Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

Hands down, The Passage is proof-positive that, when placed in the right hands, one can still fashion diamonds from classic vampire tropes. At first blush, one might consider a 800-page dystopian thriller chock full of immortal, light-sensitive vampires; biblical undertones; an audacious time-jump that spans a century between the first third of the book and the remainder of the story; and the fate of the world resting squarely on the shoulders of an enigmatic preteen girl is too ambitious an endeavor. But Houston novelist Justin Cronin can seemingly do no wrong, and successfully sustains the narrative by defying expectations every step of the way. The Passage is one of the finest written examples of apocalyptic horror—lurid, meditative, and epic in scope. Despite being a vampire saga, the book is peppered with such human themes as love, hope, destiny, friendship, and sufficient pathos to satisfy top-notch literature enthusiasts. The language is both poetic and beautiful, the dialogue believable and appealing, while the narrative shifts tempo—both in style and time period—in order to keep things intriguing. Set in the near future, The Passage entwines a convoluted but convincing tale that spotlights a six-year-old girl named Amy, whose hapless mother abandons her to a Memphis convent, home of clairvoyant African-born nun Lacey Kudoto. Meanwhile, FBI Agent Brad Wolgast and his partner are assigned to acquire Amy and twelve death-row inmates for Project NOAH, a military-bankrolled biomedical experiment using a longevity virus found in some nasty Bolivian bats. Naturally, mankind is punished for its jingoistic hubris and the project soon runs amok, unleashing grotesquely mutated vampires—virals—on the world, bringing the human race to near-extinction. Fast-forward 93 years to the ravaged wastelands of the once-great ‘Merica, wherein an isolationist community of beleaguered descendants employs high-wattage lights to protect the colony from the photophobic dracs. However, an expedition to recharge the failing batteries is elevated to a chance prospect of reclaiming the world after renegade protagonist Peter Jaxon happens upon a strange girl who not only appears ageless but can communicate telepathically with the virals. Cronin takes the time to explore his ensemble cast, masterfully imbuing each character with life and personality, and ultimately reveals the depths of their convictions in the face of impossible odds. From the tormented FBI Agent who steps into the role of surrogate father to ensure a young girl’s safety as the world they know crumbles around them, to the unwavering band of colony warriors who persist in their struggle against inhuman monsters even in the face of the dying light. Readers will find themselves cheering for the book’s badass heroine, Alicia “Lish” Donadio, a Valkyrie warrior who could go toe-to-toe with the headstrong likes of Lara Croft (even without the superhuman vampire serum thrown in); just as readers' hearts will bleed for Anthony Carter, the benign death-row inmate turned government guinea pig whose sole crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You may even feel a pang of compassion for the misunderstood virals. By all outward appearances they are indestructible, merciless spawns from Hell, and yet inside each of them is a small perpetual voice that wonders who they are, a voice yearning for identity. Fellow readers, do not be daunted by this 766-page behemoth, for The Passage is a worthwhile investment that pays dividends in panache prose, compelling characters, and show-stopping action sequences. Mark my words; once the crossbows are firing overhead and bloodthirsty virals are flying at you from amidst the darkened rafters and billowy treetops, you’ll be running so fast that you’ll be left breathless by the final page—an evocative, albeit ambiguous caesura that's sure to have you clawing for the next volume, eager to learn the fates of these sympathetic heroes. Interestingly, Cronin offers glimpses of his master plan, using brief excerpts to imply that the human race will endure, though it may take a thousand years for things to return to normal.