Just finished watching the movie The Road, based on the novel of the same name by Cormac McCarthy. My friend Terry Grignon recommended this movie in his blog some time ago, but I kind of put off seeing it because (1) I read the book and loved it and was devastated for a long time after that; and (2) Dan doesn’t like depressing movies.

But Cormac McCarthy is probably my favorite of all living American writers, so the movie couldn’t be put off forever.  And then of course the movie, like the book, like all things Cormac McCarthy, exists on many different levels, and not all of them are devastating.

So Dan left after about twenty minutes of watching grim and grimmer, and I didn’t argue. There were times I wanted to leave, too. But then there were the times that (despite the feeling I was watching the Viewers’ Digest condensed version) Cormac McCarthy’s fine writing shown through. The total love of the man for the boy illuminated the entire movie–as it did the book. And the boy’s inherent goodness.