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Transcript of The Road
Good vs Evil
Survival and Resilience Quick Facts NAME: Cormac McCarthy
OCCUPATION: Author, Playwright
BIRTH DATE: July 20, 1933 (Age: 79)
PLACE OF BIRTH: Providence, Rhode Island
EDUCATION: University of Tennessee He was born Charles Joseph McCarthy. He is the third of six children (the eldest son) born to Charles Joseph and Gladys Christina McGrail McCarthy (he has two brothers and three sisters).He later changed his name to Cormac, meaning "son of Charles," to honor his father.Even though his childhood biography might seem to lack any defining moment or climactic event that explicitly shaped his career, there are a number of key themes in Cormac's works such as peregrination(traveling or wandering around), the human affinity for bloodshed, and father-son relationships are rooted in his formative experiences. He married Lee Holleman, with whom he had one son, Cullen McCarthy. Soon afterward, he returned to Tennessee with his wife, but the marriage dissolved. McCarthy granted an interview with Oprah Winfrey, who had chosen The Road for her Book Club. The interview took place in the library of the Santa Fe Institute.
McCarthy told Oprah that he prefers "simple declarative sentences" and that he uses capital letters, periods, an occasional comma, a colon for setting off a list, but "never a semicolon." He does not use quotation marks for dialogue and believes there is no reason to "blot the page up with weird little marks." In 2006, Alfred A. Knopf published The Road. It won the 2007 Pulitzer Prize in Literature AWARDS SUMMARY A father and his son walk alone through burned America. Nothing moves in the ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind. It is cold enough to crack stones, and when the snow falls it is gray. The sky is dark. Their destination is the coast, although they don't know what, if anything, awaits them there. They have nothing; just a pistol to defend themselves against the lawless bands that stalk the road, the clothes they are wearing, a cart of scavenged food--and each other. McCarthy married for a third time to Jennifer Winkley and they have one child, John Francis, born 1999. The McCarthys now reside in Tesque, New Mexico, on the outskirts of Santa Fe. McCarthy has taken a position as writer in residence with the Santa Fe Institute. Additional Even though The Road is about violence and gore there's a beautiful love story at its center. Throughout the book the reader can see the paternal love between the father and son. These characters care for each other with a level of self-sacrifice and compassion. LOVE DEATH The earth is already dying and covered in ashes. Most living creatures and plants have not survived the disaster that has destroyed civilization.
Also, as the novel progresses the reader becomes more aware that the man is dying. GOOD VS EVIL More than once, the boy seeks confirmation from his father that they are the "good guys" and that the "bad guys" are those who seek to hurt them--thieves, murderers, and cannibals. "Carrying the fire" is a symbol of the goodness in human perseverance and hope that the father assures his son that they carry. As a "good guy," the man and the boy carry the fire internally, meaning that they strive to live under all circumstances. VIOLENCE McCarthy portrays a post-apocalyptic landscape where the scarcity of resources has driven the few survivors to murder, thievery, and even cannibalism HOPE SURVIVAL & RESILIENCE There is strong attention to the primal instinct of human survival, what resilient people do in order to survive. These include man's efforts to use the remaining resources to survive. McCarthy focuses on the unusual behavior drawn in such circumstances. Behavior that might seem crazy in any other conditions, other than one in which people feel that they must abandon the most basic principles of morality just to stay alive. Conflict He knew only that the child was his warrant. He said: If he is not the word of God God never spoke.(5) Are we still the good guys? he said.
Yes. We're still the good guys.
And we always will be.
Yes. We always will be.
Okay.(77) We're going to be okay, arent we Papa?
Yes. We are.
And nothing bad is going to happen to us.
Because we're carrying the fire.
Yes. Because we're carrying the fire.(83) Every day is a lie, he said. But you are dying. That is not a lie. (238) "Nobody wants to be here and nobody wants to leave."(169) When we're all gone at last then there'll be nobody here but death and his days will be numbered too. He'll be out in the road there with nothing to do and nobody to do it to. He'll say: Where did everybody go?(173) MAN vs NATURE MAN vs MAN MAN vs SELF The man struggles with whether to kill himself and his son. the confrontations with the cannibals and thieves they come across There's nothing to eat, and a deadly winter is approaching. Issues I did not have any issues with the text it just pulled on my heartstrings because it seems like a very realistic or ominous event.
