Cormac McCarthy’s ‘The Road’
In the interest of full disclosure, I had never heard of McCarthy before seeing the movie adaption of No Country for Old Men, so you can count me as someone that jumped on the bandwagon after it became popular. But boy, am I glad that I did.
As a reader I found this a difficult novel to absorb. Perhaps I have just not been exposed to such upsetting situations in the literature that I have consumed, or perhaps I was in a malleable mood when I was reading it, but I was very much unsettled by the entire experience. I have also developed an overall darker mindset over the last two years, and so maybe that contributed to it. I won’t go into details (mainly because I think that shock is an important part of the experience), but certain sections of the book forced me to put it down and take a few deep breaths. I remember swearing loudly at a scene near the end of the novel, and I vividly remember having a tough time talking to my girlfriend later on that evening. That scene in particular made me very upset, mainly because I felt that it was an entirely plausible situation. It’s distressing to be confronted with such a stark, bleak assessment of humanity and to seriously wonder if it was actually possible. I ended up not even telling my girlfriend about it, for two reasons: first, it is a disturbing image, and second, because I think that it would be easy to hear it and immediately dismiss it as false or unrealistic. It isn’t until you become entirely enmeshed in the world that McCarty creates that you start to seriously consider the plausibility of the atrocities that are committed. I cannot remember another novel that caused this reaction in me, which speaks volumes about McCarthy’s ability as a writer.
As an author I was immediately struck by McCarthy’s writing style. At the time I had never read Joyce or Faulker, two authors that are frequently mentioned when McCarthy is discussed. And even though I had been exposed to writing that invokes certain elements of that style, something about McCarthy set me ablaze. I felt as if I have never really been exposed to that fluid style of writing until reading him (and then Faulkner and Joyce…out of order, really, but at least I’ve now done it). I really can’t put my finger on it. Reading back through my work, I see that my composition style is extremely rigid. I think my writing is riddled with instances where it is obvious that I am terrified of making minor mistakes, anxious that I am going to make a dumb error with my verb tenses, and nervous that I am using the same word too often. I concentrated on the mechanical process rather than the intentions behind my writing. Reading the works of the aforementioned authors has, I think, helped me to calm down and enjoy the process rather than worry about every little comma or phrase. Hopefully this epiphany may help me open up a little bit.
You know what? I was all ready to send you to Wikipedia again, but I’m not going to do that this time. I strongly recommend reading this book without knowing any of the plot details. I know that the information is readily available, but skip it for the time being and go check out this book from your library. Reading about it on the internet just won’t give the same effect.
| Phil | Aug.26.2008 - 22:28:56 | Main | Print This Post | No Comments »
