Imagining a Continuation of The Road by Cormac Mccarthy - Essay Example

Topic: Imagining a continuation of “The Road” by Cormac McCarthy The next day was Saturday and after taking his breakfast the boy sat in one corner thinking deeply about his loved ones. The father who had been his sole company in that long journey is no longer with him. The boy realized that death had been chasing him for many days. However, the good pieces of advice his father furnished him with had been so much beneficial for him. Thereupon, he decided to come back to the North of New York maybe he could meet another man that can bring him under his wings and shield him from any presupposed danger. “Maybe if I go back to the North I will forget all these awful incidents that occurred to me and put me in a hell like situation.” He could not take a notice of an elderly chasing him wherever he goes. He had not known what to expect. Around and around he went like a miserable and a dismal son who feels he is not belonging to this world. “They may kill you. They may hurt you. You have none to depend on. The North is not a good place to go to. You will be in a real jeopardy if you go there. Life is impossible in the North. You shall suffer. None is going to help you,” a sweet soft voice addressed the boy from inside. But he was determined to continue walking along the same road. Each time he walked he could remember all the sweet lovely conversations he had had with his father. He was cherishing many hopes waiting for life to smile again at his face and for the sky to irrigate his heart with much love. He had never experienced any sort of love except the one he truthfully felt for his father. “You will find her. You really will.” He was silent for a time. He listened to the cool breeze running in his broken heart forshadowing something good to happen. Something that can alter his life and bring the smile to his face again and again. To all the faces. Those who know him have all died and they could not commemorate that expected joy for which he was thirsty and hankering. “I shall require you to accept certain assurances, sonny! You have no interest in any friends. Stick to the guidelines the father has set for you. No harm is going to touch you. No harm. No harm.” After having a long sleep under the shadow of an orange tree, the boy woke up all suddenly. He noted that the sun had cast some of its beams on his body. He had dreamt that he was brought to a new world where all people are getting along with each other. A world where flowers are growing in utter peace and bees buzzing hither and thither, dancing in marvelous circles like a Persian dervish. He was most happy because the birds are still chirping above not caring about hunters’ disdain and winter’s cold rain. He walked and walked. Then his eyes fell on a large house on the opposite side, the colours vividly alive. A small garden well arranged wherein sweet roses chanted together in full harmony the eternal song of love, peace and tolerance, three values which Man missed. He had such an almost childlike quality of great enthusiasm, that youthfulness that comes from being so handsome if not much exquisite. As an affable vagabond, the boy roamed the streets. Courage and bravery were other qualities that the father has imparted to him before he passed away. He could not fear anything now. He wished he met the monster to subdue him. To recount him some tales about glory and chivalry. He loved humanity and come what might. He would continue to love it. To fight for its sake. He felt he was charged with a noble mission to put an end to all the tragic and bloody wars which man had brought to earth. As soon as he was beholding the beautiful but destroyed natural landscapes around him, some leaves of the New York Times clapped his face. “That’s all that remains from your civilized world,” the same voice whispered in his left ear. The sky was blue but some clouds were hovering above the boy as if telling him to stay cool and calm. Providence was with him along his way to the North of New York. The old and young farmers were immersed in ploughing their lands, drinking and chanting a myriad of some Indian very pleasant songs. Women brushing their hair in the Spanish fashion smiling rejoicing over the anticipated visit of the boy. They had a fervent feeling that someday he will come back and he will bring with him welfare with all its manifold forms. Special of the new world where the son abruptly found himself is that it is devoid of injustice and misery. All seem to coexist despite the huge differences in colour, race and faith. These kinsfolk resolved then to make a statue for him on the entry of the city as a token of thankfulness and recognition. He was a credit to these people not because he set off for the South but because he was believing in some moral values every mortal has to incorporate. Definitely, he was the most cultivated and the most courageous of all boys of his age. He instilled love into the hearts of those who love him and sacrificed the cheap and the expensive for their benefit. For that alone, the kids would intend him day and night for picking up some skills of bravery and chivalry. They knew that the boy was not like any other boy given the hardships and the numerous hurdles he endured during the first journey. “Such adventures are what we lack. It is not easy to be like him,” murmured one of the kids to his fellows. “Tell us more about the South and your terrific adventures. We want to know what happened exactly. Were you the only survivor from it? Where is your father?” The kids’ questions kept hammering in the boy’s mind. He succumbed to silence and started to recall the bad past again. And deep sorrow covered his lovely face. This creative response indeed serves as a continuation for The Road, a novel that is attributed to McCarthy. It is an original piece of writing in that it illustrates a new facet of the boy’s life and a novel journey he underwent immediately after losing his father. Though the style is not the same given the great professionalism of McCarthy with respect to the usage of narrative techniques, but it should be pointed here that I was inspired by the novel to come up with such a story. Meanwhile, I tried my best not to insert any punctuation only when necessary to because the creative response is laden with rest and comfort, two elements which the boy found. As for the setting, it is not the same because the story is going to take place in the North of New York; hence the allusion to the great positive metamorphosis which the protagonist is going to undergo. Throughout the novel, the reader will notice the countless souvenirs and flashbacks of the father driving him again to his childhood and to the days when he would fish with his uncle. He would also recall his dear wife that has cast her anger at the terrible circumstance in which she found herself. In this respect, it should be underlined that the wife has put an end to her life because she could not stand living in such a very horrible world, leaving her not only gloomy but also so dreary. This wife is not omnipresent in the creative response since we are before a boy who is still young and unmarried. But the image of the woman is kept in order not to make the whole creative response male-centered. This is meant to introduce a romantic dimension to the creative response and, henceforth, catch the attention of the potential audience. In the same vein, the father would also recall some pleasant dreams that have made him feel over the moon for awhile. He was so much obsessed by the idea of death and oftentimes, he was thinking about his sole and forlorn son, who might be worse off in case the father dies. Added to this is that the father was too much worried about the nameless danger he and his son have to grapple with. This indeed explains why the two were carrying a single gun with some bullets to stand up to any potential enemy that is more likely to devour other survivors. By contrast, in the creative response, we seem to face a new being who is keeping much faith in peace and human tenets. He has no gun and no sword, but he is upholding much bravery and human sense. Last but not least, we can venture that Cormac McCarthy’s novel incarnates a very special and an unmistakable prose style. In some ways, this style is akin to that of poetry given the dictions employed, the kind of rhythm that pervades throughout the novel and the minute descriptions which the author provides from time to time. This is actually what I tried to subsume in the creative response to make it very poetic owing to the expressive images and lexes that highly impressed me as a reader. To crown it all, The Road absolutely remains one of the most revealing books I’ve ever read. McCarthy has been indeed so much creative in it not in the portrayal of the characters but in the kind of plot he managed to come up with at the end of the novel. Read More