2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online
2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online_top
2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online__left

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Product Description

#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • “A thrilling finale to a trilogy that will stand as one of the great achievements in American fantasy fiction.”—Stephen King

You followed The Passage. You faced The Twelve. Now enter The City of Mirrors for the final reckoning. As the bestselling epic races to its breathtaking finale, Justin Cronin’s band of hardened survivors await the second coming of unspeakable darkness.

The world we knew is gone. What world will rise in its place?

The Twelve have been destroyed and the terrifying hundred-year reign of darkness that descended upon the world has ended. The survivors are stepping outside their walls, determined to build society anew—and daring to dream of a hopeful future.

But far from them, in a dead metropolis, he waits: Zero. The First. Father of the Twelve. The anguish that shattered his human life haunts him, and the hatred spawned by his transformation burns bright. His fury will be quenched only when he destroys Amy—humanity’s only hope, the Girl from Nowhere who grew up to rise against him.

One last time light and dark will clash, and at last Amy and her friends will know their fate.

Look for the entire Passage trilogy:
THE PASSAGE | THE TWELVE | THE CITY OF MIRRORS

Praise for The City of Mirrors

“Compulsively readable.” —The New York Times Book Review

“The City of Mirrors is poetry. Thrilling in every way it has to be, but poetry just the same . . . The writing is sumptuous, the language lovely, even when the action itself is dark and violent.” —The Huffington Post

“This really is the big event you’ve been waiting for . . .  A true last stand that builds and comes with a bloody, roaring payoff you won’t see coming, then builds again to the big face off you’ve been waiting for.” —NPR

“A masterpiece . . .  with The City of Mirrors, the third volume in The Passage trilogy, Justin Cronin puts paid to what may well be the finest post-apocalyptic epic in our dystopian-glutted times. A stunning achievement by virtually every measure.”— The National Post

“Justin Cronin’s Passage trilogy is remarkable for the unremitting drive of its narrative, for the breathtaking sweep of its imagined future, and for the clear lucidity of its language.” —Stephen King

Review

“Compulsively readable.” —The New York Times Book Review

“The City of Mirrors is poetry. Thrilling in every way it has to be, but poetry just the same . . . The writing is sumptuous, the language lovely, even when the action itself is dark and violent.” —The Huffington Post

“This really is the big event you’ve been waiting for . . .  A true last stand that builds and comes with a bloody, roaring payoff you won’t see coming, then builds again to the big face off you’ve been waiting for.” —NPR

“A masterpiece . . .  with The City of Mirrors, the third volume in The Passage trilogy, Justin Cronin puts paid to what may well be the finest post-apocalyptic epic in our dystopian-glutted times. A stunning achievement by virtually every measure.”— The National Post

“Justin Cronin’s Passage trilogy is remarkable for the unremitting drive of its narrative, for the breathtaking sweep of its imagined future, and for the clear lucidity of its language. The City of Mirrors is a thrilling finale to a trilogy that will stand as one of the great achievements in American fantasy fiction.” —Stephen King

“Superb . . . This conclusion to bestseller Cronin’s apocalyptic thriller trilogy ends with all of the heartbreak, joy, and unexpected twists of fate that events in The Passage and The Twelve foreordained.” Publishers Weekly (starred review)
 
“Readers who have been patiently awaiting the conclusion to Cronin’s sweeping postapocalyptic trilogy are richly rewarded with this epic, heart-wrenching novel. . . . Not only does this title bring the series to a thrilling and satisfying conclusion, but it also exhibits Cronin’s moving exploration of love as both a destructive force and an elemental need, elevating this work among its dystopian peers.” Library Journal (starred review)
 
Praise for The Passage
 
“Magnificent . . . Cronin has taken his literary gifts, and he has weaponized them. . . . The Passage can stand proudly next to Stephen King’s apocalyptic masterpiece The Stand, but a closer match would be Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.” Time
 
“Read this book and the ordinary world disappears.” —Stephen King
 
“[A] big, engrossing read that will have you leaving the lights on late into the night.” The Dallas Morning News
 
The Twelve
 
“[A] literary superthriller, driven at once by character and plot.” —The New York Times Book Review
 
“Gripping . . . Cronin [introduces] eerie new elements to his masterful mythology.” —The San Diego Union-Tribune
 
“An undeniable and compelling epic . . . a complex narrative of flight and forgiveness, of great suffering and staggering loss, of terrible betrayals and incredible hope.” —Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

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 a Whiting Writers’ Award. A Distinguished Faculty Fellow at Rice University, he divides his time between Houston, Texas, and Cape Cod, Massachusetts.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

I

 

The Daughter

 

98–­101 a.v.

 

There is another world but it is this one.

 

—-Paul Éluard

 

1

 

Central Pennsylvania

 

August 98 a.v.

 

Eight months after the liberation of the Homeland

 

The ground yielded easily under her blade, unlocking a black smell of earth. The air was hot and moist; birds were singing in the trees. On her hands and knees, she stabbed the dirt, chopping it loose. One handful at a time, she scooped it away. Some of the weakness had abated but not all. Her body felt loose, disorganized, drained. There was pain, and the memory of pain. Three days had passed, or was it four? Perspiration beaded on her face; she licked her lips to taste the salt. She dug and dug. The sweat ran in rivulets, falling into the earth. That’s where everything goes, Alicia thought, in the end. Everything goes into the earth.

