One Door Away from Heaven

( 158 )

Overview

"In a dusty trailer park on the far edge of the California dream, Michelina Bellsong contemplates the choices she has made. At twenty-eight, she wants to change the direction of her troubled life but can't find her way - until a new family settles into the rental trailer next door and she meets the young girl who will lead her on a remarkable quest." "Despite the brace she must wear on her deformed left leg, and her withered left hand, nine-year-old Leilani Klonk radiates a buoyant and indomitable spirit that inspires Micky. Beneath Leilani's
... See more details below
Available through our Marketplace sellers and in stores.

Pick Up In Store Near You

Reserve and pick up in 60 minutes at your local store

Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (304) from $1.99   
  • New (9) from $1.99   
  • Used (295) from $1.99   
Close
Sort by
Page 1 of 1
Showing 1 – 7 of 9
Note: Marketplace items are not eligible for any BN.com coupons and promotions
$1.99
Seller since 2011

Feedback rating:

(64)

Condition:

New — never opened or used in original packaging.

Like New — packaging may have been opened. A "Like New" item is suitable to give as a gift.

Very Good — may have minor signs of wear on packaging but item works perfectly and has no damage.

Good — item is in good condition but packaging may have signs of shelf wear/aging or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Acceptable — item is in working order but may show signs of wear such as scratches or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Used — An item that has been opened and may show signs of wear. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Refurbished — A used item that has been renewed or updated and verified to be in proper working condition. Not necessarily completed by the original manufacturer.

New
2002 Mass-market paperback New in new dust jacket. Brand New Book. Mass market (rack) paperback. Glued binding. 704 p. Audience: General/trade. Fiction Mass Market Paperback ... 9780553582758 Hailed as America s most popular suspense novelist (Rolling Stone) Dean Koontz has entered a rich new phase of his writing career that is yielding his most imaginative, meaningful, and popular work yet. At the height of his powers as a literary craftsman, he has won the acclaim of critics as well as the allegiance of millions of fans the world over, transforming the greatest fears and hopes of our time into masterworks of dazzling originality and emotional resonance. Now, with the stunning depth and virtuosity of his storytelling, he brings to readers one of his most gripping and richly imagined novels to date an intoxicating story of adventure and suspense, mystery and revelation, told with humor, heart, and high art. One Door Away From HeavenIn a dusty trailer park on the far edge of the California dream, Michelina Bel Read more Show Less

Ships from: St Petersburg, FL

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(68)

Condition: New

Ships from: Granite Falls, MN

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
$1.99
Seller since 2013

Feedback rating:

(21)

Condition: New
MASS MARKET PAPERBACK New 0553582755 FAST shipping. New Unread Book.

Ships from: FORT LAUDERDALE, FL

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$2.74
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(71)

Condition: New
Ships same day. Very slight shelf wear/age.Tracking included.Little faded.

Ships from: Hastings, MI

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
$2.86
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(71)

Condition: New
Ships same day. Very slight shelf wear/age.Tracking included.

Ships from: Hastings, MI

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
$2.87
Seller since 2010

Feedback rating:

(127)

Condition: New
Excellent condition. Interior is tight, bright and clean. Paperback cover has minor scuffing, light creases and corner bumps from shelf wear. 100% Satisfaction Guaranteed. All ... items are carefully enclosed with bubble wrap. We ship promptly and worldwide via US Post and will email you a tracking number. Read more Show Less

Ships from: Emigrant, MT

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$4.29
Seller since 2005

Feedback rating:

(141)

Condition: New
2002-10-29 Mass Market Paperback New NEW: First Printing (complete # line) for you collectors. Paperback, no markings, no creases.

Ships from: Holly Springs, NC

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
Page 1 of 1
Showing 1 – 7 of 9
Close
Sort by
One Door Away from Heaven: A Novel

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • NOOK HD/HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK Study
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$9.99
BN.com price
Marketplace
BN.com

All Available Formats & Editions

Overview

"In a dusty trailer park on the far edge of the California dream, Michelina Bellsong contemplates the choices she has made. At twenty-eight, she wants to change the direction of her troubled life but can't find her way - until a new family settles into the rental trailer next door and she meets the young girl who will lead her on a remarkable quest." "Despite the brace she must wear on her deformed left leg, and her withered left hand, nine-year-old Leilani Klonk radiates a buoyant and indomitable spirit that inspires Micky. Beneath Leilani's effervescence, however, Micky comes to sense a quiet desperation that the girl dares not express. Leilani's mother is lost in drugs. The girl's stepfather, Preston Maddoc, is educated but threatening. He has moved the family from place to place as he fanatically investigates UFO sightings, striving to make contact, claiming to have had a vision that by Leilani's tenth birthday aliens will either heal her or take her away to a better life on their world. Slowly, ever more troubling details emerge in Leilani's conversations with Micky. Most chilling is Micky's discovery the Leilani had an older brother, also disabled, who vanished after Maddoc took him into the woods one night and is now "gone to the stars."" Leilani's tenth birthday is approaching. Micky is convinced the girl will be dead by that day. While the child-protection bureaucracy gives Micky the runaround, the Maddoc family slips away into the night. Micky sets out across America to track and find them, alone and afraid but for the first time living for something bigger than herself. She finds herself pitted against an adversary, Preston Maddoc, as fearsome as he is cunning. Yet Micky pursues her quest, and her passion, her courage, draw a burned-out detective to her side. Hundreds of miles away, a motherless boy and a homeless dog begin an even more astonishing journey. Ahead for them all lie incredible peril, startling discoveries, and paths that will draw them
Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble

The Barnes & Noble Review
For decades, Dean Koontz has been a forerunner in the art of merging genre material in order to create unique thrillers strewn with elements of fantasy and science fiction. In recent years though, he's taken on greater moral and spiritual themes, and in One Door Away from Heaven, he touches on bioethicism, a belief system that includes euthanasia of the disabled and infirm.

