I just read The Road by Cormack McCarthy in the span of about two days. The book is a post-apocalyptic, linear tale about a man, his son and a world burnt to ash. There was a movie made recently and the DVD awaits my watching. Independent of the film, however, I recommend the book to anyone who has the guts to read it (it is harrowing).
McCarthy’s coast is a stygian waste of ash and sand and cold hell. Ocean beach is no such waste, but this long exposure of the seal rocks and the evening sun has all the mood to remind me of the final chapters of The Road. The gray sea, its churn all but ash, threatens to crush what hopes drove the two to its shores.
I myself am on the road, though I hope I travel in more comfort than McCarthy’s.