I was at JFK airport two years ago, with a few US dollars left I didn't want to take home. Nothing seemed particularly inspiring at the bookstore, plus my husband had recently seen & liked 'The Road' and strongly recommended it. So I bought it, despite the fact that I have never liked stories of misery, have never appreciated the occasional 'good cry'.
It only took me a few pages to realize that the book cover illustrates the story to absolute perfection. Life's a bitch from the very beginning, and then he dies. "Depressing post-apocalyptic vision" only begins to describe it.
Normally, I would have chucked this book as far as possible before finishing it.
Couldn't, though! It turned out to be Real Literature! By that I mean a text of such beauty and poetry that it doubtlessly qualifies as a work of art. A pleasure to read, despite the dismal subject matter.
However; should you be suicidal, you might want to choose something a bit more frivolous..!