Seven years ago when I was on my Pulitzer binge, I read The Road by Cormack McCarthy. I had some issues with it.
- First, I confused Cormack McCarthy with Carson McCullers, so I was a generation off to start, and then I was really taken aback at how dark she must have gotten in her old age.
- Second, Hero’s Journey plot? Hate them.
- Third, you might expect that I had a problem with the [SPOILERS] Roast Baby, but I didn’t: in fact that was the most memorable part.
So, that was seven years ago, and last night Gary mentioned he was “almost finished with The Road.“
“Oh, yes, I hated that.” I said.
“Did you make it to the end?” He said this in a haughty manner, as if to suggest he had made it to the end and it was quite an accomplishment.
I assumed by his tone that he was done and wanted to discuss it. I said something like, “What did you think of the ambiguous ending? When the father died, did you — “
“THE FATHER DIES?”
Seriously, he hadn’t gotten that far yet. And since that and the Baby Kebab are the only things that happen in The Road, I spoiled the end of the book for him.
I felt bad, but it was his own fault. “Did you make it to the end,” indeed.