Monday, June 30, 2008
That's it.
That's it--that's all time will allow. I am sorry if it was afield of the rest of the comments here. Hopefully, I can join a discourse later on. For now, it's Heart of Darkness and Cry, The Beloved Country. I'll check in on you guys though. Joey D
Andy's second post
Andy:
the end did not seem "happy" nor discontinuous to me: it was perfect poetry; the only way it could have been. remember when we (i think it was you and i and RED?) watched a silly movie called Requiem for a Dream? we talked about how it was in some ways the opposite of most Hollywood crap: instead of slathering out gloss and overcoming pre-packaged adversity for the hero to somehow pull it off in the true "happy ending", RFAD showed utter depravity and hopelessness -- leaving you feeling the same sense of junk emptiness afterwards. real human experience is always so much more nuanced, subtle.
of course the Road is hardly subtle, but...
the end did not seem "happy" nor discontinuous to me: it was perfect poetry; the only way it could have been. remember when we (i think it was you and i and RED?) watched a silly movie called Requiem for a Dream? we talked about how it was in some ways the opposite of most Hollywood crap: instead of slathering out gloss and overcoming pre-packaged adversity for the hero to somehow pull it off in the true "happy ending", RFAD showed utter depravity and hopelessness -- leaving you feeling the same sense of junk emptiness afterwards. real human experience is always so much more nuanced, subtle.
of course the Road is hardly subtle, but...
My second post
Joey D:
At long last, I have found a moment to comment further on the novel. Andy, I shared your tears after writing the above comment and after then talking to my colleague about the book. It is a great book and I will recommend it again and again, I know.
The happy ending, about which I was unsure, is necessary to the book and therefore part of its greatness. I generally appreciate tragedies more, as you know, but this book had to come through just as we all must come through Lear or Heart of Drakness, etc., and it does not weaken or strangle us in our own task for doing so (not unlike Shakespeare's endings). Why is this so? After all, it's hardly a "happy" ending--the father dies without seeing his greatest, his only hope realized (and it is his story, after all)--and even the small family that adopts the boy is hardly sufficient counterbalance to the horror and ghastly reality they will all continue to inhabit. I would have to look back through the book to see if the ending is less contrived than it at first seemed, but perhaps you could help me there, Andy: are there hints or foreshadows that might keep the shotgun guy at the end from breaking continuity? In any case, it is the father's end that matters most, and it is as profound an ending as any literature can offer. This is why the son's ending, however necessary, does not sully or mitigate the novel's power to move.
What of it's literary merits, by which I mean its symbolic power--its resonance. The books breaks the whole world down to its most basic elements, and nothing is allowed to interfere on confuse: father and son (perhaps, mother and son or father and daughter would be more basic, in another, less literary sense) on a road through oblivion. Here, the father, never named, is all parenthood, the son, also never named, is all hope. Son and father together are thus the full breadth of humanity--experience, with memories as substantial as dreams, and innocence, wondrous even in inordinate darkness, and with a core of kindness (perhaps the son's empathy and kindness is extraordinary--I don't believe that, but the hope for a son's empathy and kindness is not all that rare). The road becomes Life and oblivion is the ultimate perspective or the last meaning.
Now, of course, the book isn't allegory and its relationship to the reader can and should be less "literary," but the potential is there. Perhaps the most awful of all the scenes is one that is only implied: the woman who gives birth to the child only to put it immediately on a spit to save herself and her two companion from starvation. We don't need to understand that symbolically. We can feel it, ourselves, inside and throughout, whether as parents or children.
The trope of God is interesting to follow. You have the boy's prayer (tied to gratefulness) before the bomb shelter meal. Then, you have Ely's "God goes as man goes" and "I would hate to have to witness the death of the last god" (something like that, anyway). And finally, you have the boy's adoptive mother who tell him that "God is the breath between men" (again, something like that--I don't have the book with me). The danger with God in literature is that it minimizes the tragedy and thus also the profundity of man. As Kaufmann says, reflecting on Marlowe's Dr. Faustus, there can be no Christian tragedy--which is to say, there is no tragedy in the reception into a second life, even if it weren't as perfect as Christians imagine it could be. Tragedy necessitates that all the meaning of the world is for this world only, contained within the life that shapes it. Value beyond it reduces its meaning or profundity, which is why Nietzsche often referred to the Judeo-Christian theologians as nihilists. But here--let's get back to McCarthy--in The Road, God is contained in the world and as vulnerable as it--God is community and the hope it espouses--God is humanity (what distinguishes the "good" guys from the "bad"--the cannibals). "The Fire" that the boy represents is God's task, assigned to each and all. There's nothing otherworldly or phantasmagoric in this concept, and that is why it works--why it's reconcilable with the father's tragedy.
