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Originally Posted by Bruincoug
i'm joining this discussion late. but i have a few thoughts -- very stripped down ones.
if not "saving anyone" -- what makes the father and son any more good guys than any of the various villains they encounter? there must be more to being the "good guys" than saving others, right?
by the end of the novel, a reader becomes sympathetic and respectful of what the father has done for the son. and of the strangers who agree to take in the son. but why? what makes us appreciate the sacrifice, the hope, the unwillingness to give up of these people -- and at the same time to despise and fear others who present threats to them?
maybe the reader is forced to be sympathetic with these two, merely because they are the only characters we CAN be sympathetic with -- they are the only two we know. if so, then he presents a very tribal viewpoint, wherein "goodness" and "hope" are relative to one's own group. yet, i think there is a higher morality in the father in son, even if they do not or refuse to attempt to save chained-up others.
as usual, mccarthy touches on fate, the everpresence of evil, the murder/bloodlust as an essential aspect of humanity, but also of the more tender desire to shield the innocent from each of those things -- that the desire to nurture hope despite all of those things is somehow good or necessary (or at least can be). shield may not be the best word, though -- the father must explain the violence and depravity of the world to his son -- because he cannot shield his son from it forever. but somehow tempering the exposure to evil/fate/depravity. and explaining it, in a way that father and son seem above it, comes across to us as love.
maybe, mccarthy does the same to the reader -- nurtures my hope as i read -- exposes me steadily to evil/fate/depravity, but does so in a way that i can attempt to understand or overcome it, e.g. by finding some superior or moral in the father's love for his son.
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Nice insights. The hard fact that distinguishes father and son from the other surviving humans except the strangers at the end of the story is that father and son are not killers, not cannibals. They prefer death, if it would come to that, to raising a hand as predators against their fellow humans. The Road teaches that resort to murder and cannibalism to survive is our nature, which we must overcome by virtue. This novel is a powerful rejoiner to Nietzche, who condemned Christianity as going against nature with its central doctrine that the meek are most blessed, and the last shall be the first, i.e., " the wretched alone are the good; the poor, impotent, lowly alone are the good; the suffering, deprived, sick, ugly alone are pious, alone are blessed by God, blessedness is for them alone --and you, the powerful and noble, are on the contrary the evil, the cruel, the lustful, the insatiable, the godless to all eternity; and you shall in all eternity the unblessed, accursed, and damned!"
In the Road, father and son rebel against nature, follow their ingrained Christian outlook, and win our sympathy.