I Just Don't Get It
I just finished The Road by Cormac McCarthy. I know the guy is a great writer. Oprah loved him and The Road. I think it won the National Book Award. I didn’t get it. Future, bleak, love of a father and son. Blah, blah, blah, cannibals, bad people, hungry. It made Angela’s Ashes look like a whacky comedy. I love futuristic, speculative fiction. I love stories of fathers and sons. I just thought it was the same beat for two hundred and fifty pages. Holy crap I’m depressed even telling you about it.
And:
Last I tried to slog through Atlas Shrugged. Wow, I don’t have the words. Who is John Galt? Who freakin’ cares? I made to page 50 and felt like I had climbed Everest. Life’s too short. Atlas Shrugged is too long. Communists bad, capitalists good. Government has no role in regulation. There, that’s Jim’s cliff notes of Atlas Shrugged.
Mine was the reverse: Got through Atlas, wanted to pound my head with a ballpeen hammer with McCarthy and abandoned it just about fifty pages in.
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