No book in a long time has meant more to me than The Road. It’s been years since a book has grabbed hold of me and taken me on such a captivating, stunning journey. And I don’t remember any other contemporary literature that is more beautifully, starkly written. In other words, Cormac McCarthy has written a book that is on par with Beloved or The Shipping News—landmark modern novels by authors at the pinnacle of their craft. In still other words, The Road is the best book of 2006 and beyond.

This is just my opinion, of course. Naturally, I didn’t read every book published last year. And other book critics would disagree with me. (Many critics hailed the supremacy of Philip Roth’s 2004 novel The Plot Against America, while I was fairly nonplussed about the fuss.) But The Road has greatness on multiple levels: a story that is under-wrought and overwhelming; pacing and plotting that are perfection; characters that are timeless and yet painfully mortal; and page after page of writing that is so accomplished that it begs to be read again and again. I couldn’t get enough of uncounted passages in The Road, and found myself re-reading entire paragraphs—for the simplicity and power of the dialogue, for certain astounding plot developments, and for the sheer beauty of McCarthy’s voice. This is not a book written for the sake of prettiness. It is a tight, austere, harrowing tale about the death of the world that happens to be gorgeous in its horror and its humanity. Consider the following excerpt:

Beyond a crossroads in that wilderness they began to come upon the possessions of travelers abandoned in the road years ago. Boxes and bags. Everything melted and black. Old plastic suitcases curled shapeless in the heat. Here and there the imprint of things wrested out of the tar by scavengers. A mile on and they began to come upon the dead. Figures half mired in the blacktop, clutching themselves, mouths howling. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Take my hand, he said. I don’t think you should see this.

The Road is the account of a nameless father and son who are making their way down an unnamed road in an unknown country at an unspecified time. Ash covers everything and is carried in every gust of wind. The father pushes a shopping cart filled with their only possessions—dwindling food stores, threadbare clothing, and a gun with two bullets. The sun orbits a dimmed horizon, which appears to be obscured by a nuclear winter. History, animals, and vegetation are dead, as is the vast majority of the human race. The goal of the pair is simply to survive … and to keep heading south along the road to possible warmth. On their journey, we glimpse their struggle (illustrated by ghastly scenes like the one excerpted above), urge their survival, and embrace their tenuous yet tenacious bond as father and son and solitary travelers in a silent but perilous world. When I finished their story, I was stunned by its purity and power. I was amazed by McCarthy’s skill, and at his ability to simultaneously convey such fragile hope among such harsh hopelessness. And then I closed the cover of a book I knew was unlikely to forget.

Following are the other finalists Roth beat out for this year’s PEN/Faulkner:

• All Aunt Hagar’s Children, by Edward P. Jones
• The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel, by Amy Hempel
• Twilight of the Superheroes, by Deborah Eisenberg
• The Dead Fish Museum, by Charles D’Ambrosio

Lucky is a 10-year-old girl who lives in a small desert town aptly named Hard Pan. The soil is rock solid, and many town residents have hit rock bottom. Hard Pan claims only 43 inhabitants but many 12-step programs. In search of her own higher power, Lucky lurks and listens outside the meetings of those who are recovering from tobacco, alcohol, and other addictions. What she seeks is greater security and a higher wisdom. After all, her mother was killed by a lightning strike, and her dad is the definition of “absentee father.” Lucky’s guardian, Brigitte, just might be planning to leave the California desert for her own family in Paris. So Lucky is increasingly desperate for, well, some solid ground among all that hardpan.

From this conceit, author Susan Patron builds a family of characters that is quirky and vibrant. Hard Pan, it seems, is a refuge in the Mojave for the down-and-out. Lucky is at home among such motley, marginalized folks. But she soon realizes that she must run away from Brigitte, and that sets in motion the adventure that will both entertain and enlighten readers.

Patron’s simple little novel has a magnanimous heart. She writes with a wit that doesn’t patronize children and a voice that speaks clearly about both hardship and hope. In a world filled with fantasy-focused children’s literature—the Harry Potters and Artemis Fowls—Patron writes about non-magical subjects like alcoholism and foster parents. She writes for the kids who live in such households, as well as for their friends and the other young readers who care to open such fictional-yet-factual doors. Yes, she also mentions the word “scrotum.” At the beginning of the novel, Lucky hears about a dog that was bitten in the scrotum by a rattlesnake. This incident is treated with finesse and a complete lack of sensationalism. (If you’re a parent, I recommend reading the first few pages to see if you agree with me.) After all, ours is a world where canines don’t wear pants and children of all ages witness dog scrotums; Patron merely puts an appropriate word to that reality. Then she moves on to more realities, and as she does so, she takes her readers on a heartfelt, humorous, and heartening journey.

