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Published byAlfred Brelsford Modified over 10 years ago
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At the heart of most people exists hope and love. I would do anything, including murder, to protect the ones I love. If the world as we know it was destroyed, and I was still alive, I would do my best to survive. Apocalyptic writing focuses on the end of days.
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Presented by Ms. Durland
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Author Background Novel’s Plot Setting Characters Conflict Resolution Symbolism Writing Style Theme Recommendations & Final Thoughts
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July 20, 1933 eldest son of six changed name, after an Irish king 1937, Knoxville, Tennessee University of Tennessee Left, 1953, to join the U.S. Air Force UT in 1957 Writing Career student literary magazine. Ingram-Merrill Award for creative writing early 1960s, Chicago, first novel Married a student, had one son Married twice more
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Pulitzer Prize for Fiction 2007 The Road MacArthur Fellowship 1981 Fiction National Book Award for Fiction 1992 All the Pretty Horses Guggenheim Fellowship for Creative Arts, US & Canada 1969 National Book Critics Circle Award for Fiction 1992 All the Pretty Horses Tähtivaeltaja Award 2009 The Road Quill Award for General fiction 2007 The Road
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Contemporary novelist (10), playwright, screen wright Southern Gothic, Western, Post-apocalyptic
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2006 Contemporary Fiction Drama Post-apocolytic some call it Science Fiction
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violence love morality spirituality isolation good vs. evil memory & the past strength & skill versions of reality compassion & forgiveness First Thing’s First…..
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The cannibals The woman Man struck by lightening The bad man from the truck Roadagents, the guys Ely Thief The man, the woman, the little boy
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"You wanted to know what the bad guys looked like. Now you know. It may happen again. My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand? Yes. He sat there cowled in the blanket. After a while he looked up. Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys.“ (65) Man vs. man Man vs. self “Listen to me, he said, when your dreams are of some world that never was or some world that never will be, and you're happy again, then you'll have given up. Do you understand? And you can't give up, I won't let you.” ―
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“You have to carry the fire." I don't know how to." Yes, you do." Is the fire real? The fire?" Yes it is." Where is it? I don't know where it is." Yes you do. It's inside you. It always was there. I can see it.” (234) "He slept close to his father that night and held him but when he woke in the morning his father was cold and stuff. He sat there a long time weeping..." (236).
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the primary setting highlights theme of transcendent simplicity reflects McCarthy’s sparse writing style
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Similar writing style to Ernest Hemingway minimalist straight forward descriptions of events very little punctuation, etc. focuses on what is literally happening instead of how it's written fragments show startling fact of event. Post- modernism: almost like modernism Elements of chaos, futility, pessimism, instability, loss of faith, collapse of morality, and lost sense of self -- with a futuristic twist. Reflects stripped down nature of a post apocalyptic world where everyone left is an animal. No names, no grammar rules = reflection of story Nihilism, i.e the complete annihilation of society. the degeneration of his language alludes to the degeneration of society. language becomes obsolete in the novel, people forget colors, names of birds etc.
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The clocks stopped at 1:17. A long shear of light and then a series of low concussions. He got up and went to the window. What was it? she said. He didn’t answer. He went into the bathroom and threw the lightswitch but the power was already gone. A dull rose glow in the windowglass. He dropped to one knee and raised the lever to stop the tub and then turned on both taps as far as they would go. She was standing in the doorway in her nightwear, clutching the jamb, cradling her belly in one hand. What is it? she said. What is happening? I don’t know. Why are you taking a bath? I’m not. The clocks stopped at 1:17. There was a long shear of light and then a series of low concussions. He got up and went to the window. “What was it?” she said. He didn’t answer. He went into the bathroom and threw the light switch, but the power was already gone. A dull rose glow appeared in the window glass. He dropped to one knee and raised the lever to stop the tub and then turned on both taps as far as they would go. She was standing in the doorway in her nightwear, clutching the jamb, cradling her belly in one hand. “What is it?” she said. “What is happening?” “I don’t know.” “Why are you taking a bath?” “I’m not.”
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Why do they have to do that? I dont know. Are they going to eat them? I dont know. They’re going to eat them, arent they? Yes. And we couldnt help them because then they’d eat us too. Yes. And that’s why we couldnt help them. Yes. Okay.
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Cormac McCarthy’s novel The Road speak to us about our human nature--the fire of human compassion can be all too easily extinguished when we encounter adversity.
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The Store by Thomas S. Stribling The Town by Conrad Richter The Edge of Sadness by Edwin O'Connor Elbow Room by James Alan McPherson Now in November by Josephine Winslow Johnson Early Autumn: A Story of a Lady by Louis Bromfield Guard of Honor by James Gould Cozzens The Postman by David Brin
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Let’s hope the fire of human compassion is never extinguished. While
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