Okay, Cormac McCarthy's The Road, isn't technically a horror novel. That it won a Pulitzer Prize should give that little game away. It is, however, the most horrifying entry on this entire list by a country mile. And I make that claim even in the knowledge of which depraved book Sam has dragged up from the turgid depths for tomorrow's review.
The Road is the 1984 of post-apocalyptic novels. It's a gruelling depiction of the bleakest future imaginable for humanity. A novel designed to alarm, frightening, and downright terrify the reader - unless they're one of those libertarian types who rub their knobs gleefully at the thought of being free from the yoke of the government. Even if they'd die horribly within minutes of society's collapse.
McCarthy presents us with a simple premise: the world has...(dramatic pause)...ended. Boom. Collect your shopping trolley and good fucking luck to you. But this isn't the Mad Max sort of apocalypse where, if you're a leather-clad badass, you'll basically be alright. There are no car duels, flame-thrower guitarists, midgets riding strongmen, and power-mad dictators with silly voices. We're talking about ecological annihilation on a planetary scale.
Our protagonists, a father and young son, simply referred to as The Man and The Boy, are journeying across an America suffocated by ash and littered with the corpses of once living things and cities. The Mother has done the sensible thing and offed herself some time ago. Realising the coming winter will kill them both, The Man makes the decision to head south in the hopes they will find warmth and comfort. What they do find on their journey, however, are gangs of roaming cannibals, babies roasted on spit-roasts, and sex slaves being paraded like cattle. It is for this reason The Man keeps a revolver and two rounds. Make no mistake, this book will make you want to kill your fellow man. More so than usual.
If the disturbing content isn't enough to put you off this book, then the writing style will likely provide the biggest obstacle. McCarthy's style is sparse and sparing: he says in five words what some authors might say in twenty. It's very matter of fact and without ornament, which is in keeping with the book's tone. This also gives the narrative a very staccato-like flow:
"He stood looking around the garage. A metal barrel full of trash. He went into the office. Dust and ash everywhere. The boy stood in the door. A metal desk, a cash register."
McCarthy also acts as though he was having to pay for each bit of punctuation he uses. This is most glaring during the dialogue. The dialogue is not marked out by speech marks and simply mingles into the narrative like some whore at a party. And take a shot each time someone says "okay". Congratulations, you've now died from alcohol poisoning.
With the story being set at least ten years into the post-apocalypse, McCarthy can simply waive past all the science bollocks and humanity's initial efforts to rebuild society. He's not interested in depicting humanity's valiant efforts to save itself. And he's definitely not interested in all the nerds proclaiming that, 'ackchyually', no single form of apocalypse could play out as we see here. McCarthy just posits an apocalyptic event and moves on - he's like a midnight lover disinterestedly disappearing after he's filled us with his warm jizz.
The human race is utterly fucked in this book. There's no food, shelter, warmth, medicine, or basic comforts, and the few humans who do remain are split into the categories of 'prey' and 'predator'. I'd chuck in a Brexit joke but then I'd just want to cry. McCarthy is explicitly clear that there is no way to claw back from this apocalypse. This is the end, my only friend.
But why should you, dear reader, read this book when it's so unrelentingly grim that it should have shares in the razor blade industry? Well, in a strange way this book is actually pretty life affirming. It's a masterpiece for the generation that's had to grow up with the knowledge that the world is in existential trouble. We're treated to news stories of record-breaking summers, entire species driven to extinction, the ice caps melting, and the plastic scourge killing our oceans. This book reminds us all that if we value anything on this planet we should do all we can to save our it, least this be the terrible world we one day find ourselves occupying.
And even this utterly bleak depiction of humanity is not without its hope. Yes, we're introduced to the biggest shower of bastards outside of the Trump administration, but there are also characters who remain 'good' even after years of suffering. There's the Old Man the protagonists meet who just wants to keep to himself, and thinks of The Boy as an angel. And The Man and The Boy themselves are self-described "good guys" who "carry the fire" of humanity, whilst pretty much everyone else is reduced to barbarism or dehumanised to such extreme levels.
Our protagonists discover a larder in an abandoned house which is filled to the brim with emaciated humans, who are slowly being eaten limb by limb by cannibals, and remain repulsed by the sight. Despite their own violent hunger. And whilst The Man's good guy credentials are tested as he becomes increasingly brutal, the kid retains his holier-than-thou attitude throughout. If you ever watch the excellent film adaptation of this book (starring Viggo Mortensen), prepare to have a shrill voice screeching 'Papa' over and over seared into your brain. Like a car alarm, which your neighbour refuses to turn off, bellowing outside all night.
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