Dystopic literature has not usually been my genre of choice, but I find myself reading a handful of those books recently: Cloud Atlas, The Handmaid's Tale, The Road, and I'm currently reading 1984 on my phone's Kindle app.
After a long hiatus (over a year!), I finally picked up The Road again and resumed reading it. It is a disturbing, depressing, yet mostly gentle account of a post-apocalyptic world where every living thing - plants, animals - has perished, except for a small number of humans who are left scrabbling for existence, some attacking others, some helping others, and many just trying to avoid others. The plot centers on a man and his young son, called "Papa" and "the boy." We find them traveling a deserted road. The world is bleak and dark, overshadowed by clouds of ash that block the sun. The nights are dark and cold, and often rainy. Winter is approaching, so the pair are traveling south, where they hope it will be warmer. They find just enough canned food in abandoned houses and underground bunkers to keep themselves alive. We are not told what happened to destroy the world, but there is evidence of massive fires, rumblings of earthquakes, and the possibility of volcanic eruptions. The relationship between the father and son is the most hopeful part of this sad, melancholy tale; it is one of genuine love, caring, and trust. As I read, I hoped that there would be a good outcome for them, but feared that there wouldn't be.
