A closer Look at the Characters

Let’s take a look at the protagonists, starting with the son.

Physically, the boy is scrawny, pale, and weak.  During this section he is described as “something out of a death camp… starving, exhausted, [and] sick with fear” (McCarthy 123). 

Despite his condition, he acts like a pretty normal kid at times.   For example, he has toys, like his “yellow truck” (McCarthy 36), and wants to help people, such as the man struck by lightning towards the beginning of the novel and the refugee boy they encounter.  His innocence and feelings of kindness makes him a very likeable character compared to all of the death, doom, and destruction everywhere else.  It also sticks something familiar to the reader, a nice kid, into the author’s imaginary environment, which can make the story feel more real at times (is there a name for this technique?). 

At the same time, he is certainly not straight out of the modern world: he wonders “where’s the neighborhood?” when his father uses it colloquially to mean “in the vicinity.”  On a slightly darker note, when asked if he “[wants] to die?” the son responds with “I don’t care” (McCarthy 88).  The son’s apparent apathy towards his death and existence raises a central question of the novel: is it worth it to survive?   His mother answers with a resounding “no.”  His father thinks otherwise.  Their son is a mixture of both of their perspectives.  Sure, he answers “I don’t care” when asked whether he wants to die or not, but, at the same time, he’s not killing himself or giving up and he keeps asking “are we going to die now?” – suggesting he cares to some extent about his death (McCarthy 92).  This could be an are-we-there-yet sort of question, but the fact that he keeps on going, even when starving, cold, and exhausted, indicates otherwise.  It’s also worth considering that “I don’t care” doesn’t technically mean “yes, I want to live,” (his father’s answer) or “no, I don’t want to live,” (his mother’s answer) its somewhere in between: indifferent.

               Moreover, the father is, understandably, the brains and brawn behind the protagonists’ survival; he navigates the maps, scavenges the countryside, carries or drags the boy in times of danger, and lights the fires.  He has impressive survival instincts.  For instance, seeing that someone had hurried past their camp during the night, he becomes paranoid and decides to“[leave] a maze of tracks” in the snow and backtracks to avoid the group hunting the fleeing person (McCarthy 109).  He makes the tough and heartless decisions to protect himself and his son, such as when they leave the man struck by lightning because “there’s nothing to be done for him” (McCarthy 51) and the people in the cannibal’s basement calling “help us” (McCarthy 116).  At times, these decisions conflict with the son’s desire to help those suffering around them.

               One critical aspect of the father is his unfaltering spirituality.  This contrasts with the world, which is described as “godless” (McCarthy 2) and populated by “creedless shells of men” (McCarthy 22).  He lashes out at God during his times of deepest despair (McCarthy 10, 120), but also attributes moments of good fortune, like when they uncover the bunker (McCarthy 146), and his son to Him.

He views his son as “his warrant” and the “word of God” (McCarthy 3).  His “job is to take care of [the boy],” a responsibility he sees as “appointed…by God” (McCarthy 80).  Certainly his commitment to taking care of his son is central to his behavior, whether that’s giving him the only soda (McCarthy 22), “[washing] a dead man’s brain from his hair” (McCarthy 77), or “[killing] anyone who touches [him]” (McCarthy 80).  Still, the boy is more than just a duty; he’s the father’s source of strength and will.   The father views his son as a “golden chalice, good to house a god” (McCarthy 78) – alluding to the Holy Grail, a mythical cup which magically provides happiness and sustenance.  Just like the Holy Grail, the son supplies the father with happiness and spiritual sustenance.  The son is also depicted as “God’s own firedrake” (McCarthy 30), a phrase whose meaning becomes very significant when the father’s explanation for why they’re the “good guys” is: “we’re carrying the fire” (McCarthy 86).  Without the “fire” provided by the son, the father wouldn’t be a “good guy” – his “sparks [would rush] upwards and [die] in the starless dark” (McCarthy 30) and he would be like everybody else.  His relationship with his son goes beyond love; it’s integral to his moral and spiritual being.  Should his son die, the effect on him would be catastrophic.