A woman in her late 20s, Micky Bellsong is beginning to feel the pressures of not having her life sorted out. She drinks too much, has no romantic relationship, and still lacks stable employment. While staying in the trailer home of her Aunt Geneva, Micky meets the hyperintellectual but physically deformed Leilani Klonk, a nine-year-old whose wild personal stories involve aliens and a murderous stepfather called Dr. Doom who preys on the frail and the elderly. Initially, Micky believes Leilani is just an imaginative child, but she soon realizes that there may be some truth to the tall tales. Before she can clearly understand what's going on at the trailer home next door, Micky must make a choice when Leilani's family packs up and hits the road: Forget everything she's heard, or pursue the girl and learn the facts, no matter what the cost.

Simply put, this is Koontz as his best. His narrative voice is graceful and inviting, and the tension of the plot slowly grows taut, leaving the reader unsure of what the reality of the story is. The protagonists are all wonderfully eccentric, sympathetic, and droll. In the Koontz canon of irresistible and beloved characters, Einstein, the intelligent dog from Watchers, probably ranks the highest, but the spirited and spunky Leilani Klonk will surely become just as unforgettable.

With One Door Away from Heaven, Koontz hasn't only given us a masterpiece of suspense; he's also written one of the wittiest, most humane and heartfelt novels of his career. You deserve to treat yourself to this book. (Tom Piccirilli)

Publishers Weekly
Koontz's latest is powered by an impassioned stand against utilitarian bioethics, and it's chock-a-block with trademark characters vulnerable kids, nurturing parental substitutes, a dog of above-average intelligence and a villain of insuperable nastiness sure to provoke a pleasurable conditioned response from his readers. The discursive story coalesces from two converging subplots steeped in the weirdness of fringe ufology: in one, loser Michelina Bellsong struggles to save crippled nine-year-old Leilani Klonk from an evil stepdad planning to pass off her imminent disposal as a benevolent alien abduction; in the other, a strange boy who goes by the alias Curtis Hammond is the quarry of two cross-country manhunts, one led by the FBI and the other by mass murderers who, like the messianic Curtis, may not be what they seem. En route to a pyrotechnic finale in rural Idaho, Koontz shoots bull's-eyes at target issues that shape his theme, including assisted suicide, substance abuse, the irresponsibility of the counterculture and the goofiness of true-believer ET enthusiasts. Koontz's once form-fitting style has gotten baggy of late, however, and readers may find themselves wishing he had better filtered the flights of fancy his characters sometimes indulge at chapter length. For all that, the novel is surprisingly focused on its inspirational message "we are the instruments of one another's salvation and only by the hope that we give to others do we lift ourselves out of the darkness into light" and conveys it with such conviction that only the most critical will demur. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
The Koontz of the darkly concentrated 1996 suspense masterpiece Intensity has clearly walked over a bed of glowing coals, emerged spiritually recharged by the Presence, and now disgorges sweetness and light along with suspense, even more so than in his most recent page-turner, From the Corner of His Eye. Here, Koontz enters the field of bioethics, with medical utilitarianism facing moral values. Of course, with his fearless imagination at work, this is not your typical tract novel. Bilious Micky Bellsong's fractured spirit needs splints until she meets crippled young Leilani Klonk, who lives in the trailer next to Micky's and calls herself a mutant, not a cripple. Leilani's family believes in spiritual DNA infusions from aliens-in fact, they know her brother was abducted by aliens. Koontz tilts against a heartless idealism that sees humanity as just meat and allows euthanasia of infants with health problems, suffering old people, and those much better off with a little help getting dead and leaving life to the bioethicists. Do ETs actually show up? And if so, how truly alien is an alien? We're not telling.
From the Publisher
“Suspense, humor and plenty of heart . . . spooky and satisfying.”—People
 
“A web of intrigue . . . Koontz lets the reader glide along, turning the pages in wonder.”—The Denver Post
 
“A thrilling chase, adventure, mystery, suspense . . . funny, scary, filled with unexpected plot twists—Koontz at the top of his considerable form.”—Toronto Sun
 
“Fearless imagination . . . Koontz lights up a dark galaxy.”—Kirkus Reviews
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780553582758
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 10/29/2002
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 681
  • Product dimensions: 4.19 (w) x 6.85 (h) x 1.14 (d)

Meet the Author

Dean Koontz
Dean Koontz, the author of many #1 New York Times bestsellers, lives with his wife, Gerda, and their dog, Trixie, in southern California.

Biography

He is one of the most recognized, read, and loved suspense writers of the 20th century. His imagination is a veritable factory of nightmares, conjuring twisted tales of psychological complexity. He even has a fan in Stephen King. For decades, Dean Koontz's name has been synonymous with terror, and his novels never fail to quicken the pulse and set hearts pounding.

Koontz has a lifelong love of writing that led him to spend much of his free time as an adult furiously cultivating his style and voice. However, it was only after his wife Gerda made him an offer he couldn't refuse while he was teaching English at a high school outside of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, that he had a real opportunity to make a living with his avocation. Gerda agreed to support Dean for five years, during which time he could try to get his writing career off the ground. Little did she know that by the end of that five years she would be leaving her own job to handle the financial end of her husband's massively successful writing career.

Koontz first burst into the literary world with 1970's Beastchild, a science fiction novel that appealed to genre fans with its descriptions of aliens and otherworldly wars but also mined deeper themes of friendship and the breakdown of communication. Although it is not usually ranked among his classics, Beastchild provided the first inkling of Koontz's talent for populating even the most fantastical tale with fully human characters. Even at his goriest or most terrifying, he always allows room for redemption.

This complexity is what makes Koontz's work so popular with readers. He has a true gift for tempering horror with humanity, grotesqueries with lyricism. He also has a knack for genre-hopping, inventing Hitchcockian romantic mysteries, crime dramas, supernatural thrillers, science fiction, and psychological suspense with equal deftness and imagination. Perhaps The Times (London) puts it best: "Dean Koontz is not just a master of our darkest dreams, but also a literary juggler."