 

The pile beside her swelled. How deep was enough? Three feet down, the soil began to change. It became colder, with the odor of clay. It seemed like a sign. She rocked back on her boots and took a long drink from her canteen. Her hands were raw; the flesh at the base of her thumb had peeled back in a sheet. She placed the web of her hand to her mouth and used her teeth to sever the flap of skin and spat it into the dirt.

 

Soldier was waiting for her at the edge of the clearing, his jaws loudly working on a stand of waist--high grass. The grace of his haunches, his rich mane and blue roan coat, the magnificence of his hooves and teeth and the great black marbles of his eyes: an aura of splendor surrounded him. He possessed, when he chose, an absolute calm, then, in the next moment, could perform remarkable deeds. His wise face lifted at the sound of her approach. I see. We’re ready. He turned in a slow arc, his neck bent low, and followed her into the trees to the place where she had pitched her tarp. On the ground beside Alicia’s bloody bedroll lay the small bundle, swaddled in a stained blanket. Her daughter had lived less than an hour, yet in that hour Alicia had become a mother.

 

Soldier watched as she emerged. The baby’s face was covered; Alicia drew back the cloth. Soldier bent his face to the child’s, his nostrils flaring, breathing in her scent. Tiny nose and eyes and rosebud mouth, startling in their humanness; her head was covered in a cap of soft red hair. But there was no life, no breath. Alicia had wondered if she would be capable of loving her—-this child conceived in terror and pain, fathered by a monster. A man who had beaten her, raped her, cursed her. How foolish she’d been.

 

She returned to the clearing. The sun was directly overhead; insects buzzed in the grass, a rhythmic pulsing. Soldier stood beside her as she laid her daughter in the grave. When her labor had started, Alicia had begun to pray. Let her be all right. As the hours of agony dissolved into one another, she had felt death’s cold presence inside her. The pain pounded through her, a wind of steel; it echoed in her cells like thunder. Something was wrong. Please, God, protect her, protect us. But her prayers had fallen into the void.

 

The first handful of soil was the hardest. How did one do it? Alicia had buried many men. Some she’d known, and some she hadn’t; only one she’d loved. The boy, Hightop. So funny, so alive, then gone. She let the dirt sift through her fingers. It struck the cloth with a pattering sound, like the first spits of rain upon leaves. Bit by bit her daughter disappeared. Goodbye, she thought, goodbye, my darling, my one.

 

She returned to her tent. Her soul felt shattered, like a million chips of glass inside her. Her bones were tubes of lead. She needed water, food; her stores were exhausted. But hunting was out of the question, and the creek, a five--minute walk down the hillside, felt like miles away. The needs of the body: what did they matter? Nothing mattered. She lay on her bedroll and closed her eyes, and soon she was asleep.

 

She dreamed of a river. A wide, dark river, and above it the moon was shining. It laid its light across the water like a golden road. What lay ahead Alicia did not know, only that she needed to cross this river. She took her first cautious step upon its glowing surface. Her mind felt divided: half marveled at this unlikely mode of travel; the other half did not. As the moon touched the far shore, she realized she had been deceived. The shining pathway was dissolving. She broke into a run, desperate to reach the other side before the river swallowed her. But the distance was too great; with every step she took, the horizon leapt farther away. The water sloshed around her ankles, her knees, her waist. She had no strength to fight its pull. Come to me, Alicia. Come to me, come to me, come to me. She was sinking, the river was taking her, she was plunging into darkness . . . 

 

She awoke to a muted orange light; the day had nearly passed. She lay motionless, assembling her thoughts. She had grown accustomed to these nightmares; the pieces changed but never the feeling of them—-the futility, the fear. Yet this time something was different. An aspect of the dream had traveled into life; her shirt was sopping. She looked down to see the widening stains. Her milk had come in.

 

*    

 

Staying was not a conscious decision; the will to move on was simply absent. Her strength returned. It approached with small steps; then, like a guest long awaited, it arrived all at once. She constructed a shelter of deadfall and vines, using the tarp as a roof. The woods abounded with life: squirrels and rabbits, quail and doves, deer. Some were too quick for her but not all. She set traps and waited to collect her kill or took them on her cross: one shot, a clean death, then dinner, raw and warm. At the end of each day when the light had faded, she bathed in the creek. The water was clear and shockingly cold. It was on such an excursion that she saw the bears. A rustling ten yards upstream, something heavy moving in the brush; then they appeared at the edge of the creek, a mother and a pair of cubs. Alicia had never seen such creatures in the flesh, only in books. They prowled the shallows together, pushing the mud with their snouts. There was something loose and half--formed about their anatomy, as if the muscles were not firmly stitched to the skin beneath their heavy, twig--tangled coats. A cloud of insects sparkled around them, catching the last of the light. But the bears did not appear to notice her or, if they did, did not think she was important.

 

The summer faded. One day, a world of fat green leaves, dense with shadow; then the woods exploded with riotous color. In the morning, the floor of the forest crunched with frost. Winter’s cold descended with a feeling of purity. Snow lay heavy on the land. The black lines of the trees, the small footprints of birds, the whitewashed sky, bleached of all tone: everything had been pared to its essence. What month was it? What day? As time wore on, food became a problem. For hours, whole days even, she barely moved, conserving her strength; she hadn’t spoken to a living soul in nearly a year. Gradually it came to her that she was no longer thinking in words, as if she had become a creature of the forest. She wondered if she was losing her mind. She began to talk to Soldier, as if he were a person. Soldier, she would say, what should we have for dinner? Soldier, do you think it’s time to gather wood for the fire? Soldier, does the sky look like snow?

