across a post-apocalyptic world, now little more than a heap of charred forests and corpses. The planet, in its desolation, has become not only a glorified cemetery for its past inhabitants, but also a burial ground for the (un)lucky few who may have physically survived but whose sense of morality and will to live have not. The father and son travel tirelessly along a road enduring the bitter cold, the uncertainty of when they’ll find their next meal and the anxiety of evading depraved cannibals. The harsh new world has jaded both characters to the point that neither is eager to see another day. Yet, unable to give up on the other, they keep walking.
Did I enjoy reading this? Not much. But I don’t think McCarthy was going for enjoyment. I think he executed the book exactly how it needed to be. His writing, for the most part, was almost aseptic — cold and impersonal, stripped of warmth or emotion. But at other times, McCarthy would interject with such profound lines of prose. It felt like finding diamonds among the rubble.
The dialogue between the father and son reflects exactly what you would expect from survivors living in such a world: tired, routine and uninspired. There’s little focus on the characters beyond their external actions. No analyses of their thoughts or emotions. It was a list of “He said this” and “He did that.”
Overall, I found the book repetitive. The constant gray descriptions of the world and landscape got tedious after a while. Add to that a very limited plot that consists of foraging, hiding and occasionally nearly running into cannibals, and you get a book that I found difficult to get through.
What I thought to be the saving grace, and highlight of the book, was the relationship between the father and son. There’s one quote from the father that I think perfectly distills their dynamic into a single line: “I will not send you into the darkness alone.” They act as a light for each other in a world that has succumbed to evil darkness. The mention of darkness brings up the most poignant symbolism in the book: fire. The father refers to themselves as the “good guys” who are, “carrying the fire.” They set themselves apart from the other survivors in how they refuse to harm others for the sake of their survival. They’re the “good guys” in that way. At the same time, there were several instances in the novel where the father, despite the young boy’s pleas, chooses to turn his back on others who are struggling. The boy, somehow remaining so altruistic and deeply concerned for others, begs his father to help, but with his son’s survival as his top priority, the father says no. The boy often cries after and becomes reticent with anger, but it is apparent that that fire they carry still quietly burns in him.
Towards the end of the novel, when the father is battling sickness, he tells the boy, “You have to carry the fire,” solidifying his son’s important role as a symbol of morality. McCarthy’s The Road is a portrait of humanity stripped to the bone. It shows perfectly how equally capable we are of doing good and committing atrocities, and how, when faced with survival, the scale can easily tip. This book is far from sunshine and rainbows, but if you would like to read a piece so reflective of human nature, I suggest you pick this up.