The road is a bleak, quiet place.

Cor­mac McCarthy’s Pulitzer-win­ning, Oprah-approved new nov­el The Road is almost com­i­cal­ly bleak. I hope that he keeps remind­ing us how ashen and black every­thing is, and that the night is always the dark­est night in his­to­ry. Also there are no birds. There’s a mimet­ic point being made, sure, but man is it ever being dri­ven home. It’s real­ly fuck­ing bleak. I get it.

[Book­slut’s note about Niall Grif­fith’s max­i­ma mea cul­pa still cracks me up. Try self-fla­gel­la­tion dude. It’d be easier.]