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The Road is the literary equivalent of a collection of black and white photography:
Think post-apocalyptic Ansel Adams.

The action as the book develops seemed purposely repetitive, attempting to coax the reader into a hypnotic, trance-like state. It worked on me. I read the book in two sittings, captured by the possibilities within this elusive grey landscape, lovely in its terrible bleakness.

Effective and penetrating at its best, a bit illogical at its worst, The Road was a unique take on the post-apocalyptic theme. Although I wanted to love this book, and in some ways I did, there were a number of breaches of logic that were almost too much. In a lesser book, these moments would have caused me to stop reading it altogether. I understand the characters were under unimaginable stress, but there were a few moments when I was yelling at the book like it was a bad late-night horror movie: “Grab the boots!” and “Don’t leave the food!” are the most memorable of those.

One thing I have to mention is the issue of time. It drew me out of the book multiple times, even as engrossed as I was. A lot of the discussions between the father and son, as well as some of the decisions they made on their journey, seemed to me the kind of conversations, ideas and actions that would occur at the beginning of their journey, in their transition into this strange, post-apocalyptic world. But they’ve been on the road for years. What should have been routine seemed new to them too often. This I would excuse from a new writer, but one of America’s greatest? Maybe an editor should have spoken up.

Conclusion: Though flawed, overall I found it poetic, a journey well worth taking.

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