The City

( 70 )

Overview

#1 New York Times bestselling author Dean Koontz is at the peak of his acclaimed powers with this major new novel?a rich, multi-layered story that moves back and forth across decades and generations as a gifted musician relates the ?terrible and wonderful? events that began in his city in 1967, when he was ten.
 
There are millions of stories in the city?some magical, some tragic, others terror-filled or triumphant. Jonah Kirk?s story is ...
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The City

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Overview

#1 New York Times bestselling author Dean Koontz is at the peak of his acclaimed powers with this major new novel—a rich, multi-layered story that moves back and forth across decades and generations as a gifted musician relates the “terrible and wonderful” events that began in his city in 1967, when he was ten.
 
There are millions of stories in the city—some magical, some tragic, others terror-filled or triumphant. Jonah Kirk’s story is all of those things as he draws readers into his life in the city as a young boy, introducing his indomitable grandfather, also a “piano man”; his single mother, a struggling singer; and the heroes, villains, and everyday saints and sinners who make up the fabric of the metropolis in which they live—and who will change the course of Jonah’s life forever. Welcome to The City, a place of evergreen dreams where enchantment and malice entwine, where courage and honor are found in the most unexpected corners and the way forward lies buried deep inside the heart.
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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble

"The city changed my life and showed me that the world is deeply mysterious. I need to tell you about her and some terrible things and wonderful things and amazing things that happened...and how I am still haunted by them. Including one night when I died and woke and lived again." Told in the first person, the story of musical prodigy Jonah Kirk takes us into one man's struggle to retrieve an inherited gift that often seemed lost or forever threatened. Another rich, multi-layered standalone story by the author of Innocence.

Publishers Weekly
07/21/2014
Bad things happen, but good things happen, too. That seems to be the message of bestseller Koontz's maudlin account of the life of Jonah Kirk, saddled by his parents with no less than seven middle names, each the last name of a famous jazz musician. The novel, which recounts the consequences of Jonah's encounters with a woman "who claimed she was the city," offers airy optimistic passages that won't persuade anyone acquainted with the harder side of life to always look on the bright side of it: "In fact, time teaches us that the musical score of life oscillates between that of Psycho and that of The Sound of Music, with by far the greatest number of our days lived to the strains of an innocuous and modestly budgeted picture." Jonah's relationships with his gifted, loving mother and with his absent, hustler father are clichés, and the concept that a city, which after all is made "great or not" by its people, takes the form of an attractive woman is too underdeveloped to have any charm. (July)
Kirkus Reviews
2014-06-05
Koontz (Innocence, 2013, etc.) genre-bends the metaphysical into a coming-of-age story, one measuring love’s parameters.Honoring his racial and musical heritage, young Jonah bears seven middle names in homage to the African-American greats of swing music. He's the son of Sylvia Bledsoe Kirk, a singer gifted enough to have won scholarships, and Tilton Kirk, a rogue smooth enough to get Sylvia pregnant before she could get to college.There’s an off-again, on-again marriage, Tilton fantasizing about celebrity chef-dom and Sylvia working at Woolworths and singing in nightclubs. The most constant presence in Jonah’s life is grandfather Teddy Bledsoe, "a piano man," a big band veteran now working as a lounge pianist. The Beatles rock radio and records, but preteen Jonah is entranced with big band music, and he’s a gifted pianist. The narrative covers the '60s shake-ups, including opposition to the Vietnam War. Tilton’s skirt-chasing ensnares him in a bomb plot by two psychopaths posing as political agitators, putting Jonah and Sylvia in great danger. Koontz writes Sylvia and Teddy as too good to be true, and Jonah’s too-wise childhood perspective seems overly influenced by Jonah-the-adult’s narration. There are, nevertheless, affecting supporting characters, like the reclusive Mr. Yoshioka, once a Manzanar internee. The cardboard-cutout antagonists are not fully formed, but Koontz’s exploration of the Bledsoes' familial bond gives the story heart. The action is predictable and less interesting than Koontz’s discourses on swing music and his allusions to art, race and social mores. Koontz displays his usual gift for phrase-making—"moments when buildings and bridges, all of it, seemed like an illusion projected on a screen of rain." The setting is New York City, but the great metropolis plays no real part in the narrative other than its metaphysical manifestation in the form of "Miss Pearl," an amorphous character appearing at critical junctures like Cinderella’s fairy godmother. Koontz offers a passable modern fairy tale about good and evil, love and loyalty.
From the Publisher
Praise for The City
 
“Beautifully crafted and poignant . . . The City is many things: serious, lighthearted, nostalgic, courageous, scary, and mysterious. . . . [It] will have readers staying up late at night.”—New York Journal of Books
 
“[Koontz] can flat-out write. . . . The message of hope and depiction of how the choices you make can change your life ring true and will remain with you once the book has been closed.”Bookreporter

