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The Ferryman: A Novel Hardcover – May 2, 2023
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From the author of The Passage comes a riveting standalone novel about a group of survivors on a hidden island utopia—where the truth isn’t what it seems.
A POLYGON BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR
The islands of Prospera lie in a vast ocean, in splendid isolation from the rest of humanity—or whatever remains of it.
Citizens of the main island enjoy privileged lives. They are attended to by support staff who live on a cramped neighboring island, where whispers of revolt are brewing—but for the Prosperans, life is perfection. And when the end of life approaches, they’re sent to a mysterious third island, where their bodies are refreshed, their memories are wiped away, and they return to start life anew.
Proctor Bennett is a ferryman, whose job it is to enforce the retirement process when necessary. He never questions his work, until the day he receives a cryptic message:
“The world is not the world.”
These simple words unlock something he has secretly suspected. They seep into strange dreams of the stars and the sea. They give him the unshakable feeling that someone is trying to tell him something important.
Something no one could possibly imagine, something that could change the fate of humanity itself.
- Print length560 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherBallantine Books
- Publication dateMay 2, 2023
- Dimensions6.37 x 1.76 x 9.54 inches
- ISBN-10052561947X
- ISBN-13978-0525619475
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“The Ferryman is next to impossible to put down once you’ve read the first few pages. Exciting, mysterious, and totally satisfying, this is a book to get lost in.”—Stephen King
“A mind-bending novel full of big ideas and a roller coaster’s worth of twists and turns—so powerful and thrilling!”—Andy Weir
“Fiction doesn’t get better than this. A transcendent meditation on the human condition, delivered through gorgeous prose, characters who steal your heart, and riveting storytelling that is guaranteed to put the rest of your life on hold until you’ve turned the final page.”—Blake Crouch
“Cronin’s shrewd world-building allows us to have it both ways: We sink into aspirational fantasy even as we relish the author’s sly commentary on a certain species of coastal elite. . . . It’s a careful book with a limited cast, animated by the bonds of parental and romantic love. An undercurrent of grief, organized around a pure, almost unobjectionable family tragedy, forms the book’s emotional core.”—The New York Times Book Review
“An intricate mystery that deals with loss and devastation on levels both personal and global. It’s a love story as well, or rather a catalog of love stories.”—The Boston Globe
“A wondrous epic both brilliant and terrifying . . . As complex as his imagined worlds become, Justin Cronin is always reminding us, masterfully, of the simplest and deepest bonds. The Ferryman, to me, is a novel about love.”—Amanda Eyre Ward
“Complex and brilliant . . . a carefully weaved and detailed world . . . This was not just a novel, but an experience.”—The Fantasy Review
“Unique, spellbinding and utterly thought-provoking. Just when you are convinced that you have anticipated the ending, The Ferryman delivers a heart-wrenching twist, leading you down another road entirely. The Ferryman was non-stop action, all leading to the inevitable conclusion that will stick with you.”—Mystery and Suspense Magazine
“Cronin’s firm command of the plot’s sinuous dynamics, and his creation of believable characters shaped by well-wrought strengths and flaws, make this bold gesture work. The result is a sensational speculative tale that is sure to get people talking.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“It’s a hefty book that moves with an astounding quickness—yet another excellent offering from an author with a boundless imagination and talent to spare. Twisty, thrilling, and beautifully written.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“A page-turner that is impossible to put down . . . a profoundly genius culmination of every twisty event and unveiled secret caps off this mind-bending masterpiece. . . .”—Library Journal (starred review)
“A great option for fans of the accessible, compelling, and thought-provoking [science fiction] of authors such as Blake Crouch, Cherie Dimaline, and Neal Stephenson.”—Booklist (starred review)
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The dream was always the same.
I am swimming in the sea. Below the surface, breath held, I push my way forward through a liquid, blue-green world. My limbs feel clean and strong, my strokes effortlessly powerful; sunlight shimmers on the surface, far above.
On a trail of exhaled bubbles, I ascend. The sun is setting, making ribbons of color against a purpling dome of sky. Drawn by an unknown influence—my actions are neither voluntary nor involuntary, they simply are—I swim away from shore. Night falls slowly, then all at once, whereupon I experience a terrible sense of error. This is all a grand mistake. I pivot toward shore to find no lights anywhere; the land has disappeared. Panicked, I spin wildly in the water, all sense of direction obliterated. I am alone in an infinite sea.
