The Passage

Recently, I find myself pulling fantasy novels off my bookshelf. Is it because I need an escape from the debilitating and constant unemployment situation? Because of the continuing and futile war, disappointment in Obama, floods and earthquakes killing so many people? Although I’ve always enjoyed fantasy and sci-fi (I loved Anne Rice 's vampire series, and the heroine in Dana Gabaldon’s Outlander series is one of the all-time greats of any genre), they don’t form the bulk of my library, and recently, I’ve been reading a lot of nonfiction. But it’s also true that since childhood, I’ve loved myths and fairy tales. I still periodically re-read them, and just bought a nice leather volume of Bullfinch’s Mythology at the latest AAUW Book Sale. Myths are, after all, our oldest stories. Stories of quests, strange creatures, and the battle of good versus evil remain as popular today as eons ago. (Also, the first novel I wrote turned out to be a fantasy novel – did I subconsciously want to write a tale like those that first hooked me on reading?)

My nephew recently lent me The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly, which was very well-written. I particularly enjoyed his history of the fairy tales used in the book, in an appendix to the novel.

The book that’s lingered in my head for weeks now, though, through others I’ve read in the meantime, is The Passage, by Justin Cronin. I bought the book after reading an interview with him on the Powell’s Books website (http://www.powells.com/); the book sounded intriguing, and I was in the mood for escape after the two tomes I’d just finished (see earlier blog).

The theory voiced most often in the media in explanation of the spate of films and novels about vampires and zombies in the past few years is this: We feel helpless in relation to the economy, environmental disasters, and endless and futile wars (sounds like I fit right in). These vampire/zombie films and novels voice our helplessness in the face of implacable foes that can’t be killed and which we can’t control.

From the first chapter, Cronin convinces us that his world is real. It could be our world, which is what makes it truly frightening. Although The Passage is dark and terrifying, it’s also full of compassion for its characters. The unlikely heroine is a child, but there is another character whose presence remains throughout the book even after he’s physically left the scene, and was, to me, the true hero.

These vampires are unapproachable and not the least enigmatic, unlike Lestat or Louis (or Edward in the Twilight series). They’ve been created by man, and man can’t fix the terror he’s unleashed.

My only complaint is the ending. I felt the same way after reading the long and creepy, and sometimes maddeningly repetitive novel, Drood. This ending isn’t as frustrating, but I did have the same urge, though only momentary this time, to toss the book across the room. Then I re-read the last chapter and thought maybe it had to end that way. Or did it? Cronin’s definitely left things open for a sequel.