Good To Know

Shortly after graduating from college, Koontz took a job with the Appalachian Poverty Program where he would tutor and counsel underprivileged kids. However, after finding out that the last person who held his job had been beaten up and hospitalized by some of these kids, Koontz was more motivated than ever to get his writing career going.

When Koontz was a senior in college, he won the Atlantic Monthly fiction competition.

Koontz and Kevin Anderson's novel Frankenstein: The Prodigal Son was slotted to become a television series produced by Martin Scorsese. However, when the pilot failed to sell, the USA Network aired it as a TV movie in 2004. By that time Koontz had removed his name from the project.

Some fun and fascinating outtakes from our interview with Koontz:

"My wife, Gerda, and I took seven years of private ballroom dancing lessons, twice a week, ninety minutes each time. After we had gotten good at everything from swing to the foxtrot, we not only stopped taking lessons, but also stopped going dancing. Learning had been great fun; but for both of us, going out for an evening of dancing proved far less exhilarating than the learning. We both have a low boredom threshold. Now we dance at a wedding or other celebration perhaps once a year, and we're creaky."

"On my desk is a photograph given to me by my mother after Gerda and I were engaged to be married. It shows 23 children at a birthday party. It is neither my party nor Gerda's. I am three years old, going on four. Gerda is three. In that crowd of kids, we are sitting directly across a table from each other. I'm grinning, as if I already know she's my destiny, and Gerda has a serious expression, as if she's worried that I might be her destiny. We never met again until I was a senior in high school and she was a junior. We've been trying to make up for that lost time ever since.

"Gerda and I worked so much for the first two decades of our marriage that we never took a real vacation until our twentieth wedding anniversary. Then we went on a cruise, booking a first-class suite, sparing no expense. For more than half the cruise, the ship was caught in a hurricane. The open decks were closed because waves would have washed passengers overboard. About 90% of the passengers spent day after day in their cabins, projectile vomiting. We discovered that neither of us gets seasick. We had the showrooms, the casino, and the buffets virtually to ourselves. Because the crew had no one to serve, our service was exemplary. The ship dared not try to put into the scheduled ports; it was safer on the open sea. The big windows of the main bar presented a spectacular view of massive waves and lightning strikes that stabbed the sea by the score. Very romantic. We had a grand time.

Read More Show Less
    1. Also Known As:
      David Axton, Brian Coffey, K.R. Dwyer, Deanna Dwyer, John Hill, Leigh Nichols, Anthony North, Richard Paige, Owen West, Aaron Wolfe
    2. Hometown:
      Newport Beach, California
    1. Date of Birth:
      July 9, 1945
    2. Place of Birth:
      Everett, Pennsylvania
    1. Education:
      B.S. (major in English), Shippensburg University, 1966
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

THE WORLD IS FULL of broken people. Splints, casts, miracle drugs, and time can’t mend fractured hearts, wounded minds, torn spirits.

Currently, sunshine was Micky Bellsong’s medication of choice, and southern California in late August was an apothecary with a deep supply of this prescription.

Tuesday afternoon, wearing a bikini and oiled for broiling, Micky reclined in a lounge chair in her aunt Geneva’s backyard. The nylon webbing was a nausea-inducing shade of green, and it sagged, too, and the aluminum joints creaked as though the lawn furniture were far older than Micky, who was only twenty-eight, but who sometimes felt ancient.

Her aunt, from whom fate had stolen everything except a reliable sense of humor, referred to the yard as “the garden.” That would be the rosebush.

The property was wider than it was deep, to allow the full length of the house trailer to face the street. Instead of a lawn with trees, a narrow covered patio shaded the front entrance. Here in back, a strip of grass extended from one side of the lot to the other, but it provided a scant twelve feet of turf between the door and the rear fence. The grass flourished because Geneva watered it regularly with a hose.

The rosebush, however, responded perversely to tender care. In spite of ample sunshine, water, and plant food, in spite of the regular aeration of its roots and periodic treatment with measured doses of insecticide, the bush remained as scraggly and as blighted as any specimen watered with venom and fed pure sulfur in the satanic gardens of Hell.

Face to the sun, eyes closed, striving to empty her mind of all thought, yet troubled by insistent memories, Micky had been cooking for half an hour when a small sweet voice asked, “Are you suicidal?”

She turned her head toward the speaker and saw a girl of nine or ten standing at the low, sagging picket fence that separated this trailer space from the one to the west. Sun glare veiled the kid’s features.

“Skin cancer kills,” the girl explained.

“So does vitamin D deficiency.”

“Not likely.”

“Your bones get soft.”

“Rickets. I know. But you can get vitamin D in tuna, eggs, and dairy products. That’s better than too much sun.”

Closing her eyes again, turning her face to the deadly blazing heavens, Micky said, “Well, I don’t intend to live forever.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but nobody does.”

“I probably will,” the girl declared.

“How’s that work?”

“A little extraterrestrial DNA.”

“Yeah, right. You’re part alien.”

“Not yet. I have to make contact first.”

Micky opened her eyes again and squinted at the ET wannabe. “You’ve been watching too many reruns of The X Files, kid.”

“I’ve only got until my next birthday, and then all bets are off.” The girl moved along the swooning fence to a point where it had entirely collapsed. She clattered across the flattened section of pickets and approached Micky. “Do you believe in life after death?”

“I’m not sure I believe in life before death,” Micky said.

“I knew you were suicidal.”

“I’m not suicidal. I’m just a wiseass.”

Even after stepping off the splintered fence staves onto the grass, the girl moved awkwardly. “We’re renting next door. We just moved in. My name’s Leilani.”

As Leilani drew closer, Micky saw that she wore a complicated steel brace on her left leg, from the ankle to above the knee.

