The Road - Cormac McCarthy If Eskimos have 16 words for snow, McCarthy has about 300 pages worth of words for gray drab. This is not necessarily a criticism. McCarthy paints his portrait of post-apocalyptic Earth vividly. At least, as vividly as one can paint shades of gray.

When I hear people talk about their appreciation for a painting because they recognize the talent in the brushstrokes, that's what I thought about reading The Road. Clearly, McCarthy's writing talent is seen in his ability to convey the world he's envisioning. But I have difficulty appreciating the canvas. The plot is lacking. Considerably. This is a tale of wandering with no destination. Consequently, it becomes a story with no plot. Some may say that it contains subtleties that warrant the overwhelming praise the book has received. But those subtleties are too subtle for me.

One may also say that there is a message of hope in this book. A message that's supposed to shine through the darkness of this world. I didn't see it. To me, it's an attempt at literary chiaroscuro without the chiaro.

Sidenote: Apparently English has 22 lexemes for "snow". Take that, Eskimo.