 

One night she awoke in the shelter and realized that for some time she’d been hearing thunder. A wet spring wind was blowing in directionless gusts, hurling around in the treetops. With a feeling of detachment, Alicia listened to the storm’s approach; then it was suddenly upon them. A blast of lightning forked the sky, freezing the scene in her eyes, followed by an earsplitting clap. She let Soldier inside as the heavens opened, ejecting raindrops heavy as bullets. The horse was shivering with terror. Alicia needed to calm him; just one panicked movement in the tiny space and his massive body would blow the shelter to pieces. You’re my good boy, she murmured, stroking his flank. With her free hand she slipped the rope around his neck. My good, good boy. What do you say? Keep a girl company on a rainy night? His body was tense with fear, a wall of coiled muscle, and yet when she applied slow force to draw him downward, he allowed it. Beyond the walls of the shelter, the lightning flashed, the heavens rolled. He dropped to his knees with a mighty sigh, turned onto his side beside her bedroll, and that was how the two of them slept as the rain poured down all night, washing winter away.

 

She abided in that place for two years. Leaving was not easy; the woods had become a solace. She had taken its rhythms as her own. But when Alicia’s third summer began, a new feeling stirred: the time had come to move on. To finish what she’d started.

 

She passed the rest of the summer preparing. This involved the construction of a weapon. She left on foot for the river towns and returned three days later, hauling a clanking bag. She understood the basics of what she was attempting, having watched the process many times; the details would come through trial and error. A flat--topped boulder by the creek would serve as her anvil. At the water’s edge, she stoked her fire and watched it burn down to coals. Maintaining the right temperature was the trick. When she felt she had it right, she removed the first piece from the sack: a bar of O1 steel, two inches wide, three feet long, three--eighths of an inch thick. From the sack she also withdrew a hammer, iron tongs, and thick leather gloves. She placed the end of the steel bar in the fire and watched its color change as the metal heated. Then she got to work.

 

It took three more trips downriver for supplies, and the results were crude, but in the end she was satisfied. She used coarse, stringy vines to wrap the handle, giving her fist a solid purchase on the otherwise smooth metal. Its weight was pleasant in her grip. The polished tip shone in the sun. But the first cut would be the true test. On her final trip downriver, she had wandered upon a field of melons, the size of human heads. They grew in a dense patch, tangled with vines of grasping, hand--shaped leaves. She’d selected one and carried it home in the sack. Now she balanced it atop a fallen log, took aim, and brought the sword down in a vertical arc. The severed halves rocked lazily away from each other, as if stunned, and flopped to the ground.

 

Nothing remained to hold her in place. The night before her departure, Alicia visited her daughter’s grave. She did not want to do this at the last second; her exit should be clean. For two years the place had gone unmarked. Nothing had seemed worthy. But leaving it unacknowledged felt wrong. With the last of her steel, she’d fashioned a cross. She used the hammer to tap it into the ground and knelt in the dirt. The body would be nothing now. Perhaps a few bones, or an impression of bones. Her daughter had passed into the soil, the trees, the rocks, even the sky and animals. She had gone into a place beyond knowing. Her untested voice was in the songs of birds, her cap of red hair in the flaming leaves of autumn. Alicia thought about these things, one hand touching the soft earth. But she had no more prayers inside her. The heart, once broken, stayed broken.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

 

Morning dawned unremarkably—-windless, gray, the air compacted with mist. The sword, sheathed in a deer--hide scabbard, lay across her back at an angle; her blades, tucked in their bandoliers, were cinched in an X over her chest. Dark, gogglelike glasses, with leather shields at the temples, concealed her eyes. She fixed the saddlebag in place and swung onto Soldier’s back. For days he’d roamed restlessly, sensing their imminent departure. Are we doing what I think we’re doing? I rather like it here, you know. Her plan was to ride east along the river, to follow its course through the mountains. With luck, she’d reach New York before the first leaves fell.

 

She closed her eyes, emptying her mind. Only when she had cleared this space would the voice emerge. It came from the same place dreams did, like wind from a cave, whispering into her ear.

 

Alicia, you are not alone. I know your sorrow, because it’s my own. I’m waiting for you, Lish. Come to me. Come home.

 

She tapped Soldier’s flanks with her heels.

 

2

 

The day was just ending when Peter returned to the house. Above him, the immense Utah sky was breaking open in long fingers of color against the deepening blue. An evening in early autumn: the nights were cold, the days still fair. He made his way homeward along the murmuring river, his pole over his shoulder, the dog ambling at his side. In his bag were two fat trout, wrapped in golden leaves.

 

As he approached the farmstead, he heard music coming from the house. He removed his muddy boots on the porch, put down his bag, and eased inside. Amy was sitting at the old upright piano, her back facing the door. He moved in quietly behind her. So total was her concentration that she failed to notice his entry. He listened without moving, barely with breath. Amy’s body was swaying slightly to the music. Her fingers moved nimbly up and down the keyboard, not so much playing the notes as calling them forth. The song was like a sonic embodiment of pure emotion. There was a deep heartache inside its phrases, but the feeling was expressed with such tenderness that it did not seem sad. It made him think of the way time felt, always falling into the past, becoming memory. 

 

“You’re home.”

 

The song had ended without his noticing. As he placed his hands on her shoulders, she shifted on the bench and tilted her face upward.

 

“Come here,” she said.

