I watched the movie before the book, and wanted to read the source material behind one of the most depressing yet oddly enjoyable films I’ve seen.

Turns out the books was pretty much the same: depressing but enjoyable.

The major thing the movie couldn’t translate is the poetry of McCarthy’s prose. He possesses the ability to use sparse, simple language the way a master artist might paint a deceptively simple landscape. There’s magic in between his words, creating a melancholy beauty to even the grimmest of circumstances. The concept is such a simple one: a man and a boy travelling across the desolation of a post-apocalyptic America. They hardly have any encounters with another human being, yet the danger is always shadowing them. Their world is so heartless, so bleak…yet their love for one anther somehow shines in darkness.

It took me a minute to get used to McCarthy’s lack of quotation marks for dialogue, which admittedly gave me problems at the beginning. But as I got into the book, I hardly noticed anymore. Overall, this is a masterpiece of writing. My first book by McCarthy, but definitely not my last.

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