I received Cormac McCarthy's The Road for my birthday from my uncle in the mail last. We've had a running debate of sorts over the years that I will never enjoy the books that he sends me, mostly because I always feel that he is under the impression that unless an author is dead, they can't be considered a good writer.
So this year, he sent me The Road. He sent a note along with it, saying that even though Cormac McCarthy is still living, I still probably won't like the book. How wrong he is. I sat down towards the end of the night last night to just give the first couple of pages a try, and when I looked up at the clock, it was 1am and I had read half of the book. If I hadn't had to go to work in the morning, I probably would have just stayed up to finish it. What I've read so far is amazing. The sense of desolation that McCarthy imparts is immediate, making the few moments of happiness for the father and his son truly shine through.
If you have never read this book before, based on what I've read so far, I'd highly recommend it. I highly doubt the second half is going to be disappointing. I'll have it finished by the weekend and talk about it at my Sunday Salon.
I think I'm going to shut From My Bookshelf down for a while; maybe for good. I've been putting this together for quite a few years now and it's starting to feel a bit more of a chore. I'll keep my Goodreads & Instagram connected, but with the state of the world right now, I just want to read without worrying about making sure I post something about it. Who knows - when the world starts to make some semblance of sense again, I may start actively posting here again. Until then, as always, happy reading!