 

He bent to receive her kiss. Her beauty was astonishing, a fresh discovery every time he looked at her. He tipped his head at the keys. “I still don’t know how you do that,” he said.

 

“Did you like it?” She was smiling. “I’ve been practicing all day.”

 

He told her he did; he loved it. It made him think of so many things, he said. It was hard to put into words.

 

“How was the river? You were gone a long while.”

 

“Was I?” The day, like so many, had passed in a haze of contentment. “It’s so beautiful this time of year, I guess I just lost track.” He kissed the top of her head. Her hair was freshly washed, smelling of the herbs she used to soften the harsh lye. “Just play. I’ll get dinner going.”

 

He moved through the kitchen to the back door and into the yard. The garden was fading; soon it would sleep beneath the snow, the last of its bounty put up for winter. The dog had gone off on his own. His orbits were wide, but Peter never worried; always he would find his way home before dark. At the pump Peter filled the basin, removed his shirt, splashed water on his face and chest, and wiped himself down. The last rays of sun, ricocheting off the hillsides, lay long shadows on the ground. It was the time of day he liked best, the feeling of things merged into one another, everything held in suspension. As the darkness deepened he watched the stars appear, first one and then another and another. The feeling of the hour was the same as Amy’s song: memory and desire, happiness and sorrow, a beginning and an ending joined.

 

He started the fire, cleaned his catch, and set the soft white meat in the pan with a dollop of lard. Amy came outside and sat beside him while they watched their dinner cook. They ate in the kitchen by candlelight: the trout, sliced tomatoes, a potato roasted in the coals. Afterward they shared an apple. In the living room, they made a fire and settled on the couch beneath a blanket, the dog taking his customary place at their feet. They watched the flames without speaking; there was no need for words, all having been said between them, everything shared and known. When a certain time had passed, Amy rose and offered her hand.

 

“Come to bed with me.”

 

Carrying candles, they ascended the stairs. In the tiny bedroom under the eaves they undressed and huddled beneath the quilts, their bodies curled together for heat. At the foot of the bed, the dog exhaled a windy sigh and lowered himself to the floor. A good old dog, loyal as a lion: he would remain there until morning, watching over the two of them. The closeness and warmth of their bodies, the common rhythm of their breathing: it wasn’t happiness Peter felt but something deeper, richer. All his life he had wanted to be known by just one person. That’s what love was, he decided. Love was being known.

 

“Peter? What is it?”

 

Some time had passed. His mind, afloat in the dimensionless space between sleep and waking, had wandered to old memories.

 

“I was thinking about Theo and Maus. That night in the barn when the viral attacked.” A thought drifted by, just out of reach. “My brother never could figure out what killed it.”

 

For a moment, Amy was silent. “Well, that was you, Peter. You’re the one who saved them. I’ve told you—-don’t you remember?”

 

Had she? And what could she mean by such a statement? At the time of the attack, he had been in Colorado, many miles and days away. How could he have been the one?

 

“I’ve explained how this works. The farmstead is special. Past and present and future are all the same. You were there in the barn because you needed to be.”

 

“But I don’t remember doing it.”

 

“That’s because it hasn’t happened yet. Not for you. But the time will come when it does. You’ll be there to save them. To save Caleb.”

 

Caleb, his boy. He felt a sudden, overwhelming sadness, an intense and yearning love. Tears rose to his throat. So many years. So many years gone by.

 

“But we’re here now,” he said. “You and me, in this bed. That’s real.”

 

“There’s nothing more real in the world.” She nestled against him. “Let’s not worry about this now. You’re tired, I can tell.”

 

He was. So very, very tired. He felt the years in his bones. A memory touched down in his mind, of looking at his face in the river. When was that? Today? Yesterday? A week ago, a month, a year? The sun was high, making a sparkling mirror of the water’s surface. His reflection wavered in the current. The deep creases and sagging jowls, the pockets of flesh beneath eyes dulled by time, and his hair, what little remained, gone white, like a cap of snow. It was an old man’s face.

 

“Was I . . . dead?”

 

Amy gave no answer. Peter understood, then, what she was telling him. Not just that he would die, as everyone must, but that death was not the end. He would remain in this place, a watchful spirit, outside the walls of time. That was the key to everything; it opened a door beyond which lay the answer to all the mysteries of life. He thought of the day he’d first come to the farmstead, so very long ago. Everything inexplicably intact, the larder stocked, curtains on the windows and dishes on the table, as if it were waiting for them. That’s what this place was. It was his one true home in the world.

 

Lying in the dark, he felt his chest swell with contentment. There were things he had lost, people who had gone. All things passed away. Even the earth itself, the sky and the river and the stars he loved, would, one day, come to the end of their existence. But it was not a thing to be feared; such was the bittersweet beauty of life. He imagined the moment of his death. So forceful was this vision that it was as if he were not imagining but remembering. He would be lying in this very bed; it would be an afternoon in summer, and Amy would be holding him. She would look just as she did now, strong and beautiful and full of life. The bed faced the window, its curtains glowing with diffused light. There would be no pain, only a feeling of dissolution. It’s all right, Peter, Amy was saying. It’s all right, I’ll be there soon. The light would grow larger and larger, filling first his sight and then his consciousness, and that was how he would make his departure: he would leave on waves of light.

 

“I do love you so,” he said.

 

“And I love you.”

 

“It was a wonderful day, wasn’t it?”

 

She nodded against him. “And we’ll have many more. An ocean of days.”

