Why do I do this to myself?
I just finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy.
For those of you unfamiliar, it is not at all a happy story. It is set in a scorched, post apocalyptic world and centers around two characters: A man and his young boy who are clinging to survival in a dead world. I could not put this thing down. Every page was sad. Every chapter full of despair and hopelessness. I finished it in two days. I had to see who was going to make it out alive. My life is no better having read this book. I am quite sad and depressed. I feel mentally exhausted. I look at my children and wonder What If. I feel a pang of guilt when I turn on the faucet and clean cold (or hot) water comes out. I am deeply saddened when throwing out things the characters would be so very happy to even have a scrap of.
I know that these things are what make this book so well written. I felt everything the characters felt. I became very emotionally invested in them. The scenes in the book were laid out beautifully and clearly. Did I mention this book won a Pulitzer?
This has happened before. Angela's Ashes and We Were the Mulvaneys also left me feeling empty and sad inside. You would think I I would have learned my lesson. As I was devouring The Road last night Richard told me over and over to stop reading it and walk away. He knew how it would make me feel.
I doubt I will ever learn my lesson, but I do need something more uplifting to tide me over until the next installment in my beloved Pendragon series comes out in paperback.
Does anyone have any suggestions?