At long last, I have found a moment to comment further on the novel. Andy, I shared your tears after writing the above comment and after then talking to my colleague about the book. It is a great book and I will recommend it again and again, I know.
The happy ending, about which I was unsure, is necessary to the book and therefore part of its greatness. I generally appreciate tragedies more, as you know, but this book had to come through just as we all must come through Lear or Heart of Drakness, etc., and it does not weaken or strangle us in our own task for doing so (not unlike Shakespeare's endings). Why is this so? After all, it's hardly a "happy" ending--the father dies without seeing his greatest, his only hope realized (and it is his story, after all)--and even the small family that adopts the boy is hardly sufficient counterbalance to the horror and ghastly reality they will all continue to inhabit. I would have to look back through the book to see if the ending is less contrived than it at first seemed, but perhaps you could help me there, Andy: are there hints or foreshadows that might keep the shotgun guy at the end from breaking continuity? In any case, it is the father's end that matters most, and it is as profound an ending as any literature can offer. This is why the son's ending, however necessary, does not sully or mitigate the novel's power to move.
What of it's literary merits, by which I mean its symbolic power--its resonance. The books breaks the whole world down to its most basic elements, and nothing is allowed to interfere on confuse: father and son (perhaps, mother and son or father and daughter would be more basic, in another, less literary sense) on a road through oblivion. Here, the father, never named, is all parenthood, the son, also never named, is all hope. Son and father together are thus the full breadth of humanity--experience, with memories as substantial as dreams, and innocence, wondrous even in inordinate darkness, and with a core of kindness (perhaps the son's empathy and kindness is extraordinary--I don't believe that, but the hope for a son's empathy and kindness is not all that rare). The road becomes Life and oblivion is the ultimate perspective or the last meaning.
Now, of course, the book isn't allegory and its relationship to the reader can and should be less "literary," but the potential is there. Perhaps the most awful of all the scenes is one that is only implied: the woman who gives birth to the child only to put it immediately on a spit to save herself and her two companion from starvation. We don't need to understand that symbolically. We can feel it, ourselves, inside and throughout, whether as parents or children.
The trope of God is interesting to follow. You have the boy's prayer (tied to gratefulness) before the bomb shelter meal. Then, you have Ely's "God goes as man goes" and "I would hate to have to witness the death of the last god" (something like that, anyway). And finally, you have the boy's adoptive mother who tell him that "God is the breath between men" (again, something like that--I don't have the book with me). The danger with God in literature is that it minimizes the tragedy and thus also the profundity of man. As Kaufmann says, reflecting on Marlowe's Dr. Faustus, there can be no Christian tragedy--which is to say, there is no tragedy in the reception into a second life, even if it weren't as perfect as Christians imagine it could be. Tragedy necessitates that all the meaning of the world is for this world only, contained within the life that shapes it. Value beyond it reduces its meaning or profundity, which is why Nietzsche often referred to the Judeo-Christian theologians as nihilists. But here--let's get back to McCarthy--in The Road, God is contained in the world and as vulnerable as it--God is community and the hope it espouses--God is humanity (what distinguishes the "good" guys from the "bad"--the cannibals). "The Fire" that the boy represents is God's task, assigned to each and all. There's nothing otherworldly or phantasmagoric in this concept, and that is why it works--why it's reconcilable with the father's tragedy.
My first post
Joey D:
Just finished. It was great. I don't have the time presently to comment on it much, but I plan to do so soon. I will say that it was powerful. Intense and emotionally moving. I am not a father, but I appreciated the literary effect of a father and son, who was born at the outset of the apocalypse, traveling the road. I appreciated the attempt at purpose beyond all purpose and the conclusion of God in relationships. Where I was moved as a parent, though, it was vicarious, and it was mainly through you, Andy, and Jonah (--what a time to have read this book!). I am still sitting with the ending fresh in my head, trying to decide whether it was lackluster or not. There were also, as there were in Blood Meridian, parts that SEEMED to stretch on unnecessarily. Want to reflect on that a bit with someone. Perhaps, it emphasized the pointlessness better. That said, it was much more than enjoyable--intellectually enjoyable. Highlights, in brief: all conversations, all refrains (okay, good guys, God, memory, hiding, and most especially, the fire), macabre scenes, "you put it in your mouth and point it up," Ely...