One last thing: If you’re interested, I recommend Patron’s response to her current controversy.

Yes, Hollywood owes much to books. And the Academy Awards would be smart someday to honor its literary legacy. In a way, we’ve beat them to the punch with the following list of books we loved that became recent big winners on the big screen:

• Sophie’s Choice, by William Styron: No other screen performance can beat Meryl Streep’s in this movie, and when you read the book you’ll understand how well she captured the title character’s astounding and heartbreaking life.
• Close Range: Wyoming Stories, by Annie Proulx: Brokeback Mountain is but one story in this collection, and it’s telling and rare that simply a dozen or so pages could inspire such an acclaimed and moving film.
• The Thin Red Line, by James Jones: We love Terrence Malick’s masterful adaptation of this novel for its breathtaking beauty and its profound, contemplative look at the inward impact and personal violence of war.
• The Hours, by Michael Cunningham: It’s hard to beat this brilliant, Pulitzer-winning take on Mrs Dalloway that was adapted into an Oscar-winning film.
• The Remains of the Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro: This sentimental favorite captures the anguish of unrequited love and the tragedy of the wasted life.

OK, we admit this is a pretty grim bunch of books. But you know Oscar: He loves heartbreak and sacrifice.

• The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters, by Gordon Dahlquist: This is sexy, literary science fiction. After young Celeste Temple receives a letter from her fiancé, in which he ends their engagement, she sets off on a Victorian adventure that’s sometimes convoluted but is ultimately fun and engaging. She uncovers a secret, bizarre society bent on creating the titular glass books—creations so devious and overpowering that the quest for their possession results in scandalous murders, sexual scandals, and at least one high-speed chase via dirigible. Dahlquist’s imagination is ever so twisted, and his novel is a stylized spin through a unique fantasy world.
• Saturday, by Ian McEwan: I began this novel immediately after putting down a poorly written and unsatisfying vampire story. I still remember being struck by the strength and clarity of McEwan’s prose—a vast improvement after the Dracula tale. Far from such sensational story lines, McEwan’s novel depicts a day in the life of a London neurosurgeon—a day in which his comfortable, complacent life takes an unexpected turn. The result is first-rate contemporary literature.
• Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic, by Alison Bechdel: A memoir presented in the style of a graphic novel, this book is a subtle, provocative, intelligent look back at Bechdel’s adolescence. Author and artist of the syndicated Dykes to Watch Out For comic strip, Bechdel is no stranger to tough issues. But her vivid, unflinching depiction of her father’s death (was it suicide? was he gay? was there more to the story?) results in a very compelling, insightful autobiography.
• Flyboys: A True Story of Courage, by James Bradley: This is the amazing account of nine U.S. airmen who were shot down near Iwo Jima in World War II. All but one of the men are captured by the Japanese, and they endure horrific neglect and torture before dying while imprisoned. The lone man who escapes (one George H.W. Bush) eventually becomes President of the United States. It’s a made-for-Hollywood story—that is, until Bradley details the war crimes perpetrated by U.S. forces in that same war. It’s sobering, respectable, and evenhanded—an engrossing read.

• Costa Novel Award: Restless, by William Boyd
• Costa Children’s Book Award: Set in Stone, by Linda Newbery
• Costa Poetry Award: Letter to Patience, by John Haynes
• Costa Biography Award: Keeping Mum, by Brian Thompson

• Newbery Medal: The Higher Power of Lucky, by Susan Patron
• Caldecott Medal: Flotsam, by David Wiesner
• Carnegie Medal: Mo Willems (author/illustrator)
• Geisel Medal: Zelda and Ivy: The Runaways, by Laura McGee Kvasnosky
• Sibert Medal: Team Moon: How 400,000 People Landed Apollo 11 on the Moon, by Catherine Thimmesh

The ALA’s children’s book awards present the perfect opportunity each year to grab a stack of books for the kids in your life—books that are certain to be winners in their hearts and minds.

Lewis Jaffe is the “junkie” in question. When you browse his blog, you’ll discover a fascinating, virtual collection of bookplates—including those of Greta Garbo, Sigmund Freud, and Czar Nicolas II. Then there’s Walt Disney’s bookplate, and Noel Coward’s … and seemingly hundreds more belonging to the famous, the infamous, and the unknown. Take a look. But do so when you have some time to spare, because it’s easy to be drawn into this intriguing, unique book blog.