I just read Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. That is some bleak-ass-shit. I feel awful. I remember when I saw the movie, I felt awful for like three weeks afterwards. I thought, since I already saw the movie, I wouldn’t feel so bad after reading the book. Well, I feel like crap. Maybe not as crappy as I would have if I hadn’t seen the movie, but still, like crap.
So, I’m walking the Goose and I keep thinking we’re like the man and the boy in the story, walking through the desolation of the post-apocolyptic world, avoiding people and trying to scavenge things from the world, things like sparkly chrome and glass charm bracelets or quarters crazy-glued to the sidewalk, or maybe something to eat, like a squirrel or leftover pizza.
Then I start thinking about what The Road is actually about (spoiler alert?). It’s really a wonderful epic poem, a lot like the Odyssey. Right down the the lotus eaters part.
But, probably more profoundly, it’s a psychoanalytic story. It’s the story of a person who has experienced severe trauma. Trauma so bad that the person’s personality had to split in two in order to protect itself: one a helpless child and the other a powerful and protective adult. The adult keeps constant watch, protecting the child from all dangers. But, unfortunately, keeping away all hope and compassion and joy. It is, in these cases, only when the overprotective “adult” sub-personality finally lets go that the formerly helpless “child” sub-personality can finally experience freedom and happiness…
I know, WTF are you talking about?
Read the book, you’ll get it.