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I en uhyggelig troværdig vision af vores mulige fremtid kæmper en far og hans søn for at overleve i et USA, som ligger totalt øde hen efter "den store katastrofe". Der er intet tilbage af civilisationen, og de to vandrer planløst afsted, kun holdt oppe af omsorgen og hengivenheden for hinanden.
psybre: Earth Abides, a classic post-apocalyptic novel published in 1949, is a bit less dark, and as an ecological fable, contains more science than The Road. When pondering to read The Road again, read this book instead.
hazzabamboo: Two post-apocalyptic masterpieces, with much of their power coming from their focus on a couple of characters and the exotic horrors that threaten them.
Stbalbach: Kosinski & McCarthy were born 5 weeks apart in 1933 and were ages 6-12 during WWII. Both books are dark violent fables told from a child's view.
Boohradley: There are a lot of similarities between the plot of this book and The Road. In Parable of the Sower an adolescent girl, who suffers from hyper-empathy, makes a long journey in hope of survival in a hostile, post-apocalyptic world.
USA, en gang i en nær fremtid Efter en næsten altødelæggende katastrofe vandrer en mand med sin søn gennem et askedækket USA mod syd. Himlen er mørk af aske, der stille falder og falder overalt og blandes med sneen til et gråt lag, som den næsten fraværende sol ikke smelter. De to flygter fra kulden, som med sikkerhed ville slå dem ihjel i denne vinter. Alt er dødt efter katastrofen. Der er ikke længere dyr eller fugle eller insekter at finde i skovene og alle træer og planter er døde. Spørgsmålet som martrer manden, mens han kæmper for at holde dem i live, er hvor længe de tør vente med at begå selvmord. Hans kone, drengens mor, var klarsynet, uden håb og modig. Alle huse og butikker, de kommer forbi på vejen er forlængst plyndret i bund. Alle lig - og det er mange - er uden sko. Det eneste friske kød at få er menneskekød, så de undgår kontakt med de få andre, de ser på vejen. Både manden og drengen er sølle. Manden har formentlig tuberkulose og hoster blod, og begge er jammerligt udsultede. Undervejs finder de et par skatkamre med konserves og drikkevand, hvilket holder dem i live til de når kysten. Her dør manden og drengen slår følge med en lille familie.
Kulsort dystopi, hvor det eneste urealistiske er at hovedpersonerne stadig er i live, men nogen skal jo være den sidste ( )
Gribende skildring af et totalt ødelagt USA, hvor en far og søn vandrer af sted for at finde mad, varme, vand. Virker utroligt trøstesløst, man bliver beklemt og deprimeret. Fornemmer fuldstændig, hvor forfærdelig det kan blive! ( )
With only the corpse of a natural world to grapple with, McCarthy's father and son exist in a realm rarely seen in the ur-masculine literary tradition: the domestic. And from this unlikely vantage McCarthy makes a big, shockingly successful grab at the universal.
“The Road” is a dynamic tale, offered in the often exalted prose that is McCarthy’s signature, but this time in restrained doses — short, vivid sentences, episodes only a few paragraphs or a few lines long, which is yet another departure for him.
Post-apocalyptic fiction isn't automatically better when written by Cormac McCarthy, but he does have a way of investing genre clichés with fine gray tones and morose poetry.
But even with its flaws, there's just no getting around it: The Road is a frightening, profound tale that drags us into places we don't want to go, forces us to think about questions we don't want to ask. Readers who sneer at McCarthy's mythic and biblical grandiosity will cringe at the ambition of The Road . At first I kept trying to scoff at it, too, but I was just whistling past the graveyard. Ultimately, my cynicism was overwhelmed by the visceral power of McCarthy's prose and the simple beauty of this hero's love for his son.
It is a survival guide on how to design shoes out of tarp, replace a shopping-cart wheel, and siphon gas from a stove. McCarthy’s project is to render these objects strange—as remnants of an alien race—until they gain the power to instill awe and terror, a reenchantment of the world. A well-preserved sextant unexpectedly stirs the father, cans of peaches are handled like sacred chalices, and unknown tracks in the asphalt reduce the boy to tears.