 

He pulled her close. Outside, the night was cold and still. “It was a beautiful song,” he said. “I’m glad we found that piano.”

 

And with these words, curled together in their big, soft bed beneath the eaves, they floated off to sleep.

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M. Gottlieb
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Immensely Satisfying in Language and Storyline
Reviewed in the United States on June 3, 2016
I just finished City of Mirrors, and I''m partly writing this review so I can talk about it with somebody. I am a pretty voracious reader, but I''ve found that my patience for long books has waned in past years, maybe because we live more and more in a 140-character world.... See more
I just finished City of Mirrors, and I''m partly writing this review so I can talk about it with somebody. I am a pretty voracious reader, but I''ve found that my patience for long books has waned in past years, maybe because we live more and more in a 140-character world. City of Mirrors is the first book in a very long time that I wanted to savor, that I didn''t want to finish: parts of it left my jaw hanging and my eyes as wide as they can be opened.

It is not a perfect book: in my opinion, Cronin''s female characters are all a little too alike and a little too perfect: sassy, smart, headstrong (I know, could be much worse). When the men in his stories fall in love with these women, they fall instantaneously, hard, and forever, whether they''re 14 or 60. But I think that might be my only critique of his writing. So now that''s over with, I can sing its many, many praises.

Justin Cronin has a gift for creating sentences. His grasp of language and ability to use it to capture a moment so clearly it''s as though I''m watching a movie is unassailable, whether or not one appreciates his "genre." He is able to build a story like those cotton candy machines create their cloud of sugar: completely three-dimensional, yet diaphanous, with no more structure than absolutely necessary to hold the creation together. In an era where I truly believe we are witnessing the dumbing down of our language into tweetable, textable shortcuts, Cronin pulls out his dictionary and finds the exact right word to depict the emotion of the moment. There wasn''t a single time when I thought, "this is overwritten," or "less detail, please:" it was pitch-perfect in its creation of people, relationships, and the scenery upon which those relationships were played out.

I won''t give any spoilers: I''ll just say that for me, the book brought a very satisfying end to this epic tale. There might have been one or two places that felt a little too "tidy" and fortuitous, but overall his storytelling walks the balance between fantasy and true, imaginable possibility with utter grace. I am truly sorry to see these characters go, at least until I start reading the whole trilogy all over again, which I guarantee I will.
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M. CUMMINGS
2.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Boring, Disappointing, and Self-Indulgent
Reviewed in the United States on July 11, 2016
I loved the first book, liked the second, but this final novel was absolute torture to get through. Reading it reminded me of the feeling one has watching the last season of a TV show you once enjoyed that should have been cancelled long ago. Reading "City of... See more
I loved the first book, liked the second, but this final novel was absolute torture to get through. Reading it reminded me of the feeling one has watching the last season of a TV show you once enjoyed that should have been cancelled long ago. Reading "City of Mirrors," I found myself generally angry and aggravated with Cronin. Even his creativity with character names began to seem forced and lame and contrived ("Nessa?" "Olla?" Gag me.) By and large, however, Fanning''s 1980s Cambridge interlude was the worst and most self-indulgent nonsense I have ever been forced into reading. I''m not sure which Harvard Cronin attended in the 1980s, but I was aghast that he got so much of that era wrong. His characters behaved more like they were inhabiting the late 1950s and early 1960s as the segment began that I kept hearing the theme to "A Summer Place" and envisioning Cate Blanchett in her "The Talented Mr. Ripley" dresses. If I wanted to read a period piece about being in my late teens and early twenties during the 1980s I would have reread "Less than Zero" or "Bright Lights, Big City" (although technically Fanning starts school in late ''89.) The entire book required a strong, scolding, editor. The illustrations at the end of the book are an unexpected bright spot - but by then it is far too late.
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Suze
1.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
You HAVE To Be Kidding Me...
Reviewed in the United States on January 5, 2018
If you''re like me, you are here to commiserate about the profoundly lackluster ending to Justin Cronin''s Passage Trilogy. Mr. Cronin won''t see this, nor will his publishers, but airing my grievances will take a bit of the sting out of paying good money for a worthless book.... See more
If you''re like me, you are here to commiserate about the profoundly lackluster ending to Justin Cronin''s Passage Trilogy. Mr. Cronin won''t see this, nor will his publishers, but airing my grievances will take a bit of the sting out of paying good money for a worthless book. I didn''t originally come here to write a review, only to find validation from others as supremely disappointed as I was by this third book, which bears little resemblance to the previous two. Luckily, I read all three books in quick succession and wasn''t subjected to the added torture of having to wait four years for the final installment to windlessly limp over the finish line - THANK. GOD.

In no particular oder, these are my main beefs...

First - what the he** happened to Amy? This was HER trilogy and over the course of books two and three, she completely dissolved into absolute nothingness. Honestly, the last interesting thing she did was to free the souls of the virals in the first book. She was supposed to be the savior, her presence in the book was predicated on her powers, of her being the opposite of evil, she was supposed to save the world, but she lived a thousand years and completely FORGOT everything? She wrote some names on a friggin rock - that was her legacy? I have never read an ending as weak as this one.

Come to think of it - what happened to ALL of the female characters? They were some of the strongest story points and to end their lives so disappointingly is an extreme disservice to the audience who grew to love them for their strength and tenacity.

