Download PDF by Cormac McCarthy: La carretera

By Cormac McCarthy

ISBN-10: 8439724926

ISBN-13: 9788439724926

Un padre y su hijo caminan solos por una América devastada. Nada se mueve en el paisaje quemado salvo cenizas en el viento. El cielo es oscuro, l. a. nieve gris, y el frío es capaz de romper las rocas. Su destino es l. a. costa, aunque no saben qué, si algo, les espera allí. No tienen nada; sólo una pistola para defenderse contra las bandas que acechan l. a. carretera, las ropas que llevan puestas, un carrito con comida, y el uno al otro.La carretera es l. a. historia profundamente conmovedora de un viaje. Un libro que atrevidamente imagina un futuro en el que no queda esperanza, pero en el que un padre y un hijo que sólo se tienen a sí mismos, sobreviven por amor.

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Extra info for La carretera

Example text

John! ” The thing gave chase, its shaved-ham feet slapping the floor behind me. My candle went out. I tossed it aside. I saw a closed door to my right, so I skidded to a stop, threw it open, and flung myself in. Linen shelves smacked me in the face and I fell back out of the closet, dazed. The meat man wrapped its cold links around my neck and lifted me up. It pinned me against the wall. “You disappoint me. All those times we have dueled. In the desert. In the city. ” I was so impressed by this thing’s ability to articulate words using that flapping deer tongue and a frozen turkey that I almost lost track of what it was saying.

My adopted family moved away, I won’t tell you where they are. But get out your pen because you’ll want to write this down. My biological mom? ” “That must have been hard. What was the—” “She was a strung-out, crank-addicted cannibal, dabbled in vampirism and shamanism. My mom, she worshipped some major devil when I was a toddler. Blew her welfare check every month on black candles. Sure, Satan would do her favors now and then, but there’s always a catch with the Devil. ” “No. This, this silliness, it’s what I do when I’m nervous.

I spun around, moved toward the commotion. The dog seemed to eye me carefully, then ran off in the other direction. I looked around— Ah. Giggling now. There was a bundle of girls, away from the stage, huddled with their backs to the band. They were surrounding a black guy with dreadlocks, an overcoat. He had one of those Rastafarian berets on his head, definitely going for a look, wanting the attention. Two of the girls had their hands over their mouths, eyes bulging, screaming for the guy to do it again, do it again.

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La carretera by Cormac McCarthy


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