The Ferryman

1­

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

Justin Cronin

A feat of addictive storytelling. The Wall Street Journal

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