As mentioned in previous reviews, the hundred-plus pages devoted to Zero''s backstory is mind-numbing, unnecessary, out of place and pointless. I am a "high completion" type, so I didn''t have it in me to skip over this section, although now I really wish I would have. I had the sense at the end that I was supposed to somehow sympathize with Fanning, um, just because he didn''t die with Liz - really? He had time with her, they lived and loved - albeit shortly, but he had that. Killing billions of humans because of it? Not a single shred of sympathy here, bub. ZERO.

Pim lighting matches directly after being immersed in water. Um, what? And really, they made matches??
Oh and speaking of water - there was way too much fluidity with which virals could be brought back after drowning - I kept thinking - why the heck doesn''t Amy drown Peter, she knew it had that effect???

Thousands of people disappearing without raising any concerns - ridiculous given the history of these people.

The world in the Epilogue was frustratingly similar to the current world we live in - with cars and restaurants and tenure and male college professors with eyes for female undergrads - I''m surprised Cronin didn''t write something about the patches on the elbows of his tweed blazer. Here was an opportunity to cast the future in an entirely different light - maybe alternative fuels, alternative housing, non-traditional education, non-hierarchical social structures, alternative transportation, etc. But to think that Cronin had it in him to write anything of substance in what was clearly a phoned-in-after-the-check-was-cashed tome of nonsense is clearly asking way too much.

Anyone who read the first two books won''t skip City of Mirrors, even if they read the reviews first. Reading all of the other one and two star reviews helped me feel validated and certainly made me question where the heck all of those five star reviews came from - paid for, perhaps? I hope you''ve enjoyed, as I did, this ersatz book club, this space to commiserate, the Amazon City of Mirrors "one star club." Now I''m off to find something GOOD!
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Jack Stuart
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Good idea for trilogy but poorly executed.
Reviewed in the United States on January 27, 2019
I binge read all three novels and I so much wanted it to be better than it was. The premise was great; a little The Strain and a little The Stand, but the execution was not so great. I buzzed through whole sections - who really wants to read pages of whining from a guy who... See more
I binge read all three novels and I so much wanted it to be better than it was. The premise was great; a little The Strain and a little The Stand, but the execution was not so great. I buzzed through whole sections - who really wants to read pages of whining from a guy who killed billions because he didn’t get the girl? I also didn’t like that Fanning got the afterlife he did after said atrocities. I don’t believe in hell but that dude had lots more to learn on the earthly plane. I also didn’t like that Amy had to spend centuries
alone like some Old Testament prophet who pissed off God. Also, Michael and Alicia’s end didn’t track with how they were developed in the series. I’d kinda like to have my time back.

Added: I just read the one star reviews and I have to say potential readers should consider those before purchasing this book. If you have to read it - I get wanting to finish the series, use the library. I gave it 3 stars because parts of the first two books are really good. However, the author leaves the series with plot holes you could drive a truck thru. And, I really do want my money back.
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Josh Mauthe
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
An ambitious, more complex entry that sticks the landing, even though it''s a little lumpy at times.
Reviewed in the United States on June 3, 2016
Justin Cronin’s Passage series has always been fascinating for its refusal to easily be pigeonholed into any one genre. On one level, it’s an apocalyptic horror epic, one in which a tribe of vampiric creatures has wiped out most of the population of the Earth. On another... See more
Justin Cronin’s Passage series has always been fascinating for its refusal to easily be pigeonholed into any one genre. On one level, it’s an apocalyptic horror epic, one in which a tribe of vampiric creatures has wiped out most of the population of the Earth. On another level, it’s a survival story, one in which people are working to rebuild civilization in the face of unimaginable disaster. And on yet another level, it’s a rich character drama, one in which people’s choices and character arcs drive the action every bit as much as the threats around them.

That refusal to stick to any one genre is both the best and the most frustrating thing about The City of Mirrors, the final entry in the trilogy. At times uplifting, at times heartbreaking, at times terrifying, The City of Mirrors takes all of Cronin’s habits to extremes. This is a book that features the most terrifying and nightmarish sequence of any of the novels to date; it’s also one which dedicates a huge percentage to the backstory of its major villain – a backstory which is mainly about a young student navigating his complicated relationship with his friends and struggling with his attraction to one of them.

That means that City of Mirrors can often be frustrating, even while it’s constantly engaging. Cronin’s prose remains solid, and his willingness to focus on character depth has always been one of the pleasures of the series. Every character, no matter how major or minor, gets respect and a fully realized backstory; it’s a choice that’s paid off again and again in this series. The choice to go to this level of depth is a somewhat strange one, and one that undeniably hurts the pacing of this book. And yet, once you finish the book, you start to realize that Cronin has more on his mind than simply wrapping up his apocalyptic epic.

Indeed, you could be forgiven for thinking that Cronin had ended the series already. (Spoilers for The Twelve follow.) After all, by the end of the previous book, The Twelve, the titular Twelve – the original infected – had been destroyed, and peace seemed to be inevitable. Yes, Amy’s fate was up in the air, as was Alicia’s, but the story seemed to be at a sort of ending point. (Spoilers end.) Indeed, it’s a feeling shared by many characters in the novel, who feel that the story is at an end, and that humanity is finally entering a world of peace and rebuilding.

But The City of Mirrors reminds us that there’s one major threat still surviving, and focuses on that threat: the originator of the plague, a creature only known as Zero. And in Cronin’s hands, this final battle is as much ideological as it is physical. Is there any reason for hope? Does humanity deserve to survive? What, exactly, does survival mean, and at what cost should we attempt to survive? And what part does hope play in all of this? Cronin takes on the questions that underlie so many apocalyptic horror tales – from The Stand to The Fireman to The Walking Dead – and makes them part of the text, thus justifying the time spent on Zero’s backstory. Yes, it’s long, and it sort of wrecks the pacing…but it ends up being central to the philosophical battle at the heart of the novel.

