Set in an American landscape destroyed by unknown catastrophe, this extraordinary novel tells of a father and son’s relationship amidst utter devastation. Armed with a pistol and a tattered map, they inchoately navigate the roads toward the distant coast. Firestorms have scorched the earth, poisoning land and rivers, and killing all animal life. The sun glows weakly through an ash curtain that falls ceaselessly from the leaden sky. The pair carry their possessions and food stocks in a trolley, vigilant against attack from other survivors who are ravaged by hunger and cold.

There is no law here, no justice. McCarthy gives us no names, simply the unfolding of the journey. Somehow the father’s love is a match for the horrors they encounter, as he and the boy reach moral understandings in this amoral world. Charred bodies litter the roadside and the towns they pass are extinct, but through it all, the bond between father and son is powerful and true.

Stripped of bombast, McCarthy has fashioned his most emotional work with The Road. The denouement left me shattered, in tears. There will not be a better book this year – I guarantee it.