Shit, the more I think about it, the better that book becomes. Great! Let's talk more...
Just finished. It was great. I don't have the time presently to comment on it much, but I plan to do so soon. I will say that it was powerful. Intense and emotionally moving. I am not a father, but I appreciated the literary effect of a father and son, who was born at the outset of the apocalypse, traveling the road. I appreciated the attempt at purpose beyond all purpose and the conclusion of God in relationships. Where I was moved as a parent, though, it was vicarious, and it was mainly through you, Andy, and Jonah (--what a time to have read this book!). I am still sitting with the ending fresh in my head, trying to decide whether it was lackluster or not. There were also, as there were in Blood Meridian, parts that SEEMED to stretch on unnecessarily. Want to reflect on that a bit with someone. Perhaps, it emphasized the pointlessness better. That said, it was much more than enjoyable--intellectually enjoyable. Highlights, in brief: all conversations, all refrains (okay, good guys, God, memory, hiding, and most especially, the fire), macabre scenes, "you put it in your mouth and point it up," Ely...
Shit, the more I think about it, the better that book becomes. Great! Let's talk more...
Andy's first post
Below, guys, are posts that my friend Andy and I shared before you guys got started over here. I don't have time to post anything new, unfortunately, though I would be eager to join the current discussion (Sam and I, for instance, don't have the same read of Nietzsche, and that would be fun to pursue). Cest la vi. Here's what Andy and I have posted, one at a time:
Andy: well i took my break from the USA Trilogy, and picked up Cormac McCarthy's The Road. no idea what i was in for.
i'd heard good things about the book, but i wasn't crazy about All the Pretty Horses -- the only other book i'd read of his, nor the movie of No Country for Old Men, which i'd seen recently. well, this one got me. just absolutely killed me. i've been twisted up and moved, but i don't think i've ever wept while reading a book before.
it reads that way, but i sat down with it for the first time and looked up 100 pages later. couldn't stop reading it, and i read the last few pages over and over. the book dominated my thoughts for a few days afterwards -- made me pause in the middle of work.
i'll say that being a father with my own personal circumstances, and my boy across the country from me for the days while i read it, made me especially susceptible and raw. but i believe the book would move anyone just as well.
i was also curious to note, just fliipping through the wikipedia article, George Monbiot heaping such praise on it from an environmental perspective. the "environmental" angle of the book, the interrelatedness of all life on the planet, was striking, though i wouldn't have guessed that activists would raise it up as a thing that "could save the planet".
do read this before it's made into a movie.
Andy: well i took my break from the USA Trilogy, and picked up Cormac McCarthy's The Road. no idea what i was in for.
i'd heard good things about the book, but i wasn't crazy about All the Pretty Horses -- the only other book i'd read of his, nor the movie of No Country for Old Men, which i'd seen recently. well, this one got me. just absolutely killed me. i've been twisted up and moved, but i don't think i've ever wept while reading a book before.
it reads that way, but i sat down with it for the first time and looked up 100 pages later. couldn't stop reading it, and i read the last few pages over and over. the book dominated my thoughts for a few days afterwards -- made me pause in the middle of work.
i'll say that being a father with my own personal circumstances, and my boy across the country from me for the days while i read it, made me especially susceptible and raw. but i believe the book would move anyone just as well.
i was also curious to note, just fliipping through the wikipedia article, George Monbiot heaping such praise on it from an environmental perspective. the "environmental" angle of the book, the interrelatedness of all life on the planet, was striking, though i wouldn't have guessed that activists would raise it up as a thing that "could save the planet".
do read this before it's made into a movie.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Is This Story the Wet Dream of Nietzsche?