That conflict extends all the way to the ending of the book, which finds Cronin looking at the far larger picture as to what it all means. It’s something he’s been hinting at all through the series, and yet that final section of The City of Mirrors is nonetheless quietly moving, giving us a true epilogue to the story, and an ending that nicely brings his themes together. The endings of apocalyptic tales are always complicated – just look at the three very different endings (or lack thereof) of the titles I mentioned above – and it’s rare to find one that moves so strongly toward optimism. And yet, it works here, giving an ending that both wraps up the story and feels emotionally satisfying. The City of Mirrors is an ambitious book, and one that’s far more “literary” and less conventional than its predecessors. And yet, nonetheless, it sticks the landing for the trilogy, satisfying the reader on a variety of levels while still providing the thrills and excitement we’ve come to demand from the series. It may be a little lumpy at points, but I’ll forgive that for the level of satisfaction that I got from the book as a whole.
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Scott
2.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Not What You Were Expecting
Reviewed in the United States on July 15, 2017
If you''ve read the other three and two star reviews on here, my comments will only mirror them. I do not usually comment on Amazon, but I believe Cronin''s finale to his "The Passage" trilogy deserves an exception. The first book, "The Passage", was great.... See more
If you''ve read the other three and two star reviews on here, my comments will only mirror them. I do not usually comment on Amazon, but I believe Cronin''s finale to his "The Passage" trilogy deserves an exception. The first book, "The Passage", was great. "The Twelve", the middle child, was good. This concluding chapter, is dull and, worse, almost a completely different story and genre entirely. The series should obviously have been a duology - the plot content of the second and third books could easily have been combined into a fantastic sequel to the original, in the process eliminating the filler and useless fluff of the last two books.

After page 100, that first section of the novel catching up (rather slowly) with what the characters have been up to since the end of "The Twelve", Cronin decides to start writing a generic "Love Story" piece that would sit nicely with knocks offs of "The Notebook." Seriously, the pretense of a sci-fi / horror / fantasy novel is completely dropped in favor of a first person account of "My Life and Loves in Harvard circa 199X."

