I actually started reading this in 2013 and shelved it after the first fifth. At that time, gripped by the death throes of my indie gamedev journey, it felt too grim to plow through.
Take away the sun and remove all hope. Render a charcoal rubbing of humanity in black and gray, and then against that backdrop tell the story of a father's love for his son.
While reading this book I thought that it had been written long before its actual publish date. McCarthy's prose is raw pulp from another age; smelling of faded oil paintings of cowbows against umber sunsets and dusty ochre horizons.
A quick read, harrowing but not overtly horrific. Recommended for any fan of the post-apocalyptic.