“Isn’t that a Hawaiian name?” Micky asked.

“My mother’s a little nuts about all things Hawaiian.”

Leilani wore khaki shorts. Her right leg was fine, but in the cradle of steel and padding, her left leg appeared to be malformed.

“In fact,” Leilani continued, “old Sinsemilla — that’s my mother — is a little nuts, period.”

“Sinsemilla? That’s a . . .”

“Type of marijuana. Maybe she was Cindy Sue or Barbara way back in the Jurassic period, but she’s called herself Sinsemilla as long as I’ve known her.” Leilani settled into a hideous orange-and-blue chair as decrepit as Micky’s bile-green lounge. “This lawn furniture sucks.”

“Someone gave it to Aunt Geneva for nothing.”

“She ought to’ve been paid to take it. Anyway, they put old Sinsemilla in an institution once and shot like fifty or a hundred thousand volts of electricity through her brain, but it didn’t help.”

“You shouldn’t make up stuff like that about your own mother.”

Leilani shrugged. “It’s the truth. I couldn’t make up anything as weird as what is. In fact, they blasted her brain several times. Probably, if they’d done it just once more, old Sinsemilla would’ve developed a taste for electricity. Now she’d be sticking her finger in a socket about ten times a day. She’s an addictive personality, but she means well.”

Although the sky was a furnace grate, although Micky was slick with coconut-scented lotion and sweat, she’d grown all but oblivious of the sun. “How old are you, kid?”

“Nine. But I’m precocious. What’s your name?”

“Micky.”

“That’s a name for a boy or a mouse. So it’s probably Michelle. Most women your age are named Michelle or Heather or Courtney.”

“My age?”

“No offense intended.”

“It’s Michelina.”

Leilani wrinkled her nose. “Too precious.”

“Michelina Bellsong.”

“No wonder you’re suicidal.”

“Therefore — Micky.”

“I’m Klonk.”

“You’re what?”

“Leilani Klonk.”

Micky cocked her head and frowned skeptically. “I’m not sure I should believe anything you tell me.”

“Sometimes names are destiny. Look at you. Two pretty names, and you’re as gorgeous as a model — except for all the sweat and your face puffy with a hangover.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

“Me, on the other hand — I’ve got one pretty name followed by a clinker like Klonk. Half of me is sort of pretty — ”

“You’re very pretty,” Micky assured her.

This was true. Golden hair. Eyes as blue as gentian petals. The clarity of Leilani’s features promised that hers was not the transient beauty of childhood, but an enduring quality.

“Half of me,” Leilani conceded, “might turn heads one day, but that’s balanced by the fact that I’m a mutant.”

“You’re not a mutant.”

The girl stamped her left foot on the ground, causing the leg brace to rattle softly. She raised her left hand, which proved to be deformed: The little finger and the ring finger were fused into a single misshapen digit that was connected by a thick web of tissue to a gnarled and stubby middle finger.

Until now, Micky hadn’t noticed this deformity. “Everyone’s got imperfections,” she said.

“This isn’t like having a big schnoz. I’m either a mutant or a cripple, and I refuse to be a cripple. People pity cripples, but they’re afraid of mutants.”

“You want people to be afraid of you?”

“Fear implies respect,” Leilani said.

“So far, you’re not registering high on my terror meter.”

“Give me time. You’ve got a great body.”

Disconcerted to hear such a thing from a child, Micky covered her discomfort with self-deprecation: “Yeah, well, by nature I’m a huge pudding. I’ve got to work hard to stay like this.”

“No you don’t. You were born perfect, and you’ve got one of those metabolisms tuned like a space-shuttle gyroscope. You could eat half a cow and drink a keg of beer every day, and your butt would actually tighten up a notch.”

Micky couldn’t remember the last time that she’d been rendered speechless by anyone, but with this girl, she was nearly befuddled into silence. “How would you know?”

“I can tell,” Leilani assured her. “You don’t run, you don’t power walk — ”

“I work out.”

“Oh? When was your last workout?”

“Yesterday,” Micky lied.

“Yeah,” said Leilani, “and I was out waltzing all night.” She stamped her left foot again, rattling her leg brace. “Having a great metabolism is nothing to be ashamed about. It’s not like laziness or anything.”

“Thanks for your approval.”

“Your boobs are real, aren’t they?”

“Girl, you are an amazing piece of work.”

“Thanks. They must be real. Even the best implants don’t look that natural. Unless there’s major improvement in implant technology, my best hope is to develop good boobs. You can be a mutant and still attract men if you’ve got great boobs. That’s been my observation, anyway. Men can be lovely creatures, but in some ways, they’re pathetically predictable.”

“You’re nine, huh?”

“My birthday was February twenty-eighth. That was Ash Wednesday this year. Do you believe in fasting and penitence?”

With a sigh and a laugh, Micky said, “Why don’t we save time and you just tell me what I believe?”

“Probably not much of anything,” Leilani said, without a pause. “Except in having fun and getting through the day.”

Micky was left speechless not by the child’s acute perception but by hearing the truth put so bluntly, especially as this was a truth that she had long avoided contemplating.

“Nothing wrong with having fun,” said Leilani. “One of the things I believe, if you want to know, is that we’re here to enjoy life.” She shook her head. “Amazing. Men must be all over you.”

“Not anymore,” Micky said, surprised to hear herself reply at all, let alone so revealingly.

A lopsided smile tugged at the right corner of the girl’s mouth, and unmistakable merriment enlivened her blue eyes. “Now don’t you wish you could see me as a mutant?”

“What?”

“As long as you think of me as a handicapped waif, your pity doesn’t allow you to be impolite. On the other hand, if you could see me as a weird and possibly dangerous mutant, you’d tell me none of this is my business, and you’d hustle me back to my own yard.”

“You’re looking more like a mutant all the time.”