It was sad that the father had to die, but there was a family of "good guys" following them so the boy could continue on. It just makes you wonder what will happen to the boy? Should they still have hope? Read An Excerpt pg55-58 caused the man to question whether to keep going or commit suicide with the boy Works Cited "CormacMcCarthy.com." CormacMcCarthycom. N.p., n.d. Web. 19 May 2013. Clip Questions? Clip the protagonists still manage to hold on to some idea of hope in this every-man-for-themselves world. You can see their desire to survive through the symbolism of the road, "carrying the fire", and the boy himself. N.p., 01 June 2008. Web. 19 May 2013. "Oprah's Exclusive Interview with Cormac McCarthy - Video - Oprah.com." Oprah.com. Shmoop Editorial Team. "The Road Themes" Shmoop.com. Shmoop University, Inc., 11 Nov. 2008. Web. 19 May 2013. E.L., and M.D. "APLiteratureHP - Cormac McCarthy." APLiteratureHP - Cormac McCarthy. N.p., 2008-2009. Web. 19 May 2013. Read Along We're survivors he told her across the flame of the lamp.
Survivors? she said.
What in God's name are you talking about? We're not survivors. We're the walking dead in a horror film.
I'm begging you.
I don't care. I don't care if you cry. It doesn't mean anything to me.
I am begging you. I'll do anything.
Such as what? I should have done it a long time ago. When there were three bullets in the gun instead of two. I was stupid. We've been over all of this. I didn't bring myself to this. I was brought. And now I'm done. I thought about not even telling you. That would probably have been best. You have two bullets and then what? You can't protect us. You say you would die for us but what good is that? I'd take him with me if it weren't for you. You know I would. It's the right thing to do.
You're talking crazy.
No, I'm speaking the truth. Sooner or late they will catch us and they will kill us. They will rape me. They'll rape him. They are going to rape us and kill us and eat us and you won't face it. You'd rather wait for it to happen. But I can't. I can't. She sat there smoking a slender length of dried grapevine as if it were some kind of rare cheroot. Holding it with a certain elegance, her other hand across her knees where she'd drawn them up. She watched him across the small flame. We used to talk about death, she said. We don't any more. Why is that?
I don't know.
It's because it's here. There's nothing left to talk about.
I wouldn't leave you.
I don't care. It's meaningless. You can think of me as a faithless slut if you like. I've taken a new lover. He can give me what you cannot.
Death is not a lover.
Oh yes he is.
Please don't do this.
I can't do it alone.
Then don't. I can't help you. They say that women dream of danger to those in their care and men of danger to themselves. But I don't dream at all. You say you can't? Then don't do it. That's all. Because I am done with my own whorish heart and I have been for a long time. You talk about taking a stand but there is no stand to take. My heart was ripped out of me the night he was born so don't ask for sorrow now. There is none. Maybe you'll be good at this. I doubt it, but who knows. The one thing I can tell you is that you won't survive for yourself. I know because I would never have come this far. A person who had no one would be well advised to cobble together some passable ghost. Breathe it into being and coax it alone with words of love. Offer it each phantom crumb and shield it from harm with your body. As for me my only hope is for eternal nothingness and I hope it with all my heart. Continued He didn't answer.
You have no argument because there is none.
Will you tell him goodbye?
No. I will not.
Just wait till morning. Please.
I have to go.
She had already stood up.
For the love of God, woman. What am I to tell him?
I can't help you.
Where are you going to go? You can't even see.
I don't have to.
He stood up. I'm begging you, he said.
No. I will not. I cannot.
She was gone and the coldness of it was her final gift. She would do it with a flake of obsidian. He'd taught her himself. Sharper than steel. The edge an atom thick. And she was right. There was no argument. The hundred nights they'd sat up debating the pros and cons of self destruction with the earnestness of philosophers chained to a mad-house wall.
In the morning the boy said nothing at all and when they were packed and ready to set out upon the road he turned and looked back at their campsite and he said: She's gone isn't she?
And he said: Yes, she is.