Right off this book did two things I really hate, and I still thought it was brilliant. Not using quotation marks and keeping characters and places anonymous is usually a sign to me of SnobLit, and often doesn't work as it removes the reader so forcibly from the story it's very hard to find a connection. This novel is the exception, and speaks to McCarthy's talent as despite the distance the prose mantains between you and the two main characters, you feel so deeply involved that it's hard to extricate yourself at the end. As a result it's hard on the emotions and will linger with you for days in ways you might not want it to, but those are the signs of teriffic writing.
Besides, a few days of feeling extra blessed for what you have isn't that bad of a thing.