Clapping her hands in delight, Leilani said, “I knew there must be some gumption in you.” She rose from her chair with a hitch and pointed across the backyard. “What’s that thing?”

“A rosebush.”

“No, really.”

“Really. It’s a rosebush.”

“No roses.”

“The potential’s there.”

“Hardly any leaves.”

“Lots of thorns, though,” Micky noted.

Squinching her face, Leilani said, “I bet it pulls up its roots late at night and creeps around the neighborhood, eating stray cats.”

“Lock your doors.”

“We don’t have cats.” Leilani blinked. “Oh.” She grinned. “Good one.” She hooked her right hand into an imitation of a claw, raked the air, and hissed.

“What did you mean when you said ‘all bets are off’?”

“When did I say that?” Leilani asked disingenuously.

“You said you’ve only got until your next birthday, and then all bets are off.”

“Oh, the alien-contact thing.”

Although that wasn’t an answer, she turned away from Micky and crossed the lawn in a steel-stiffened gait.

Micky leaned forward from the angled back of the lounge chair. “Leilani?”

“I say a lot of stuff. Not all of it means anything.” At the gap in the broken fence, the girl stopped and turned. “Say, Michelina Bellsong, did I ask whether you believe in life after death?”

“And I was a wise-ass.”

“Yeah, I remember now.”

“So . . . do you?” Micky asked.

“Do I what?”

“Believe in life after death?”

Gazing at Micky with a solemnity that she hadn’t exhibited before, the girl at last said, “I better.”

As she negotiated the fallen pickets and crossed the neglected sun-browned lawn next door, the faint click-and-squeak of her leg brace faded until it could have been mistaken for the language of industrious insects hard at work in the hot, dry air.

For a while after the girl had gone into the neighboring house trailer, Micky sat forward in the lounge chair, staring at the door through which she had disappeared.

Leilani was a pretty package of charm, intelligence, and cocky attitude that masked an aching vulnerability. But while remembered moments of their encounter now brought a smile to Micky, she was also left with a vague uneasiness. Like a quick dark fish, some disturbing half-glimpsed truth had seemed to dart beneath the surface of their conversation, though it eluded her net.

The liquid-thick heat of the late-August sun pooled around Micky. She felt as though she were floating in a hot bath.

The scent of recently mown grass saturated the still air: the intoxicating essence of summer.

In the distance rose the lulling rumble-hum of freeway traffic, a not unpleasant drone that might be mistaken for the rhythmic susurration of the sea.

She should have grown drowsy, at least lethargic, but her mind hummed more busily than the traffic, and her body grew stiff with a tension that the sun couldn’t cook from her.

Although it seemed unrelated to Leilani Klonk, Micky recalled something that her aunt Geneva had said only the previous evening, over dinner. . . .

“CHANGE ISN’T EASY, Micky. Changing the way you live means changing how you think. Changing how you think means changing what you believe about life. That’s hard, sweetie. When we make our own misery, we sometimes cling to it even when we want so bad to change, because the misery is something we know. The misery is comfortable.”

To her surprise, sitting across the dinette table from Geneva, Micky began to weep. No racking sobs. Discreet, this weeping. The plate of homemade lasagna blurred in front of her, and hot tears slid down her cheeks. She kept her fork in motion throughout this silent salty storm, loath to acknowledge what was happening to her.

She hadn’t cried since childhood. She’d thought that she was beyond tears, too tough for self-pity and too hardened to be moved by the plight of anyone else. With grim determination, angry with herself for this weakness, she continued eating even though her throat grew so thick with emotion that she had difficulty swallowing.

Geneva, who knew her niece’s stoic nature, nevertheless didn’t seem surprised by the tears. She didn’t comment on them, because she surely knew that consolation wouldn’t be welcome.

By the time Micky’s vision cleared and her plate was clean, she was able to say, “I can do what I need to do. I can get where I want to go, no matter how hard it is.”

Geneva added one thought before changing the subject: “It’s also true that sometimes — not often, but once in a great while — your life can change for the better in one moment of grace, almost a sort of miracle. Something so powerful can happen, someone so special come along, some precious understanding descend on you so unexpectedly that it just pivots you in a new direction, changes you forever. Girl, I’d give everything I have if that could happen for you.”

To stave off more tears, Micky said, “That’s sweet, Aunt Gen, but everything you have doesn’t amount to squat.”

Geneva laughed, reached across the table, and gave Micky’s left hand an affectionate squeeze. “That’s true enough, honey. But I’ve still got about half a squat more than you do.”

STRANGELY, here in the sunshine, less than a day later, Micky couldn’t stop thinking about the transforming moment of grace that Geneva had wished for her. She didn’t believe in miracles, neither the supernatural sort that involved guardian angels and the radiant hand of God revealed nor the merely statistical variety that might present her with a winning lottery ticket.

Read More Show Less

First Chapter

Chapter 1

The world is full of broken people. Splints, casts, miracle drugs, and time can't mend fractured hearts, wounded minds, torn spirits.

Currently, sunshine was Micky Bellsong's medication of choice, and southern California in late August was an apothecary with a deep supply of this prescription.

Tuesday afternoon, wearing a bikini and oiled for broiling, Micky reclined in a lounge chair in her aunt Geneva's backyard. The nylon webbing was a nausea-inducing shade of green, and it sagged, too, and the aluminum joints creaked as though the lawn furniture were far older than Micky, who was only twenty-eight, but who sometimes felt ancient.

Her aunt, from whom fate had stolen everything except a reliable sense of humor, referred to the yard as "the garden." That would be the rosebush.

The property was wider than it was deep, to allow the full length of the house trailer to face the street. Instead of a lawn with trees, a narrow covered patio shaded the front entrance. Here in back, a strip of grass extended from one side of the lot to the other, but it provided a scant twelve feet of turf between the door and the rear fence. The grass flourished because Geneva watered it regularly with a hose.

