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Paved With Good Intentions

Oprah's inexplicable leap from The Secret to Cormac McCarthy's The Road has got this writer wondering whether she's in the throes of a spiritual crisis: "Going from The Secret to The Road within a month of each other must provide the literary equivalent of whiplash: Is this a cry for help? Or could it be that, over a decade after shunning the faux 'evil' of pop-culture pap, and with the help of one of the greatest living American novelists, Oprah has finally learned that there's something to be gained from staring into the darkness?"

It's a bit of a lazy dig, as this list of past Book Club selections handily demonstrates. The Secret (which was not, it should be noted, an actual Book Club selection) may be a steaming heap of awful offal, but The Sound and the Fury and Night aren't exactly cotton candy and carousel rides, are they?

Well, they are compared to The Road. Last October I wrote a brief and probably too dismissive review of McCarthy's book which generated more hate mail than anything I've written, ever, period. I was lambasted for not getting it, for not having a soul, for not seeing the book's Christian message, for not seeing its anti-Christian message, for not having read A Canticle for Leibowitz . . .

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