“You don’t have to be afraid, Proctor.”
A woman is swimming next to me with a smooth breaststroke, her head held erect above the surface, like a seal’s. I cannot make out her face; her voice isn’t one I know. Yet there is something about her presence that fills me with a great calm. It is as if I have been waiting for her; at last she is here.
“It won’t be long now,” she says gently. “I’ll show you the way.”
“Where are we going?”
But she doesn’t answer. As she glides away, I follow. There is no wind, no current. The surface of the sea is as motionless as stone, the only sound the gentle swish of water passing through our cupped hands.
She gestures skyward. “Can you see it?”
A single brilliant star has appeared. It’s different from the others—brighter, more distinct, with a bluish tint.
“Do you remember the star, Proctor?”
Do I? My thoughts are diffuse, drifting like chips of straw in a current. They skip from point to point. The ocean, its impersonal, inky vastness. The star, piercing the sky like a beacon. All is known and unknown; all familiar, all strange.
“You’re cold,” she says.
I am. My limbs tremble, my teeth are chattering. She moves beside me.
“Take my hand.”
I have, it appears, already done so. Her skin is warm; it seems to pulsate with life. It is a rich sensation, powerful as a tide. It flows through my body in a wave of softness. A feeling of homecoming, of home.
“Are you ready?”
She pivots toward me. For a moment her face is revealed, but the image is too quick, unable to be retained, and then she is kissing me, pressing her mouth to mine. A torrent of sensation barrels through me. It is as if my mind and body have suddenly been linked to infinite forces. I think: This is how it feels to love. How have we forgotten how to love? The woman’s arms have coiled around me, pinning my hands to my chest. Simultaneously, I become aware that the character of the water is altering. It is becoming less dense.
“Time to wake up, Proctor.”
I wave my legs frantically to hold myself afloat. But this is useless. It’s as if I’m kicking air. I am held fast, barely able to move; the sea is dissolving, opening like a maw. Terror squeezes my throat, I cannot cry out . . .
Her voice is a whisper, close to my ear: “Look down.”
I do, and with that, I plunge. We plunge, down into an infinite black abyss, and the last thing I think is this:
The sea is full of stars.
My name is Proctor Bennett. Here is what I’ve called my life.
I am a citizen of the archipelago state called Prospera. Located far from any landmass, Prospera exists in splendid isolation, hidden from the world. Its climate, like all things about it, is entirely beneficent: warming sunshine, cooling ocean breezes, and frequent, gentle rains. Island one, known as Prospera proper, is roughly circular, covering 482 square miles. It is here that all Prosperans reside. With its shorelines of crystalline white sand, interior forests abundant with wildlife, and inland valleys of the most fertile soil, it might be mistaken for a mythological paradise. Island two, known as the Annex, is home to the support staff—men and women of lesser biological and social endowments who nevertheless are, in my experience, wholly pleasant to be around. Roughly a quarter the size, it is connected to Prospera by a floating causeway, over which these helpful citizens travel daily to perform their various duties.
The last of the three islands is different from the others, in that we know very little about what occurs there, only that it does. This is known as Nursery Isle, or, more simply, the Nursery. Protected by dangerous shoals and towering cliffs, it might be likened to a floating fortress. There is only one way in, an opening on the eastern flank of the island, through which the ferry passes—a journey that each Prosperan takes twice per iteration, once at the beginning, once at the end. I cannot say who lives on Nursery Isle, though doubtless someone must. Some people say that the Designer himself resides there, overseeing the regenerative process that serves as the foundation for our exceptional way of life.
In this lush land, free of all want and distraction, Prosperans devote themselves to the highest aspirations. Creative expression and the pursuit of personal excellence: these are the cornerstones of our civilization. We are a society of musicians and painters, poets and scholars, artisans of every type. The clothes we wear, the food we eat, the social gatherings we attend, the spaces in which we work and rest and recreate—each facet of daily life is subject to the most scrutinizing curatorial eye. One might say that Prospera itself is a work of art, a canvas upon which each of our citizens brings to bear a single, exquisitely rendered brushstroke.
