What would you do if you were the last good person on earth, surrounded by evil and madness? Could you keep your "fire of goodness" burning?
What if your fire were reduced to embers in the absence of your metaphorical firewood - family, friends, God. Could you continue to stoke those embers?
Such is the question posed in Cormac McCarthy's masterpiece, The Road. Yes, I said masterpiece. This is my best description of a novel I almost didn't finish. It is both horrendous and elegant. The story is of a man and his son in a post-apocalyptic world, struggling to keep the fire.
Those of you who regularly hang out with me (my lunch buddies and Trey) know that I started reading the book this summer but had to put it down because it sent me into despair. I am still amazed that McCarthy was able to pull the awful contents of the novel from deep inside his brain and articulate the details on the page. If that place exists my brain, I choose not to go there. I dreamt of the novel. It haunted me. So I put it down.
But I needed to finish it. The "obsessive" part of my perceived OCD reared its ugly head as I talked about the novel all of the time. I wanted someone - everyone - who had read it to encourage me to finish. I needed someone who had been into the book's darkness to tell me that I could wade into it without getting sucked in. My friends and fellow readers came through, and I finished the book.
Now, if you know my taste in books at all you've figured out that my mental rubric of book quality has the most weight on theme - the "why do I care? how does this apply to me?" part of the book. That's not to say that I don't enjoy a good fluff book from time to time (see Are You There Vodka? It's Me Chelsea on my book list for this year), but the books I love are the ones that give me something to chew on, something to consider in the twists and turns of normal and not-so-normal life.
Yet the best thing about McCarthy's road is where it didn't take me. Unlike the nameless father and son trudging through the end of the world, I am not the only good guy left. Neither are you.
And there's the lesson. This afternoon I was able to walk down the hallways of school and through the rooms of my house and see good guys everywhere I turned.
The student who sees that my hands are more than full and offers to help - he's one.
The friend who sends a kind email for no reason on a day I feel less than inadequate - she's one.
My niece who always notices when something or someone just isn't okay and always tries to help - she's a good guy, too.
My husband, my favorite person in the world, also on our team.
We're the good guys, and we're everywhere.
Look around you and know that you are one of many. And we're all carrying the fire.
Sidenote: I did not reveal more about the novel here than one would learn from the jacket of the book, however I would caution you that McCarthy's style of writing is a bit unusual. When discussing it with a friend (and one of the most intelligent people I know), he described McCarthy as having a sort of existential style in which the feelings of the characters aren't often revealed. I encourage you to pick up the novel, but be forewarned of the uniqueness of McCarthy's work.
Oh yeah, and the guy doesn't like punctuation.
1 comment:
I'm very glad you enjoyed The Road, Stormy. I was a bit anxious about your reaction to the novel - putting it down, deliberating whether to finish it or not - because I knew what you'd think of the novel once you finished it.
We'll have to talk about the novel when we have the time.
/posting anonymously to conserve my secret identity
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