The rosebush, however, responded perversely to tender care. In spite of ample sunshine, water, and plant food, in spite of the regular aeration of its roots and periodic treatment with measured doses of insecticide, the bush remained as scraggly and as blighted as any specimen watered with venom and fed pure sulfur in the satanic gardens of Hell.

Face to the sun, eyes closed, striving to empty her mind of all thought, yet troubled by insistent memories, Micky had been cooking for half an hour when a small sweet voice asked, "Are you suicidal?"

She turned her head toward the speaker and saw a girl of nine or ten standing at the low, sagging picket fence that separated this trailer space from the one to the west. Sun glare veiled the kid's features.

"Skin cancer kills," the girl explained.

"So does vitamin D deficiency."

"Not likely."

"Your bones get soft."

"Rickets. I know. But you can get vitamin D in tuna, eggs, and dairy products. That's better than too much sun."

Closing her eyes again, turning her face to the deadly blazing heavens, Micky said, "Well, I don't intend to live forever."

"Why not?"

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but nobody does."

"I probably will," the girl declared.

"How's that work?"

"A little extraterrestrial DNA."

"Yeah, right. You're part alien."

"Not yet. I have to make contact first."

Micky opened her eyes again and squinted at the ET wannabe. "You've been watching too many reruns of The X Files, kid."

"I've only got until my next birthday, and then all bets are off." The girl moved along the swooning fence to a point where it had entirely collapsed. She clattered across the flattened section of pickets and approached Micky. "Do you believe in life after death?"

"I'm not sure I believe in life before death," Micky said.

"I knew you were suicidal."

"I'm not suicidal. I'm just a wiseass."

Even after stepping off the splintered fence staves onto the grass, the girl moved awkwardly. "We're renting next door. We just moved in. My name's Leilani."

As Leilani drew closer, Micky saw that she wore a complicated steel brace on her left leg, from the ankle to above the knee.

"Isn't that a Hawaiian name?" Micky asked.

"My mother's a little nuts about all things Hawaiian."

Leilani wore khaki shorts. Her right leg was fine, but in the cradle of steel and padding, her left leg appeared to be malformed.

"In fact," Leilani continued, "old Sinsemilla — that's my mother — is a little nuts, period."

"Sinsemilla? That's a . . ."

"Type of marijuana. Maybe she was Cindy Sue or Barbara way back in the Jurassic period, but she's called herself Sinsemilla as long as I've known her." Leilani settled into a hideous orange-and-blue chair as decrepit as Micky's bile-green lounge. "This lawn furniture sucks."

"Someone gave it to Aunt Geneva for nothing."

"She ought to've been paid to take it. Anyway, they put old Sinsemilla in an institution once and shot like fifty or a hundred thousand volts of electricity through her brain, but it didn't help."

"You shouldn't make up stuff like that about your own mother."

Leilani shrugged. "It's the truth. I couldn't make up anything as weird as what is. In fact, they blasted her brain several times. Probably, if they'd done it just once more, old Sinsemilla would've developed a taste for electricity. Now she'd be sticking her finger in a socket about ten times a day. She's an addictive personality, but she means well."

Although the sky was a furnace grate, although Micky was slick with coconut-scented lotion and sweat, she'd grown all but oblivious of the sun. "How old are you, kid?"

"Nine. But I'm precocious. What's your name?"

"Micky."

"That's a name for a boy or a mouse. So it's probably Michelle. Most women your age are named Michelle or Heather or Courtney."

"My age?"

"No offense intended."

"It's Michelina."

Leilani wrinkled her nose. "Too precious."

"Michelina Bellsong."

"No wonder you're suicidal."

"Therefore — Micky."

"I'm Klonk."

"You're what?"

"Leilani Klonk."

Micky cocked her head and frowned skeptically. "I'm not sure I should believe anything you tell me."

"Sometimes names are destiny. Look at you. Two pretty names, and you're as gorgeous as a model — except for all the sweat and your face puffy with a hangover."

"Thanks. I guess."

"Me, on the other hand — I've got one pretty name followed by a clinker like Klonk. Half of me is sort of pretty — "

"You're very pretty," Micky assured her.

This was true. Golden hair. Eyes as blue as gentian petals. The clarity of Leilani's features promised that hers was not the transient beauty of childhood, but an enduring quality.

"Half of me," Leilani conceded, "might turn heads one day, but that's balanced by the fact that I'm a mutant."

"You're not a mutant."

The girl stamped her left foot on the ground, causing the leg brace to rattle softly. She raised her left hand, which proved to be deformed: The little finger and the ring finger were fused into a single misshapen digit that was connected by a thick web of tissue to a gnarled and stubby middle finger.

Until now, Micky hadn't noticed this deformity. "Everyone's got imperfections," she said.

"This isn't like having a big schnoz. I'm either a mutant or a cripple, and I refuse to be a cripple. People pity cripples, but they're afraid of mutants."

"You want people to be afraid of you?"

"Fear implies respect," Leilani said.

"So far, you're not registering high on my terror meter."

"Give me time. You've got a great body."

Disconcerted to hear such a thing from a child, Micky covered her discomfort with self-deprecation: "Yeah, well, by nature I'm a huge pudding. I've got to work hard to stay like this."

"No you don't. You were born perfect, and you've got one of those metabolisms tuned like a space-shuttle gyroscope. You could eat half a cow and drink a keg of beer every day, and your butt would actually tighten up a notch."

Micky couldn't remember the last time that she'd been rendered speechless by anyone, but with this girl, she was nearly befuddled into silence. "How would you know?"

"I can tell," Leilani assured her. "You don't run, you don't power walk — "

"I work out."

"Oh? When was your last workout?"

"Yesterday," Micky lied.

"Yeah," said Leilani, "and I was out waltzing all night." She stamped her left foot again, rattling her leg brace. "Having a great metabolism is nothing to be ashamed about. It's not like laziness or anything."

