Wednesday, October 25, 2006
The Road
I read the The Road by Cormac McCarthy just recently and I was stunned by how beautiful it was, despite the fact that it's about a blasted America in the midst of nuclear winter. His writing has always had the apocalyptic element and he has finally served up the Apocalypse directly. I wonder what else he has in mind, because I can't help feeling that this is the novel toward which all of his previous fiction has been headed. It even ends with a sliver of hope. It seems like a farewell, a very stark benediction, though I hope that's not the case. It's a novel you keep thinking about. I loaned it to friends and look forward to talking to them about it too.
And speaking of the road, we've been traveling recently. In Birmingham, we saw Eric Clapton last weekend. He was great, but he seemed more the elder statesman generously pushing forward two youngsters in his band, both very fine guitarists. Why does everyone seem to be performing their farewells these days? Perhaps it's a sign of the times. Having been bombarded with the combined idiocy of election ads for weeks now, it does sometimes seem like the End of the World is upon us. It's as if all the stupidest and lamest people in the country were suddenly interested in governing. Oh, dear, I just broke my own rule in only writing about "what makes the world a better place," which would explain the long gaps between posts.
Moving right along...I'm currently reading my first novel by Kazuo Ishiguro, When We Were Orphans. I'm about half way in and realizing my narrator is very unreliable, which is always fun. It also has an old-fashioned Wilkie Collins thing going on.
Last, but not least, hubby and I have front row seats for Barenaked Ladies in Columbus. We're very excited, and I'm also looking forward to checking out the wine/food scene there since we're going up for the weekend. The new BNL has a nice, easy vibe to it. It doesn't seem as thematic as some of the other albums, particularly Maroon, in which all the songs seem to hang together like a collection of short stories. But because of the way it's been released, I don't think it is intended to be otherwise. I particularly like "Home" and "Peterborough and the Kawarthas," which is lovely. "Wind It Up" is the best song no one is playing on the radio. Oh, well. Radio is so ten-minutes-ago.
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Cormac McCarthy
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