Unfortunately, when we return to the world we recognize, things still don''t ever really get going. There just isn''t a tale to tell in the end. I truly do not understand the four and five star reviews here. This is the most disappointed I''ve been with the continuation of a favorite story since The Phantom Menace and Spider Man 3.
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Matt
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
I recommend going to Wiki and refreshing yourself on the first ...
Reviewed in the United States on July 19, 2016
So I read the first two books in the series as soon as they came out. There was a big lag between #2 and City of Mirrors (#3), and having read probably 100 books in between, I forget a lot of details about the characters and the story. If you''re in the same boat, I... See more
So I read the first two books in the series as soon as they came out. There was a big lag between #2 and City of Mirrors (#3), and having read probably 100 books in between, I forget a lot of details about the characters and the story. If you''re in the same boat, I recommend going to Wiki and refreshing yourself on the first two. After I did that (about 100 pages in), the book became much more enjoyable. I wouldn''t say I was as enthralled as I was reading the Passage or the Twelve, but it''s still a great book. I used to have intense, crazy Passage-dreams while reading that one. This isn''t quite as creepy, but still very well done. I especially enjoyed the slowest part of the whole book, the backstory of Fanning. I could read a whole book about him, it was so well-written. Well done Justin Cronin! What a trilogy. If it''s not obvious yet, do not read book this until you''ve ready the first two.
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Michael
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Religion and Philosophy Disguised as Action/Horror
Reviewed in the United States on April 1, 2019
I just finished up my second time reading through the Passage trilogy, and I honestly enjoyed it so much more this time around. Rather than being annoyed by the lack of clarity and reality in the action scenes, I found myself truly draw to the characters and emotions of... See more
I just finished up my second time reading through the Passage trilogy, and I honestly enjoyed it so much more this time around. Rather than being annoyed by the lack of clarity and reality in the action scenes, I found myself truly draw to the characters and emotions of the story Cronin is telling. In this volume he''s not telling a horror story, he''s writing the Old Testament of a new religion, with all of the various miracles, Christ-figures, and crisis of faith that entails. This should have been obvious during my first readthrough of the series (the recap at the beginning of Book 2 summarizes the journey of the "Apostles" using a King-James style), but I think I was less concerned about destination this time around. It''s also worth pointing out that about a quarter of a way through this book, there is a coming-of-age novella that might be one of the most beautiful things that I''ve ever read. My hat''s off to the author and this wonderful series which defies genre labels and I''m already looking forward to my next read of the series here in 3-5 years.
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Debs
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Didn''t live up to the others in the series (for me)
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on October 20, 2018
This just didn''t do it for me at all. It felt sluggish and unfocussed with story lines that kept being added or some that were just tailed off and were left hanging, and much of the book just seemed to drift. I know many have enjoyed it and found it a worthy conclusion to...See more
This just didn''t do it for me at all. It felt sluggish and unfocussed with story lines that kept being added or some that were just tailed off and were left hanging, and much of the book just seemed to drift. I know many have enjoyed it and found it a worthy conclusion to the trilogy but I was left feeling disappointed. ''The Passage'' was one of my favourite books - the action, plot and characters all hit me with a gut-punch and left me breathless and wanting more. Wow, what an amazing book. But whereas I loved ''The Passage'' and tolerated ''The Twelve'', I just couldn''t handle the dithering of ''The City of Mirrors''. For me, it just didn''t live up to its predecessors. However, the part that most reviews seem to dislike the most (Fanning''s backstory) was the part that I found the most intriguing as this was where Cronin played to his strengths again, in building characters. Characterisation was part of what hooked me in the first novel, and Fanning''s backstory seemed to focus on this once again.
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Ms. S. Baxter
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Absolutely wonderful trilogy
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on July 24, 2018
I read the first one a few years back and recently realised the author had written the last two. Bought book 2 and couldn''t put it down. On finishing Book 2, had to buy Book 3 immediately and could not put that down. An absolutely wonderful dystopian trilogy. Was shedding...See more
I read the first one a few years back and recently realised the author had written the last two. Bought book 2 and couldn''t put it down. On finishing Book 2, had to buy Book 3 immediately and could not put that down. An absolutely wonderful dystopian trilogy. Was shedding tears on the tube in the last quarter of the final book. The characters are so beautifully rendered - so 3 dimensional. I always get a bit bored with too much action type stuff and these books have a fair amount of it, but even that didn''t stop me loving them all. Again, it''s the characters being so well written - the beauty of the writing, the perfect story telling. For those who haven''t read any, it is an interesting take on the vampire mythology - not very much into vampire stuff as a rule but this trilogy takes it to a whole new level. If dystopian fiction is your thing, read it. If great characters with wonderful story arcs are your thing, read it. If you have thought about reading a genre like this before, read it......... I generally finish one book and pick up the next but struggling to start anything else right now as still lost in that world.
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Harmony Kent
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Exceptional Series Finish
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on September 4, 2019
The City of Mirrors is the final book in the trilogy The Passage. In the second book, the twelve were felled, and this changed the outcome for mankind. Or so they thought. Zero was still out there somewhere. He is the one who must be destroyed if mankind is to have a...See more
The City of Mirrors is the final book in the trilogy The Passage. In the second book, the twelve were felled, and this changed the outcome for mankind. Or so they thought. Zero was still out there somewhere. He is the one who must be destroyed if mankind is to have a future. All I can say is that this third and final book in the series didn’t disappoint, and the finale is not what I expected. Even though each book stands at around 700 to 800 pages, the author outdoes himself with fresh material at every turn. While these three tales make for epic reading, I cannot recommend this trilogy or the author highly enough. I rate The City of Mirrors a solid five stars. Go out and buy this series. I’ll be looking out for more books by Justin Cronin. *** NOTE ON RATINGS: I consider a 3-star rating a positive review. Picky about which books I give 5 stars to, I reserve this highest rating for the stories I find stunning and which moved me. 5 STARS: IT WAS AMAZING! I COULD NOT PUT IT DOWN! — Highly Recommended. 4 STARS: I WOULD PULL AN ALL-NIGHTER — Go read this book. 3 STARS: IT WAS GOOD! — An okay read. Didn’t love it. Didn’t hate it. 2 STARS: I MAY HAVE LIKED A FEW THINGS —Lacking in some areas: writing, characterisation, and/or problematic plot lines. 1 STAR: NOT MY CUP OF TEA —Lots of issues with this book.
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Doublek
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Good but can''t help to be disappointed at times
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on July 12, 2019
This is a brilliant trilogy, a really, really good story. However this third volume left me disappointed two thirds of the way through. It was just botched, I am sorry to say. The characters dying and undying so many times that I lost count. The artifical devices employed...See more
This is a brilliant trilogy, a really, really good story. However this third volume left me disappointed two thirds of the way through. It was just botched, I am sorry to say. The characters dying and undying so many times that I lost count. The artifical devices employed to keep the reader at the edge of the seat, some scenes ending after what felt like less than a page to hurry off to another scene and return again in a while. That gave me the opposite effect - I got turned off so badly that I nearly dropped the book and only persevered because the work overall deserves to be finished. The ending somewhat made up for the lame semi-ending section though and left off at a nicely rounded note. To me there was way too much of delving into the dreams of the characters without providing solid ground as to where those dreams connect up to what the story is really all about. All in all it is a great and recommended read for dystopia fans but this last one could have been better if some editor or outside influence had not pummeled the author into trying to pump up the action and the drama to a point where it became cliche and unenjoyable.
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Dekks
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Middle was a little challenging but worth it
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on October 13, 2020
The first third of the book I couldn''t stop turning the page and staying up too late reading it in bed, but the second third really seemed to bog down, I actually ended up taking a long break and forgot about it to be honest. Then I saw they''d made a TV series based on The...See more
The first third of the book I couldn''t stop turning the page and staying up too late reading it in bed, but the second third really seemed to bog down, I actually ended up taking a long break and forgot about it to be honest. Then I saw they''d made a TV series based on The Passage, and thought oh yeah I never did finish the last book. It''s a shame I didn''t persevere the first time around as a couple of chapters in and the pace really picked up, and found the last third of the book flew by. I actually found the last movements of the story quite beautiful really, though not entirely happy with some of the characters final endings, but overall a solid ending to the trilogy. Really I would rate it 3.5/5, but putting 4 stars felt fairer than 3.
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2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online

2021 new arrival The popular City of lowest Mirrors: A Novel (Passage Trilogy) online