What is our history? How did we come to be? To these questions I haven’t much to offer; even the year has become difficult to know. And what we know of the rest of the world’s present state is, in a word, nothing. Protected by the Veil—an electromagnetic barrier that hides us from the world, and the world from us—we are spared this dismal tale. Yet one can easily imagine. War, pestilence, famine, environmental collapse; vast migrations and fanaticism of every stripe; a world de-civilized as the earth’s peoples, sworn to competing gods, turned upon one another: such were the convulsions that inspired the Designer to build our hidden sanctuary in ages past. Rarely, if ever, do we speak of these matters, known collectively as “the horrors,” because there is no profit in it. Which is, one might say, the heart of the Designer’s genius and the whole point of Prospera: to shelter the best of humanity from the worst of it.
To leave Prospera is, naturally, forbidden. Word of our existence would threaten everything. But who could desire to leave such a place? From time to time one hears of someone—always a member of the support staff—who has foolishly attempted to journey beyond the Veil. But since none has returned, and our secret existence has remained intact, one can safely assume that these troublemakers have met with failure. Perhaps the seas have swallowed them. Perhaps they have found no world to receive them, civilization having finally consumed itself utterly. Perhaps, as in a tale widely told, they have simply sailed off the edge of the earth into oblivion.
As for myself: In my present iteration, I am forty-two years old. (Prosperans start the clock at sixteen, the approximate biological age of new iterants freshly off the ferry.) My current social arrangement, my first, is a fifteen-year contract of heterosexual marriage, renewable. After eight years together, I would say that Elise and I are generally happy. We are not the ardent lovers we once were, practically unable to keep our hands off each other. But these things soften over time, yielding at their best to an easier, more comfortable kind of partnership, and that is where we find ourselves. Our home, which Elise’s guardians paid for—given my relatively modest salary as a civil servant, I could never afford such a thing on my own—sits atop a rocky promontory on Prospera’s southern coast. Never have I seen Elise so blissfully in her element as during the two years of its construction. For hours every day, she huddled with the army of architects, artisans, and craftspeople, guaranteeing that her fingerprints lay upon even the smallest detail. I admit, my own interest was more tepid; I lack Elise’s eye for these things and would have been content to take quarters closer to town. I was also concerned about her guardians’ influence on our newly joined lives, her mother’s in particular. But the house makes her happy, and therefore makes me happy, and it’s there that Elise and I conduct our lives, all to the sound of wind in the palm fronds and the gnashing of white-toothed waves upon the beach below.
Product details
- Publisher : Ballantine Books; First Edition (May 2, 2023)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 560 pages
- ISBN-10 : 052561947X
- ISBN-13 : 978-0525619475
- Item Weight : 1.75 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.37 x 1.76 x 9.54 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #20,406 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #382 in Dystopian Fiction (Books)
- #481 in Post-Apocalyptic Science Fiction (Books)
- #2,918 in Suspense Thrillers
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Justin Cronin is the New York Times bestselling author of The Passage, The Twelve, The City of Mirrors, Mary and O’Neil (which won the PEN/Hemingway Award and the Stephen Crane Prize), and The Summer Guest. Other honors for his writing include a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Whiting Writers’ Award. A Distinguished Faculty Fellow at Rice University, he divides his time between Houston, Texas, and Cape Cod, Massachusetts.
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So much sense when it all came together! I read the text and listened to the audio because I refused to wait to keep reading the book, even if it wasn’t an ideal time to read (driving) or listen!
Proctor Bennett is a ferryman, one who is in charge of accompanying those who are too elderly to be viable Prosperan citizens to be "reconstituted". Maybe to come back as young adoptees to those aristocrats who want children. Well, it gets interesting when Proctor is assigned to shepherd his father to the ferry. His father gets upset and starts babbling things about the Oranios. It is only now that the reader finds that all is not as it seems in Prospera. Or anywhere else for that matter.
Spoiler alert: We find eventually that Prospera only lives in the minds of those in stasis aboard a mammoth space ark named The Oranios. The Oranios carries 800 souls on a voyage to save humanity from extinction as a result of climate change. On board are not only the workers necessary for starting a new civilization on a habitable alien world but also the small group of financiers who made the Oranios and the voyage possible.
