The Ferryman by Justin Cronin

Published by Ballantine Books on May 2, 2023

The Ferryman surprised me. More specifically, I’m surprised I liked it. While I was reading it, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. The story makes little sense until about two-thirds of it has been told. Once everything came into focus, my mind unclenched and I realized that Justin Cronin had been hiding the real story.

I can’t describe what the novel is really about without spoiling the surprise, so I’ll try to convey a sense of what it seems to be about. The first 300-plus pages introduce about a dozen characters whose shifting roles are likely intended to puzzle the reader.

The protagonist, Proctor Bennett, is a ferryman. Proctor lives on an archipelago called Prospera. At the age of sixteen, he became the ward of his guardians, Cynthia and Malcolm. Adopting a ward is something that people in their position are expected to do. At some point after becoming Procter's guardian, Cynthia did something Prosperans aren’t expected to do. She rowed into the sea, wrapped an anchor around her ankle, and jumped into the water.

Prosperans don’t have children in the usual, biological way. Children are raised on a separate island called the Nursery and brought to Prospera. Not having to raise kids — never having to worry about protecting or losing an infant — might be why their lives are so good.

Everyone in Prospera is hardwired to a gadget that is implanted in their arms. The gadget calculates something like a wellness score. If a resident’s score becomes too low, a Writ of Compulsory Retirement is issued and a ferryman arrives to escort the resident back to the Nursery where they undergo a regenerative process. They aren’t supposed to remember their old lives when they are reborn. As a child, Proctor had dreams that were explained as echoes of a former life. Dreaming is uncommon among Prosperans.

Prospera exists behind an electromagnetic barrier called the Veil that shields Prospera (representing the best of the world) from the worst of the world. Nobody has ever passed beyond the veil and returned.

Prospera seems to be a utopia. For a time, it put me in mind of Erewhon. Both novels begin with a detailed description of a society that is very different from ours before it becomes apparent that the differences are not as great as they appear. At times, Cronin almost adopts Samuel Butler’s formalistic writing style.

As is true in Erewhon, the reader realizes that Prospera is far from utopian. The wealthy citizens live extraordinarily good lives. The servant class lives in squalor. Wealthy Prosperans don’t seem to notice.

Prosperans need a servant class so they can devote themselves to creative and scholarly pursuits. Proctor’s wife Elise is an artist. Her mother is someone important. Procter’s career as a ferryman is a bit disappointing to his family, although he is a managing director of the Department of Social Contracts.

Procter meets a female child who seems to come from nowhere. She wants Procter to teach her to swim. When she disappears, Procter realizes that she seems to tie into the dreams he used to have.

As the story progresses, life in Prospera becomes unsettled. Watchers use drones to maintain surveillance on protestors and use cattle prods to keep them in their place. A woman named Thea is part of a social or religious movement that uses the slogan “Arrival come.” The word Arrival conjures an event like the Rapture. Procter’s life and marriage also become unsettled. Things look bleak when his wellness score falls into the single digits.

Late in the novel, long after we learn what the story is really about, we discover that the story hinges on a morally dubious choice that Procter made, a choice that causes many to despise him. Did he make the right choice? The question is intriguing because it isn’t easily answered. In any event, Procter evolves into a multifaceted, sympathetic character who, in the end, must make a difficult choice that will define his future in a world that, for most of the novel, he didn’t understand.

A theme of haves versus have-nots ends in a way that should please most readers (I assume most readers will take the side of the have-nots, but I might be mistaken). I suspect that the novel’s transition to a story that requires the reader to adopt a new understanding of Prospera will also please readers. I have to admit that I didn’t see it coming.

I was certainly glad the change came because a story that seemed to be falling apart suddenly became clear. The story is structured to fall apart and then to be rebuilt in a way that gives new meaning to the fallen pieces. I give Cronin props for his creative misdirection. I also give him credit for crafting such a fresh and original plot. The novel might be wordier than necessary, but I enjoyed the words.

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