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We are in a world transformed by bleak devastation that matches the psychological devastation of our characters, and yet it is a world in which the flame of "the fire" is kept alive with a father and son against all odds with the moral abandonment all around him. The conversations the man and the boy have together are brief, but meaningful. Both reassuring the other that everything was going to be alright. This novel shows extreme love between a father and son.

We follow the journey of a man and his boy as they make their way south to the sea in search of warmth. What landscape they are walking through, we never discover. We might guess, perhaps, the Gulf of Mexico and the Eastern United States, but there is really no evidence to support such suppositions. And if these facts are unclear, the two characters are even more unclear. They are nameless, the man is referred to only as "he," the boy is usually "the child." We discover that the man's wife committed suicide sometime after the apocalypse, but we learn nothing more about them.

There is a poetic force to the spare language which at times attains a curious beauty, and which always impels the reader through its silent emptiness with all the drive of a novel crowded with incident and colour and character.

This book is strangely emotional, dark, sad, loving and I was glad when I was done. But not. It took me way outside of my comfort zone. McCarthy's prose in this book are wonderful and you definitely get to know the characters