I’ve read Cormac McCarthy’s the Road – I really am rather taken with it, it is dreamlike, drearily poetic and bleak but I loved the father and son, very much so. In that bleak, dead world they are two figures who bring colour into it. The boy is meant to be more, I guess, a symbol of renewing love and forgiveness. He is decidedly opposed to his father resorting to violent means – which he does to protect the boy. Great contrast there, I thought, i loved them and felt for them. I couldn’t pick up another thing for a bit but after moping around for some 48 hours, I decided to get on with Bradbury’s The Illustrated Man.

Curious premise. A man whose skin is full of pictures that come alive at night. He has stories in them.