As usual with McCarthy's writing, most of the normal apparatus of English prose is missing: no quotation marks, few capitals, few apostrophes and fewer commas. Sentences are mostly fragmentary, and dialogue is minimal. Typically, McCarthy salts his language with unusual or coined words: "claggy," "disclets," "nitty," "meconium," "rachitic," "salitter," "crozzled," "bolus," "woad," "parsible." Even a Yiddish word, "tokus."
One of McCarthy's best novels, probably his most moving and perhaps his most personal, "The Road" would be the ideal coda to a body of work that now spans 10 books over 40 years.
Through his scaled-down view of a post-apocalypse American east, McCarthy has discovered a rich, engrossing landscape that is distinctly his own. It’s a horrible pleasure to watch the father and his son make their way through it, even as one remains unsure whether it would be more humane to hope for their survival or hope for their gentle death.
Oplysninger fra den engelske Almen VidenRedigér teksten, så den bliver dansk.
This book is dedicated to John Francis McCarthy
Første ord
Oplysninger fra den engelske Almen VidenRedigér teksten, så den bliver dansk.
When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of the night he'd reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him.
Citater
Oplysninger fra den engelske Almen VidenRedigér teksten, så den bliver dansk.
He'd not have thought the value of the smallest thing predicated on a world to come. It surprised him. That the space which these things occupied was itself an expectation (149).
From daydreams on the road there was no waking. He plodded on. He could remember everything of her save her scent. Seated in a theatre with her beside him leaning forward listening to the music. Gold scrollwork and sconces and the tall columnar folds of the drapes at either side of the stage. She held his hand in her lap and he could feel the tops of her stockings through the thin stuff of her summer dress. Freeze this frame. Now call down your dark and your cold and be damned.
He pulled the boy closer. Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said. You might want to think about that.
You forget some things, don't you?
Yes. You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget.
It took two days to cross that ashen scabland. The road beyond fell away on every side. It's snowing, the boy said. He looked at the sky. A single gray flake sifting down. He caught it in his hand and watched it expire there like the last host of christendom.
He thought if he lived long enough the world at last would be lost. Like the dying world the newly blind inhabit, all of it slowly fading from memory.
On this road there are no godspoke men. They are gone and I am left and they have taken with them the world. Query: how does the never to be differ from what never was?
All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes.
There is no God and we are his prophets.
Sidste ord
Oplysninger fra den engelske Almen VidenRedigér teksten, så den bliver dansk.
In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.
I en uhyggelig troværdig vision af vores mulige fremtid kæmper en far og hans søn for at overleve i et USA, som ligger totalt øde hen efter "den store katastrofe". Der er intet tilbage af civilisationen, og de to vandrer planløst afsted, kun holdt oppe af omsorgen og hengivenheden for hinanden.
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Let's Discuss The Road by Cormac McCarthy
30
Efter en næsten altødelæggende katastrofe vandrer en mand med sin søn gennem et askedækket USA mod syd. Himlen er mørk af aske, der stille falder og falder overalt og blandes med sneen til et gråt lag, som den næsten fraværende sol ikke smelter. De to flygter fra kulden, som med sikkerhed ville slå dem ihjel i denne vinter. Alt er dødt efter katastrofen. Der er ikke længere dyr eller fugle eller insekter at finde i skovene og alle træer og planter er døde.
Spørgsmålet som martrer manden, mens han kæmper for at holde dem i live, er hvor længe de tør vente med at begå selvmord. Hans kone, drengens mor, var klarsynet, uden håb og modig.
Alle huse og butikker, de kommer forbi på vejen er forlængst plyndret i bund. Alle lig - og det er mange - er uden sko. Det eneste friske kød at få er menneskekød, så de undgår kontakt med de få andre, de ser på vejen.
Både manden og drengen er sølle. Manden har formentlig tuberkulose og hoster blod, og begge er jammerligt udsultede. Undervejs finder de et par skatkamre med konserves og drikkevand, hvilket holder dem i live til de når kysten. Her dør manden og drengen slår følge med en lille familie.
Kulsort dystopi, hvor det eneste urealistiske er at hovedpersonerne stadig er i live, men nogen skal jo være den sidste (