Doomsday

Last week, I wrote about dreams, and how the father denied himself the escape offered by good dreams, instead preferring nightmares, or better yet, reality. In this week’s reading I was again struck by the father’s refusal to let go of his chokehold on reality, this time by refusing to relive good memories.

The father in The Road strives not to remember. “He thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins…So be sparing. What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not” (McCarthy 131).

I think the father’s reluctance to remember is more than just concern for the origins of the memory. If he allows himself to be distracted by a memory, even for a second, it could be fatal.  This, I think, is why he leaves the mother’s picture in the road – to remember her would be to damage her even further, but more importantly, would damage himself.

In The Albertine Notes, the junkies are forever chasing good memories, looking for relief from life after the bomb. Either that, or they’re trying to jump into the future, desperately seeking to experience something, anything, other than the present. By using Albertine, they’re destroying their ability to remember, but they don’t care about the forgetting, the “brownout” in their brains caused by the drug (Moody 181-183).

The concept articulated by McCarthy, above, that remembering something inevitably causes the memory itself to change, is the basis of Moody’s ahistorical remembering phenomenon. If the act of recollection can change one’s experience of a memory (becoming numb to a painful experience, a first impression colored by the ensuing relationship, etc.) why stop there? Why not be able to change the very reality that created the memory in the first place?

The Road is a very emotionally gripping book and, at many times, I was tempted to put it down because the images were too gruesome, the lack of compassion forced upon the characters because of a need to survive was hard to read, and the utter hopelessness of their situation was too much to bear. As I mentioned last week, I believe that it was inhumane for the father to keep his son alive under these circumstances and that suicide would have been the most compassionate and rational thing to do. However, after reading the end of this story, I am not so sure if I agree with what I said last week.  Perhaps, when faced with adversity, we do have to do everything to make sure we survive because we never know when things might start getting better or if all hope is absolutely lost. Maybe, if all humans responded to catastrophe by committing suicide, the human race would have died out eons ago. Responding to this crisis in the way that this man and his son did, by taking “the Road” and by not giving up, they are doing their part to continue humanity. Although there may no one left to appreciate the struggle that the father, son, and those like them went through at the end of this ordeal, this may have been the “right” thing to do. They are carrying “the light” even if their dreams may not be attainable because they have not given up on the hope for a more decent life in a distant future for their descendants. I am reminded of another song by Regina Spektor called “Apres Moi” which contains the line “‘I’m not my own, it’s not my choice” (although the song is not explicit, I believe that it is talking about suicide). Perhaps, suicide is selfish, even in this situation, because it is robbing potential offspring from a life. In the end of this story, there is hope because  the son from “the Road” and a young girl have been brought together: I almost believe that the father’s sacrifice may have been worthwhile. Finally, although I agree with Simone that the ending is a bit lackluster, I am not really sure if the story could really end in any other way (in my opinion, having both the son and the father die would have been a waste of the reader’s time and having the father live would have been too happy an ending for this book).

This week, I was intrigued by the difference between coping methods in the post-apocalyptic worlds of The Albertine Notes and The Road. Everyone in The Albertine Notes seems consumed by escapism. The junkies are obsessed with using the drug, the dealers are obsessed with selling the drug, and even the Resistance movement is singlemindedly fighting in the past and the future to stop the spread of the drug. No one, it seems, is very interested in rebuilding present-day Manhattan, or even moving away from the wasteland and starting over.

I get this. When everything falls apart (even on a non-apocalyptic scale), it’s tempting to hide under the covers, self-medicate with drugs, alcohol, or food, obsess over controlling the little things, and refuse to acknowledge reality.

What I don’t understand is, in The Road, the father’s total rejection of the comfort of his dreams. He is living in a terrible, horrible, post-apocalyptic world, and he is “learning how to wake himself” from dreams of a world with flowering forests, birds, and bright blue skies. He mistrusts good dreams, believing “the right dreams for a man in peril were dreams of peril and all else was the call of languor and of death” (McCarthy 18).

I understand he has a responsibility to his son, and he can’t afford to get lost in a dream world, but I find it hard to believe that the best solution is to sleep with only nightmares for company. In a world where every-day waking life is a nightmare, wouldn’t it be more beneficial (to maintain humanity, sanity, hope, etc.) to take solace in whatever small comforts are available? I don’t think that’s a luxury, or too indulgent. Or is it just too much of a slippery slope?

In “The Road,” McCarthy portrays a protagonist who is resentful towards the wrathful God who created his post-apocalyptic world he has been condemned to with his son.

The nameless man and his son are wondering around a desolate, torched land trying to reach the coast. He addresses his creator: “Will I see you at the last? Have you a neck by which to throttle you? Have you a heart? Damn you eternally have you a soul? Oh God (11).” His angry plead to understand what has happen shows he has a complicated relationship with God. He seems to believe that there is a heaven that he will be going to but he’ll be extremely angry when he gets there. He’s talking to God, therefore he thinks there is a possibility that he exists. Perhaps it is a God who is a watchmaker like in Watchmen.

His relationship with God has been transformed by the atomic disaster but so has his relationship with people. We know very little about the protagonist but there is a hint that he was a doctor. Though he has taken the Hippocratic Oath he still passes by the lightning stroke man that is dying. He has rejected his role as a doctor where he is now no one but a father to his son.

The man has a sense of reverence for his son as he feels he is charged to protect him since he is the only good left in the world. He refers to his sleeping son as a “golden chalice, good to house a god (75).” While parents tend to have strong loving feelings towards their children, this relationship is more intense as they are literally each other’s world. There is another interesting scene of transferred divinity is the when the pair finds a house stocked with food. They pray and thank the people, not God, for the food that probably saved their lives.

They are living in a Godless world epitomized when the boy catches a snowflake in his hand and “watched it expired there as the last host of Christendom (16).”