"Thanks for your approval."

"Your boobs are real, aren't they?"

"Girl, you are an amazing piece of work."

"Thanks. They must be real. Even the best implants don't look that natural. Unless there's major improvement in implant technology, my best hope is to develop good boobs. You can be a mutant and still attract men if you've got great boobs. That's been my observation, anyway. Men can be lovely creatures, but in some ways, they're pathetically predictable."

"You're nine, huh?"

"My birthday was February twenty-eighth. That was Ash Wednesday this year. Do you believe in fasting and penitence?"

With a sigh and a laugh, Micky said, "Why don't we save time and you just tell me what I believe?"

"Probably not much of anything," Leilani said, without a pause. "Except in having fun and getting through the day."

Micky was left speechless not by the child's acute perception but by hearing the truth put so bluntly, especially as this was a truth that she had long avoided contemplating.

"Nothing wrong with having fun," said Leilani. "One of the things I believe, if you want to know, is that we're here to enjoy life." She shook her head. "Amazing. Men must be all over you."

"Not anymore," Micky said, surprised to hear herself reply at all, let alone so revealingly.

A lopsided smile tugged at the right corner of the girl's mouth, and unmistakable merriment enlivened her blue eyes. "Now don't you wish you could see me as a mutant?"

"What?"

"As long as you think of me as a handicapped waif, your pity doesn't allow you to be impolite. On the other hand, if you could see me as a weird and possibly dangerous mutant, you'd tell me none of this is my business, and you'd hustle me back to my own yard."

"You're looking more like a mutant all the time."

Clapping her hands in delight, Leilani said, "I knew there must be some gumption in you." She rose from her chair with a hitch and pointed across the backyard. "What's that thing?"

"A rosebush."

"No, really."

"Really. It's a rosebush."

"No roses."

"The potential's there."

"Hardly any leaves."

"Lots of thorns, though," Micky noted.

Squinching her face, Leilani said, "I bet it pulls up its roots late at night and creeps around the neighborhood, eating stray cats."

"Lock your doors."

"We don't have cats." Leilani blinked. "Oh." She grinned. "Good one." She hooked her right hand into an imitation of a claw, raked the air, and hissed.

"What did you mean when you said ‘all bets are off'?"

"When did I say that?" Leilani asked disingenuously.

"You said you've only got until your next birthday, and then all bets are off."

"Oh, the alien-contact thing."

Although that wasn't an answer, she turned away from Micky and crossed the lawn in a steel-stiffened gait.

Micky leaned forward from the angled back of the lounge chair. "Leilani?"

"I say a lot of stuff. Not all of it means anything." At the gap in the broken fence, the girl stopped and turned. "Say, Michelina Bellsong, did I ask whether you believe in life after death?"

"And I was a wise-ass."

"Yeah, I remember now."

"So . . . do you?" Micky asked.

"Do I what?"

"Believe in life after death?"

Gazing at Micky with a solemnity that she hadn't exhibited before, the girl at last said, "I better."

As she negotiated the fallen pickets and crossed the neglected sun-browned lawn next door, the faint click-and-squeak of her leg brace faded until it could have been mistaken for the language of industrious insects hard at work in the hot, dry air.

For a while after the girl had gone into the neighboring house trailer, Micky sat forward in the lounge chair, staring at the door through which she had disappeared.

Leilani was a pretty package of charm, intelligence, and cocky attitude that masked an aching vulnerability. But while remembered moments of their encounter now brought a smile to Micky, she was also left with a vague uneasiness. Like a quick dark fish, some disturbing half-glimpsed truth had seemed to dart beneath the surface of their conversation, though it eluded her net.

The liquid-thick heat of the late-August sun pooled around Micky. She felt as though she were floating in a hot bath.

The scent of recently mown grass saturated the still air: the intoxicating essence of summer.

In the distance rose the lulling rumble-hum of freeway traffic, a not unpleasant drone that might be mistaken for the rhythmic susurration of the sea.

She should have grown drowsy, at least lethargic, but her mind hummed more busily than the traffic, and her body grew stiff with a tension that the sun couldn't cook from her.

Although it seemed unrelated to Leilani Klonk, Micky recalled something that her aunt Geneva had said only the previous evening, over dinner. . . .

"Change isn't easy, Micky. Changing the way you live means changing how you think. Changing how you think means changing what you believe about life. That's hard, sweetie. When we make our own misery, we sometimes cling to it even when we want so bad to change, because the misery is something we know. The misery is comfortable."

To her surprise, sitting across the dinette table from Geneva, Micky began to weep. No racking sobs. Discreet, this weeping. The plate of homemade lasagna blurred in front of her, and hot tears slid down her cheeks. She kept her fork in motion throughout this silent salty storm, loath to acknowledge what was happening to her.

She hadn't cried since childhood. She'd thought that she was beyond tears, too tough for self-pity and too hardened to be moved by the plight of anyone else. With grim determination, angry with herself for this weakness, she continued eating even though her throat grew so thick with emotion that she had difficulty swallowing.

Geneva, who knew her niece's stoic nature, nevertheless didn't seem surprised by the tears. She didn't comment on them, because she surely knew that consolation wouldn't be welcome.

By the time Micky's vision cleared and her plate was clean, she was able to say, "I can do what I need to do. I can get where I want to go, no matter how hard it is."

Geneva added one thought before changing the subject: “It's also true that sometimes — not often, but once in a great while — your life can change for the better in one moment of grace, almost a sort of miracle. Something so powerful can happen, someone so special come along, some precious understanding descend on you so unexpectedly that it just pivots you in a new direction, changes you forever. Girl, I'd give everything I have if that could happen for you.”

To stave off more tears, Micky said, "That's sweet, Aunt Gen, but everything you have doesn't amount to squat."

Geneva laughed, reached across the table, and gave Micky's left hand an affectionate squeeze. "That's true enough, honey. But I've still got about half a squat more than you do."

