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reader The Road

read The Road reader î é [Reading] ➸ The Road By Cormac McCarthy – Johns-cycling-diary.co.uk A searing postapocalyptic novel destined to become Cormac McCarthy’s masterpieceA father and his son walk alone through burned America Nothing moves in the ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind A searing postapocalyptic novel destined to becomWhich the father and his son “each the other’s world entire” are sustained by love Awesome in the totality of its vision it is an unflinching meditation on the worst and the best that we are capable of ultimate destructiveness desperate tenacity and the tenderness that keeps two people alive in the face of total devastati How to Write Like Cormac McCarthy1 Make sure the first sentence contains a verb2 But neither the second3 Nor the third4 Repeat until finished 5 Or sooner deterredWe'll Become Well EventuallyThe Boy Papa?Papa Yes?The Boy What's this?Papa It's an apostropheThe Boy What does it do?Papa It takes two words and turns them into a contractionThe Boy Is that good?Papa Years ago people used to think it was goodThe Boy What about now?Papa Not many people use them nowThe Boy Does the world already have enough contractions Papa?Papa I hadn't thought of it like that But you might be on to somethingThe Boy What difference would it make if we threw away all the apostrophes?Papa Not much I don't thinkThe Boy I wonder if we could get rid of the apostrophe then maybePapa Yes?The Boy You could say we'll be wellPapa You're right You know But it could get confusing If you wrote it down Without an apostrophe Well be wellThe Boy But really Papa if we could take away just one apostrophe do you think we'll become well? Eventually All of us?Papa We could The Boy Well then if we can get rid of all of the apostrophes we willPapa But then there wouldn't be any contractions The Boy PapaPapa Haha I wish your grammar could hear you talkingIn Praise of the Verb to GrowOut of ashen gray Freuently grow sentencesOf colored beautyAll Things of Grace and BeautyAn Assemblage of Favourite Sentences Like the onset of some cold glaucoma dimming away the world No fall but preceded by a declination He caught it in his hand and watched it expire there like the last host of christendom No one travelled this land Ever's a long time Creedless shells of men tottering down the causeways like migrants in a feverland The sparks rushed upward and died in the starless dark On this road there are no godspoke men How does the never to be differ from what never was? By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp The ash fell on the snow until it was all but black Paths of feral fire in the coagulate sands The day providential to itself All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance of pain We're survivors he told her across the flame of the lamp A black billcap with the logo of some vanished enterprise embroidered across the front of it In the darkness and the silence he could see bits of light that appeared random on the night grid The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality The dark serpentine of a dead vine running down it like the track of some enterprise on a graph A single bit of sediment coiling in the jar on some slow hydraulic axis a pale palimpsest of advertisements for goods which no longer existed The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth There is no God and we are his prophets They are watching for a thing that even death cannot undo Like the desolation of some alien sea breaking on the shores of a world unheard of One vast salt sepulchre There were few nights lying in the dark when he did not envy the dead I will not send you into the darkness alone The mudstained shapes of flooded cities burned to the waterline A living man spoke these lines Ten thousand dreams ensepulchred within their crozzled hearts The ponderous counterspectacle of things ceasing to be The sweeping waste hydroptic and coldly secular There is no prophet in the earth's long chronicle who's not honored here today Nick Cave Warren Ellis The Beach The Road Soundtrack Dystopian Ending Haikuview spoilerIn the silver lightOf the moon above the beach A big suid ate them hide spoiler

Cormac McCarthy ô The Road reader

A searing postapocalyptic novel destined to become Cormac McCarthy’s masterpieceA father and his son walk alone through burned America Nothing moves in the ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind It is cold enough to crack stones and when the snow falls it is gray The sky is dark Their destination is the coast although they This wasn't nearly as funny as everybody says it is

epub ´ ô Cormac McCarthy

The RoadDon’t know what if anything awaits them there They have nothing; just a pistol to defend themselves against the lawless bands that stalk the road the clothes they are wearing a cart of scavenged food and each other The Road is the profoundly moving story of a journey It boldly imagines a future in which no hope remains but in He palmed the spartan book with black cover and set out in the gray morning Grayness ashen Ashen in face Ashen in the skyHe set out for the road the book in hand Bleakness grayness Nothing but gray alwaysHe was tired and hungry Coughing The coughing had gotten worse He felt like he might die But he couldn't die Not yetThe boy depended on himHe walked down the road awaiting the creaking bus It trundled from somewhere through the gray fog The ashen gray fogHe stepped aboard spartan book in hand No one spoke They were all ghosts Tired wrinkled rumpled going wherever Not knowing why Just goingHe opened the book and read He began to see a pattern a monotonous pattern of hopelessness Chunks of gray hopelessness Prose set in concrete gray Gray blocks of prose He readHe recognized images from films long since past and books from authors of yore Many science fiction writers many movie makers He thought he saw a flash something familiar Perhaps it was only one of his nagging dreams A dream of what once existed but he did not know Wasn't there once he wondered a story called A Boy And His Dog by who? Ellison maybe? Was that the name? It seemed right but his mind was unreliable It had not been reliable in awhile People forget Yes they forget And here a fragment The Last Man on Earth The Omega Man Dawn of the Dead Planet of the Apes The Day After The Twilight Zone Yes that one the one about the man and the books The broken glasses Cannibals people in rags charred bodies emptiness grayness On the Beach popped into his mind His gray dulled mind The Andromeda Strain Dessicated bodies Dusty leathered ashen bodies The rain the snow the white the cold the gray The endless white The endless gray Escape from New York The titles seemed endless but they blended in his wearied mind Had he not read and seen all this a thousand times before? What was he to make of this book he held this spartan black book this cobbling of all that had come before all set forth again? Was this original he wondered? He continued to read But he was tired flagging Rain tin food wet blankets shivering twigs and fire and cold Always cold and gray And walking slowly Always walking down the road And hiding Hiding and walking Ceaselessly And atrocities Savagery Road warriors the bad guys Did this also not seem familiar? The man wondered but his mind like those of most of the masses often forgot He thanked an unseen God for this forgetfulness for it made it easier for him to read uncritically unknowingly The author McCarthy no doubt also must have been relieved that no one cared any Plagiarism belonged to the dead past A uaint notion of a bygone day Not a concern in these gray times The times of sampling Of plunderMy concoction is out of a tin can he might have thought But he did not Tin food prepackaged Cans waiting to be plucked and plundered He opened the literary beenie weenies and served them to the world And the world ate hungrily ate And believed that beenie weenies on their empty stomachs tasted like the greatest gourmet dish they had ever tasted For they knew not any better Their gray matter just did not knowAnd they went on down the road KRKY 2009 amended only very slightly in 2016NOTE This review was written about and during bus rides to work while reading this book To date it is my most popular review on Goodreads and for that I thank everyone It appeared on the Publisher's Weekly website in an article on best parody reviews on Goodreads Thanks to everyone who agreed with me and to also those who disagreed and vigorously defended the book