The Lake, The River, The...

Today my family and I decided to take a trip to what we, and everyone else, have always called "the river." However, while we were en route to "the river" I thought to myself: why in the hell do we call it "the river" when this body of water that we are headed to is clearly and unmistakably a lake. I think that if someone were to say: "yeah, we're going to the lake this weekend", I would probably think that they were mentally retarded, and I wouldn't have the foggiest idea of what they are thinking about. Anyway, I posed this point to my parents, and they told me they thought that I was being overtly complicated; however, we came to the agreement that the proper term is "the backwaters." Why the plural? I don't know. But it sounds better than just "the backwater", even though there is just one lake. There are not a variety of lakes that make up the illustrious "backwaters", but that's not important. For everyone out there wondering: "the backwaters" is the correct term.

We hauled our two jet skis with us, and drove to the public slough in order to "put in" the jet skis, which is always my least favorite part. Inevitably, there is always a backed-up line of people who are trying to back their boats into the water, and it always feels like your are in the craziest rush against time to untie all of the lines in the attempt of letting your boat out into the water. Well the jet skis are a new purchase and I have never had the pleasure of of driving them--because my dad and brother enjoy them a bit too much--until today. Well, I was backing the boat down into the water, and my dad had counted on my brother, who road separately, to back one of the jet skis off the trailer while he backed the other one off. Like I said this process is a headache, and you also have the infinite joy of doing this while someone else is unloading right beside you and tons of bystanders are also crowded around awaiting their turn. Well, my brother did not show up in time; therefore, I hear my dad yell: "Will, give the wheel to your momma, and come back here and ride this jet ski out of the way." I was thinking: okay, he already has the jet ski in the water, it won't be that hard. Wrong. I press down on the throttle and quickly realize that the damn contraption is in reverse, and I can't figure out how to go forward. In a matter of three to four seconds I have drifted over to the adjacent boat and I hear a woman in a bikini with a fou paux on her the side of my head yell: don't hit my boat. I reach my had out to push off of her boat, and start drifting in the opposite direction--praise God, but not before I gave her the meanest damn look I could muster. Then, I finally heard my dad yell: "push the lever down to go forward". Thanks. Some instruction would have been helpful a few seconds ago. So, I pushed it down and was off towards the open water. Somehow, I managed to receive a crash course on how to drive a water ski while I almost had a crash collision with a backwater bitch, who, let me add, enjoys KFC's eleven original herbs and spices a little too much.

The rest of the day was great: we met up with the Lees, road the boat and jet skis all afternoon, and broke into people's unfinished lake houses to sneak a peak at the profress. During all of this merriment, I didn't notice how badly sunburned I had become. I got toasted--no lie, and not in the sense that I would have like to have been.

When we finally got in the car to leave, my family started talking about the incident with me and the woman, again. Apparently, when my mother went to park the car, she came back down and saw a hefty woman huffing and puffing on her boat because it would not crank. It turns out it was the same woman. All I got to say is that god don't like ugly.

The Road

I am going to be brutally honest. Before I read The Road, I found Cormac McCarthy to be one of my least favorite authors. I know, how dare I utter such; however, it was true. In high school, I tried my best to read All The Pretty Horses for AP literature, but it's one of the few books that I entirely gave up on--the only other that comes to mind is Wuthering Heights. The Bronte sisters and I are not friends. I do blame my failure on my own folly: attempting to read a descriptively poetic novel about the southwest, which was something that I could honestly care less about, especially then. However, I gave McCarthy a second try when I read No Country For Old Men. Once again, I thought that the plot was fascinatingly dark and unpredictable, but it was, for me, such a hard book to read. It had truly incredible moments, don't get me wrong, but it also sagged in sequences that made me think: I am incredibly bored. Never a good sign. The movie No Country for Old Men, on the other hand, was the best incarnation of McCarthy's work-- thanks to the Coen brothers. I would definitely recommend seeing the movie over the book.

I must admit that I begrudgingly gave Mr. McCarthy another chance--like he cares--because of not only good word of mouth buzz, but also because of the Pulitzer that he won for the novel. It was a great decision on my part. After finishing The Road, I really have no recollection of the former frustration that I had when reading his works. With the publication of The Road, Cormac McCarthy has penned a stunningly simplistic book that is both extremely frightening and truly heartbreaking. It is a masterwork: a real gem.

The post-apocalyptic south provides the setting for the journey of a father and his young son who are perpetual transients on a mission to reach the coast, where they feel that a better likelihood of food and friendly survivors exists. It is unclear what event caused the utter destruction of the majority of human life--nuclear disaster or freak natural occurrences--but a thick sheet of grey ash covers every inch of the remaining earth. The world that now exists is barren, lawless, cold, and truly bleak; an environment that begs the question: Why continue to live? Not only do the father and son have to fight the cruel elements, but they also have to travel as swiftly as possible in order to avoid possible looters and gangs of cannibals, who have resorted to feasting on other humans due to the lack of food. There journey tests the capacity of human beings to remain "human" in a world conducive to chaos and savagery.

Throughout the novel, McCarthy explores the masculine relationship between a father and son. Inspired by his own experiences with his son, McCarthy succeeds in capturing the concise, yet truthfully honest dialogue between the both the boy and his father. Their journey tests each others trust, challenges their motives, and illustrates the interesting and very atypical relationship that fathers and their sons experience. In this case, their union is not loveless by any means; however, the father's unfamiliarity with care giving and the boys' innocence make for a very touching and memorable point to chart throughout the novel.

The Road poses a couple of points that I also believe deserve attention: when left with nothing, would you be willing to help someone less fortunate, and how far would you really go to defend your family? These aren't new circumstances at all; these circumstances can be found in fundamental biblical parables that most people learn growing up, but the way that they are presented in The Road is quite refreshing.

The Road is compelling, clever, and clear. Be forewarned: You will not be able to put it down. If your are looking for quintessential McCarthy--this isn't it. However, you will laugh, cringe, and undoubtedly cry during Cormac McCarthy's latest novel that departs from his previous subject matter, yet still reinforces his title in society: one of the great living American novelists.

Here we go, yall!

It's true. I've decided to blog. I think it will be a fun venture, and a way for me to express any opinions, concerns, or comments on issues that I deem important enough to write about. However, most importantly, I am challenging myself to try and post every day--crazy, right. It will be good for me to just get my thoughts out there on a daily basis; therefore, my decision to blog.

I have to state that nothing is off limits; I will be posting on a myriad of topics: popular culture, daily life, recent books I've read, things that I find interesting, and anything else that happens to draw my attention. Simply stated: nothing is off limits. Needless to say, I'm excited.

So, with this entry as my first ever post, I will christen my blog--and the blogging world, for that matter. My, I sound quite dumb. Anyway, here it goes.