Strangely, here in the sunshine, less than a day later, Micky couldn't stop thinking about the transforming moment of grace that Geneva had wished for her. She didn't believe in miracles, neither the supernatural sort that involved guardian angels and the radiant hand of God revealed nor the merely statistical variety that might present her with a winning lottery ticket....

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 158 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(90)

4 Star

(36)

3 Star

(16)

2 Star

(11)

1 Star

(5)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 158 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 30, 2013

    KjMckown

    This was my 2nd most beloved story by Mr. Koontz, preceeded only by Watchers. I really think he hit the nail on the head with this one. I learned something, as I like to when reading for pleasure. Bioethics is completely opposite of what i believed it to be. Horrible, horrible. Have to admit this book was a little draggy in parts, but those parts were easily thumbed through. And I loved the ending, something I dont always do with Mr. Koontz' s novels. I didnt want the story to end. This one could perhaps convince the author to reconsider sequels.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 9, 2011

    Ok, this is it.

    As much as I like, to some high degree, every Koontz I've ever read, this is my favorite. I see some say it's slow; I see that, but when it dwells, I love whst is revealed. This book is his most optimistic, among msny optimistic books he:'s written. Comparable with his "Odd" series in its joy.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted August 29, 2011

    AWESOME!

    Leilani is one of my most favorite Koontz characters ever! Great storyline and very imaginative. I love the personification of the canine in the story! Dogs really do show us how to love.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted May 28, 2012

    Must read, could not put it down...nothing got done til I finished this book.

    Once you start this book, you will not want to stop until you reach the end. Then you will still want more.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 12, 2012

    Great book

    Enjoyed

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted November 16, 2011

    Awesome

    I loved this book. A great story. I have read many of Dean Koontz books. I do enjoy Koontz books. Like many of Dean Koontz books this one, has mystery with many twists in the story. I wanted to jump in and protect the young one in the story. I cried, laughed and got angry! It is a real page turner. I have given this book to my friends and one to my son. Just didnt want the story to end. I will reread this one!!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted July 15, 2011

    I tell all my friends...

    I have lent this book to so many people that I had to buy a second copy of it for myself, and every single person who reads it loves it. I had a friend ask me a third of the way in if it was worth finishing, it did seem to take a long time to get there, but once there you feel so wonderful that you wish you took your time reading it instead of trying to rush through the "long" parts. This is not only my fav Dean Koontz book, but my fav of all the books I have ever read.

    This should be a movie!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 3, 2011

    Crazy good

    Fell in love with the characters in the book. Very well written.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted January 30, 2010

    I Also Recommend:

    Koontz at his best

    This novel absolutely just touching... it is an amazingly written story. You instantly get involved with the characters from chapter 1. You want to learn more about them and Just cant put it down. This is in my top 5 Koontz novels. It takes its a place side by side with Odd Thomas. Amazing!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted December 29, 2008

    ONE OF HIS TEN BEST IN MY BOOK, PROLLY #1

    this book is full of side stories and sends you for many twists and turns and MANY side trips in which shows how much our favorite author has time on his hands and he burns it!<BR/><BR/>I feel that saying anymore will make it dry and recomend you read it for yourself! Oh by the way the reason why the book cover got a 2 was because mine a early edition has a better cover.<BR/><BR/>THIS COVER SUCKS BUT THE PAGES WITHIN ARE GREATNESS!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 24, 2008

    A reviewer

    Although is isn't Dean's best work, i enjoyed it. Yes, the story did drag on at times, but at other times the book was exciting and intense. The story of Leilani and Micky interested me the most. The two other stories lost my interest. The ending is fascinating and I would suggest this to anybody that likes science fiction, mystery, or even horror.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 22, 2014

    Great so far

    Only 200 pages in but love it so far.there are four main characters of which only to have met each other, and they are quite a lot of fun so far,

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 19, 2012

    All around one of my Favs!

    Magnificent characters, inspiring story with just enough darkness to make you rejoice at the light! THIS IS A MUST READ!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 6, 2012

    Very Good Book...Great read

    This was a wonderful book by Knootz. The characters were colorful and interesting. The story-line hopeful and informative.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted January 27, 2011

    Love it!

    My favorite Dean Koontz novel thus far.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted December 27, 2010

    Very disappointed!

    I am an avid reader and long time fan of Dean Koontz. I have been reading his books for over 20 years. This book however, dragged on and on and on. The plot was a no brainer, so not much was left to my imagination. I thought I would never finish this book. I actually had to put it down sometimes and read other books in the interim. I generally read his books in 1-2 days, yet this book took me several months. The only reason I finished reading this book was because it was all I had to read while I waited for new books to read.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted September 17, 2010

    A little slow

    This book starts out with a bang and grabs your attention. But then things slow down for a while, and a lot of things don't make sense. However, towards the end, everything starts coming together and all ends well. It took me a while to read this book, when I usually finish a Koontz book in 1-2 days. But, if you like animals, mystery, and aliens, it'll be a good read.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 9, 2010

    My first Dean Koontz book

    I have never read anything by Dean Koontz before, but by the end of this book I am glad I picked this one up! I pretty much knew I was going to like it from the first chapter alone. Throughout the book, I really could picture every scene in my head as if it were a movie, a really good movie. Koontz brought together a really different yet similar cast of characters that really played well off of each other. The end of the book was unusual, I will give anyone that, but unlike most of the other books I have read. I would recommend this to anyone.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted December 28, 2009

    Love this one too

    Working my way through all of his books

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 17, 2009

    A MUST READ

    This book is awesome...I have read it 3 times and it is still good. Dean Koontz is a master of cross-genre writing. He makes a book that combines science-fiction, mystery, romance, and thriller into one book He creates characters that seam almost real and brings them all together in one place. This is a must read.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 158 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)