Thus, we come to the problem: The Ferryman has a micro plot and a macro plot. We the readers are sucked into one and are traded off to the other. Complicated? Yes. Convoluted? A matter of opinion. To me, it is worth the read. The first plot is compelling. The second, not so much. The characters are fascinating. The book almost seems like an "exercise" in science fiction writing. Of course, the author is like the ferryman. In charge. The readers are like the working class. Just along for the ride.
I've followed Justin Cronin since "The Passage." This book, by far, is his most complex and I'm sure it was a real challenge to write. At first, it appears to be a disaster novel, with survivors walling themselves off in a tropical paradise. The protagonist, Proctor Bennett (who at times is also the antagonist) is filled with good and evil and everything in between, as are most of the characters in this book.
The Ferryman later brought to mind Elon Musk's plans to conquer and establish colonies on Mars. And, yeah, I think the book aptly predicts the outcome of such megalomania. I can easily imagine Musk as Proctor Bennett. The entire novel is indeed a cautionary tale - painting pictures of pure horror at times.
The book touches on class warfare, predicting humans will always exploit each other and the lower class will always resent and rebel. The character development in the book was amazing and plausible. The idea of cryogenic humans absorbing the dreams of a godlike creature is brilliant. How the author managed to keep track of the ever-changing psyche of his characters is beyond me.
Though I enjoyed The Ferryman, it could have been a tad shorter. It dragged on far beyond the need to make a point. Some of the outcomes should have been left to the reader's imagination. Nevertheless, it's a great book and well worth reading.
Top reviews from other countries
Quinn me fait penser à Hightop
Die Welt, die der Autor hier entwirft, ist äußerst fantasievoll und wunderschön beschrieben. Die Charaktere sind sorgfältig ausgearbeitet und ihre Entwicklung wird mit viel Detailreichtum dargestellt. Die Geschichte ist ein wahrhaftiges Puzzle aus Facetten, das immer neue Aspekte offenbart und den Leser in ein mysteriöses und spannendes Universum entführt.
Die Erzählung hat eine faszinierende Art, den Leser in den Bann zu ziehen. Es ist, als ob nichts so ist, wie es auf den ersten Blick erscheint. Man taucht ein in die Tiefe der Geschichte und kann das Buch kaum aus der Hand legen. Ich konnte förmlich spüren, wie mich die Handlung in ihren Sog zog, und wollte unbedingt wissen, wie es weitergeht.
"The Ferryman" taucht tief in die menschliche Natur ein und erforscht eine Vielzahl von Facetten – von Gier über Trauer bis hin zur Suche nach Sinn und Bedeutung. Die Geschichte behandelt diese Themen auf faszinierende Weise und gibt dem Leser Raum für Reflexion.
Bis zum Ende hin bleibt das Buch ein wahres Juwel. Die Geschichte ist kunstvoll gestaltet, reich an Tiefe und Vielschichtigkeit. "The Ferrymanl" hat mich auf eine Reise mitgenommen, die ich nicht vergessen werde. Ein absolutes Muss für alle, die nach einer literarischen Erfahrung suchen, die sie in ihren Bann zieht und nicht mehr loslässt.
Furthermore, I am captivated by the author's writing style, which is meticulous yet concise. The arrangement of multiple storylines keeps the reader on edge while maintaining a sense of curiosity. Reading this book not only urges people to prioritize the preservation of love and the environment but also imparts intriguing writing techniques.
“The Ferryman" is a powerful reminder of the significance of love in a world devoid of it. It serves as a wake-up call to the consequences of our self-destructive actions and offers hope that love can be the ultimate solution. With its engaging storytelling and valuable lessons, this book is a must-read for those seeking both entertainment and insights into the power of love and the importance of environmental preservation.
Meanwhile, average people, the support staff, inhabit a crowded, slum-like neighboring island.
But nothing is as it seems.
This beautifully written, thought provoking story, explores many aspects of the human condition; greed, grief, and the search for meaning. It's not an easy read: the book has a literary feel, explores heavy emotional terrain, and the author has created a many layered reality. So those seeking a quick escapist read might not be satisfied with this tale. However, others will be captivated by the beauty and wisdom of this story.