I have finished reading it, turned in my MWDS(finally), and --shocker-- finished my essay(On time?!What is this madness?! ...don't expect exceptional quality.), so I feel I can safely say that I'm officially and permanently done with The Road. Praise the holy Lord almighty, I'm done with this book. Reading it, I felt as if I should have enjoyed the intricate imagery, I should have enjoyed the unique writing style and how the lack of grammar emphasized the loss of humanity and civilization, and I should have enjoyed the twisted, emotional story of the father and son (it's kind of....my thing?), yet...nope. Nada. No enjoyment. I appreciate and perhaps even admire McCarthy's writing, but I in no way enjoy it. It felt so... repetitive and drab. I would read a passage and not be certain if I had read it already. I would read about the people dying and being eaten and...not care. When did I become such a harsh critic? I haven't read a book that I enjoyed in... months, at least. Am I simply not the book lover I was back in middle school? Have I just grown cynical due to the over-all "over-it" feeling I have about school now-a-days? Am I simply too unsympathetic to like characters, and their stories by default? I used to love anything different, twisted and emotional, or simply...beautifully written. For some reason or another, my tastes have changed. Did anyone encounter similar thoughts when reading this book?
If anyone reads this, would you please recommend me a book? Something either funny or gut-wrenching, and absolutely no cheesy romance ( I swear if I see one more book with a love triangle with mythical creatures...I just might cry. Or hit my head on a wall).
Also, Mr. Mullins, would you please put in my late/makeup blogs I did last week? My grade could really use it...
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