On Sunday evening, when most people were to be found slouched on the couch or getting one last pint in the pub before having to go back to work, where was I? I was curled up in a corner reading The Road, with tears literally rolling down my cheeks. This is another book I have read before, so I was sort of prepared for the emotional onslaught, and I’d decided to dedicate a few hours over a couple of days to reading it instead of snatching pages here and there and losing some of the effect.
The language is sparse and bleak; the dialogue is minimal but incredibly touching. The premise – a man and his only son, in a post-apocalyptic future where every day brings new horrors, travel South, hoping to find some form of hope – is endlessly depressing, but in a really amazing way.
When I read The Wasp Factory, it was depressing, sure. But I didn’t feel like it was beneficial to me in any way. The Road, on the other hand, left me feeling hopeful, and optimistic, and ready to leap up and stop climate change in its tracks!
Fancy joining me in that?