This is a story of the Good Guys vs. the Bad Guys and morality in a world that has none. It is an unforgiving world, that is gloomfully working towards the idea of literally being Beyond Good and Evil. There is no tangible God. Only systems of value (and in the world of The Road, even that is deteriorating quickly). At the end of the day, both Nietzsche and McCarthy believe that there is still something inherently valuable in their ideologically paralleled and lost versions of the world. For Nietzsche it was to be passionate, to live in the moment and to live artistically and for McCarthy it was to have hope and to live “artistically” in the moment in order to survive. (For McCarthy there definitely exists the art of survival. This is a topic for another blog.) For both of them this is all we really have. It is a choice about “how to live.” Either way (and for both of them) there is existential passion and hope despite the lack of reason. This is their middle ground and at the heart of this debate.
I had a dream that Nietzsche was McCarthy’s father. They were traveling down the road in a horse carriage prior to the apocalypse. Nietzsche looked down at his adorable little boy Cormac. Twirling his mustache he winked at Cormac and they both shared a moment, that was “in the moment” where they both knew better. Then the carriage stopped because one of the horses was acting like a fucking jackass. Nietzsche got out to find the carriage driver disgustedly whipping the horse. Nietzsche demanded him to stop and then he fell to knees breaking down into tears. Cormac watched from the window of the carriage and had a deeper idea of what it meant to be a good guy in a world that was Beyond Good and Evil. He knew that he would have to carry this fire into a more hopeless and bleak future.
- Thus Spoke Sam Zarathustra DeStefano
P.S. Does anyone have any good internet sources for professional literary criticism?
P.S.S. I would like to welcome Earthboy to the party. It’s good to have you Earthboy!
I had a dream that Nietzsche was McCarthy’s father. They were traveling down the road in a horse carriage prior to the apocalypse. Nietzsche looked down at his adorable little boy Cormac. Twirling his mustache he winked at Cormac and they both shared a moment, that was “in the moment” where they both knew better. Then the carriage stopped because one of the horses was acting like a fucking jackass. Nietzsche got out to find the carriage driver disgustedly whipping the horse. Nietzsche demanded him to stop and then he fell to knees breaking down into tears. Cormac watched from the window of the carriage and had a deeper idea of what it meant to be a good guy in a world that was Beyond Good and Evil. He knew that he would have to carry this fire into a more hopeless and bleak future.
- Thus Spoke Sam Zarathustra DeStefano
P.S. Does anyone have any good internet sources for professional literary criticism?
P.S.S. I would like to welcome Earthboy to the party. It’s good to have you Earthboy!
If I Were Patrick Swayze
Thanks for not posting any spoilers Roy! As for the situation with your boys, you may want to save that story for your Dr. Phil episode. Just kidding! I think Dr. Phil would have to do a week special on my family. It is incredible though how this book has hit me as the father of a 4 ½ year old boy.
I like your idea that No Authority = Freedom. And what is this freedom? This freedom is arguably a part of the fantasy. It is the freedom and/or fantasy to have no meaning. No meaning outside of survival. I can’t help but imagining myself as the father (the John Wayne or Patrick Swayze figure) forging a hopeful future out of nothing for my son. It is the duty of our very existence to try despite our ultimate and natural destiny. I devoured the book based on this idea. The idea and fantasy of being more than nothing. The idea of “giving” this to my son because it is the greatest gift.
The idea of giving this gift is something that could be thought of as sadly impossible and finally just a fantasy. Or is it? It makes me extremely emotional and ultimately happy just to imagine the possibility. Like catching a shooting star in the corner of your eye, I would argue that the ending is perfect because the father’s journey, for a moment, was given meaning as a flash of brilliance in a sky that was no longer there.
I like your idea that No Authority = Freedom. And what is this freedom? This freedom is arguably a part of the fantasy. It is the freedom and/or fantasy to have no meaning. No meaning outside of survival. I can’t help but imagining myself as the father (the John Wayne or Patrick Swayze figure) forging a hopeful future out of nothing for my son. It is the duty of our very existence to try despite our ultimate and natural destiny. I devoured the book based on this idea. The idea and fantasy of being more than nothing. The idea of “giving” this to my son because it is the greatest gift.
The idea of giving this gift is something that could be thought of as sadly impossible and finally just a fantasy. Or is it? It makes me extremely emotional and ultimately happy just to imagine the possibility. Like catching a shooting star in the corner of your eye, I would argue that the ending is perfect because the father’s journey, for a moment, was given meaning as a flash of brilliance in a sky that was no longer there.
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