/lit/ - Literature

>On the outskirts of the city they came to a supermarket. A few old cars in the trashstrewn parking lot. They left the cart in the lot and walked the littered aisles. In the produce section in the bottom of the bins they found a few ancient runner beans and what looked to have once been apricots, long dried to wrinkled effigies of themselves. The boy followed behind. They pushed out through the rear door. In the alleyway behind the store a few shopping carts, all badly rusted. They went back through the store again looking for another cart but there were none. By the door were two soft drink machines that had been tilted over into the floor and opened with a prybar. Coins everywhere in the ash. He sat and ran his hand around in the works of the gutted machines and in the second one it closed over a cold metal cylinder. He withdrew his hand slowly and sat looking at a Coca Cola™.
>What is it, Papa?
>It's the Real Thing™. For you.
>What is it?
>Here. Sit down. Open Happiness™.
>He slipped the boy's knapsack straps loose and set the pack on the floor behind him and he put his thumbnail under the aluminum clip on the top of the Red, White & You™ and opened it. He leaned his nose to the slight fizz coming from America's Real Choice™ and then handed it to the boy. Go ahead, he said. Make it Real™.
>The boy took the can. It's bubbly, he said.
>Go ahead.
>He looked at his father and then tilted the can and drank. He sat there thinking about it. Can't Beat the Feeling™, he said.
>Yes. Life Tastes Good™.
>You have some, Papa.
>I want you to drink it.
>You have some.
>He took the can and Tasted the Feeling™ and handed it back. You Walk on the Coke Side of Life™, he said. Let's just sit here.
>It's because I wont ever get to Enjoy™ again, isn't it?
>Ever's a long time.
>Okay, said the boy.

This seems kind of forced to be honest. I thought McCarthy was supposed to be subtle.

>On the outskirts of the city they came to a supermarket. A few old cars in the trashstrewn parking lot. They left the cart in the lot and walked the littered aisles. In the produce section in the bottom of the bins they found a few ancient runner beans and what looked to have once been apricots, long dried to wrinkled effigies of themselves. The boy followed behind. They pushed out through the rear door. In the alleyway behind the store a few shopping carts, all badly rusted. They went back through the store again looking for another cart but there were none. By the door were two soft drink machines that had been tilted over into the floor and opened with a prybar. Coins everywhere in the ash. He sat and ran his hand around in the works of the gutted machines and in the second one it closed over a cold metal cylinder. He withdrew his hand slowly and sat looking at a Coca Cola™.
>What is it, Papa?
>It's the Real Thing™. For you.
>What is it?
>Here. Sit down. Open Happiness™.
>He slipped the boy's knapsack straps loose and set the pack on the floor behind him and he put his thumbnail under the aluminum clip on the top of the Red, White & You™ and opened it. He leaned his nose to the slight fizz coming from America's Real Choice™ and then handed it to the boy. Go ahead, he said. Make it Real™.
>The boy took the can. It's bubbly, he said.
>Go ahead.
>He looked at his father and then tilted the can and drank. He sat there thinking about it. Can't Beat the Feeling™, he said.
>Yes. Life Tastes Good™.
>You have some, Papa.
>I want you to drink it.
>You have some.
>He took the can and Tasted the Feeling™ and handed it back. You Walk on the Coke Side of Life™, he said. Let's just sit here.
>It's because I wont ever get to Enjoy™ again, isn't it?
>Ever's a long time.
>Okay, said the boy.

This seems kind of forced. I thought McCarthy was supposed to be good?

Are there any post-apocalyptic novels which come close to this masterpiece?

post-apocalyptic winter is pretty depressing desu

What does Cormac Mccarthy have against quotation mark and why is pic related written like a screenplay?

>On the outskirts of the city they came to a supermarket. A few old cars in the trashstrewn parking lot. They left the cart in the lot and walked the littered aisles. In the produce section in the bottom of the bins they found a few ancient runner beans and what looked to have once been apricots, long dried to wrinkled effigies of themselves. The boy followed behind. They pushed out through the rear door. In the alleyway behind the store a few shopping carts, all badly rusted. They went back through the store again looking for another cart but there were none. By the door were two soft drink machines that had been tilted over into the floor and opened with a prybar. Coins everywhere in the ash. He sat and ran his hand around in the works of the gutted machines and in the second one it closed over a cold metal cylinder. He withdrew his hand slowly and sat looking at a Coca Cola™.
>What is it, Papa?
>It's the Real Thing™. For you.
>What is it?
>Here. Sit down. Open Happiness™.
>He slipped the boy's knapsack straps loose and set the pack on the floor behind him and he put his thumbnail under the aluminum clip on the top of the Red, White & You™ and opened it. He leaned his nose to the slight fizz coming from America's Real Choice™ and then handed it to the boy. Go ahead, he said. Make it Real™.
>The boy took the can. It's bubbly, he said.
>Go ahead.
>He looked at his father and then tilted the can and drank. He sat there thinking about it. Can't Beat the Feeling™, he said.
>Yes. Life Tastes Good™.
>You have some, Papa.
>I want you to drink it.
>You have some.
>He took the can and Tasted the Feeling™ and handed it back. You Walk on the Coke Side of Life™, he said. Let's just sit here.
>It's because I wont ever get to Enjoy™ again, isn't it?
>Ever's a long time.
>Okay, said the boy.

wtf i love Coca Cola™ now

>On the outskirts of the city they came to a supermarket. A few old cars in the trashstrewn parking lot. They left the cart in the lot and walked the littered aisles. In the produce section in the bottom of the bins they found a few ancient runner beans and what looked to have once been apricots, long dried to wrinkled effigies of themselves. The boy followed behind. They pushed out through the rear door. In the alleyway behind the store a few shopping carts, all badly rusted. They went back through the store again looking for another cart but there were none. By the door were two soft drink machines that had been tilted over into the floor and opened with a prybar. Coins everywhere in the ash. He sat and ran his hand around in the works of the gutted machines and in the second one it closed over a cold metal cylinder. He withdrew his hand slowly and sat looking at a Coca Cola™.
>What is it, Papa?
>It's the Real Thing™. For you.
>What is it?
>Here. Sit down. Open Happiness™.
>He slipped the boy's knapsack straps loose and set the pack on the floor behind him and he put his thumbnail under the aluminum clip on the top of the Red, White & You™ and opened it. He leaned his nose to the slight fizz coming from America's Real Choice™ and then handed it to the boy. Go ahead, he said. Make it Real™.
>The boy took the can. It's bubbly, he said.
>Go ahead.
>He looked at his father and then tilted the can and drank. He sat there thinking about it. Can't Beat the Feeling™, he said.
>Yes. Life Tastes Good™.
>You have some, Papa.
>I want you to drink it.
>You have some.
>He took the can and Tasted the Feeling™ and handed it back. You Walk on the Coke Side of Life™, he said. Let's just sit here.
>It's because I wont ever get to Enjoy™ again, isn't it?
>Ever's a long time.
>Okay, said the boy.

wtf i love Coca Cola™ now

What a fucking awful book.

What a fucking do-nothing, go-nowhere romp of a novel.

What a time-wasting, mind-numbing, yawn-inducing drivel of shit.

This was really the best work of fiction in the year it came out? This is consider top shelf?