Pulitzer Dreams

You know I read The Road by Cormac McCarthy on the way to the Associated Writing Programs in Atlanta.  While I was there, I got out of bed, The Road in my hands, to answer a text message from a friend inviting me to the bar, again.  Typical bar scene, talking fiction, I expounded on my fantasy of meeting McCarthy, my words blending with menthols.  It's not that I get much chance to love fiction, so the book has to be good. 

Over email at the hotel, I kept writing to friends, quoting lines from McCarthy.  The Pulitzer is enough, but also not enough.  I have already told people that "The Road is a book that will change your life."  I imagine the paperback version will allow you to mark it up more than I did.  I washed through the pages thirsty for more.  Post-apocalyptic, the critics call it.  I call it the father-son book that matters.

"The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities" (McCarthy 75).