The Road by Cormac McCarthy

A father and his child walk alone through burned America. Nothing moves within the desolated scene save the ash on the wind. It is cold sufficient to split stones, and when the snow falls it is gray. The sky is dim. Their goal is the coast, even though they don’t know what, on the off chance that anything, is standing by them there. They have nothing; just a gun to protect themselves against the lawless groups that stalk the road, the dress they are wearing, a cart of rummaged food—and each other. The Street is the significantly moving story of a journey. It strikingly envisions a future in which no trust remains, but in which the father and his son, “each the other’s world entire,” are sustained by cherishing. Magnificent within the totality of its vision, it is an unflinching contemplation on the worst and the most excellent that we are capable of: extreme danger, frantic constancy, and the delicacy that keeps two individuals lively within the confront of add up to demolition.