Acclaim for Dean Koontz
 
“Perhaps more than any other author, Koontz writes fiction perfectly suited to the mood of America: novels that acknowledge the reality and tenacity of evil but also the power of good . . . that entertain vastly as they uplift.”Publishers Weekly

“A rarity among bestselling writers, Koontz continues to pursue new ways of telling stories, never content with repeating himself.”—Chicago Sun-Times
 
“Tumbling, hallucinogenic prose. ‘Serious’ writers . . . might do well to examine his technique.”—The New York Times Book Review
 
“[Koontz] has always had near-Dickensian powers of description, and an ability to yank us from one page to the next that few novelists can match.”—Los Angeles Times
 
“Koontz is a superb plotter and wordsmith. He chronicles the hopes and fears of our time in broad strokes and fine detail, using popular fiction to explore the human condition.”—USA Today
 
“Characters and the search for meaning, exquisitely crafted, are the soul of [Koontz’s] work. . . . One of the master storytellers of this or any age.”—The Tampa Tribune
 
“A literary juggler.”The Times (London)

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345545930
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 7/1/2014
  • Pages: 416
  • Sales rank: 1,164
  • Product dimensions: 6.30 (w) x 9.40 (h) x 1.60 (d)

Meet the Author

Dean Koontz, the author of many #1 New York Times bestsellers, lives in Southern California with his wife, Gerda, their golden retriever, Anna, and the enduring spirit of their golden, Trixie.

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.

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    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 1

My name is Jonah Ellington Basie Hines Eldridge Wilson Hampton Armstrong Kirk. From as young as I can remember, I loved the city. Mine is a story of love reciprocated. It is the story of loss and hope, and of the strangeness that lies just beneath the surface tension of daily life, a strangeness infinite fathoms in depth.

The streets of the city weren’t paved with gold, as some immigrants were told before they traveled half the world to come there. Not all the young singers or actors, or authors, became stars soon after leaving their small towns for the bright lights, as perhaps they thought they would. Death dwelt in the metropolis, as it dwelt everywhere, and there were more murders there than in a quiet hamlet, much tragedy, and moments of terror. But the city was as well a place of wonder, of magic dark and light, magic of which in my eventful life I had much experience, including one night when I died and woke and lived again.

2

When I was eight, I would meet the woman who claimed she was the city, though she wouldn’t make that assertion for two more years. She said that more than anything, cities are people. Sure, you need to have the office buildings and the parks and the nightclubs and the museums and all the rest of it, but in the end it’s the people—­and the kind of people they are—­who make a city great or not. And if a city is great, it has a soul of its own, one spun up from the threads of the millions of souls who have lived there in the past and live there now.

The woman said this city had an especially sensitive soul and that for a long time it had wondered what life must be like for the people who lived in it. The city worried that in spite of all it had to offer its citizens, it might be failing too many of them. The city knew itself better than any person could know himself, knew all of its sights and smells and sounds and textures and secrets, but it didn’t know what it felt like to be human and live in those thousands of miles of streets. And so, the woman said, the soul of the city took human form to live among its people, and the form it took was her.

The woman who was the city changed my life and showed me that the world is a more mysterious place than you would imagine if your understanding of it was formed only or even largely by newspapers and magazines and TV—­or now the Internet. I need to tell you about her and some terrible things and wonderful things and amazing things that happened, related to her, and how I am still haunted by them.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I tend to do that. Any life isn’t just one story; it’s thousands of them. So when I try to tell one of my own, I sometimes go down an alleyway when I should take the main street, or if the story is fourteen blocks long, I sometimes start on block four and have to backtrack to make sense.

Also, I’m not tapping this out on a keyboard, and I tend to ramble when I talk, like now into this recorder. My friend Malcolm says not to call it rambling, to call it oral history. That sounds pretentious, as though I’m as certain as certain can be that I’ve achieved things that ensure I’ll go down in history. Nevertheless, maybe that’s the best term. Oral history. As long as you understand it just means I’m sitting here shooting off my mouth. When someone types it out from the tapes, then I’ll edit to spare the reader all the you-­knows and uhs and dead-­end sentences, also to make myself sound smarter than I really am. Anyway, I must talk instead of type, because I have the start of arthritis in my fingers, nothing serious yet, but since I’m a piano man and nothing else, I have to save my knuckles for music.

Malcolm says I must be a closet pessimist, the way I so often say, “Nothing serious yet.” If I feel a phantom pain in one leg or the other and Malcolm asks why I keep massaging my calf, I’ll say, “Just this weird thing, nothing serious yet.” He thinks I’m convinced it’s a deep-­vein blood clot that’ll break loose and blow out my lungs or brain later in the day, though that never crossed my mind. I just say those three words to reassure my friends, those people I worry about when they have the flu or a dizzy spell or a pain in the calf, because I’d feel relieved if they reassured me by saying, “Nothing serious yet.”

The last thing I am is a closet pessimist. I’m an optimist and always have been. Life’s given me no reason to expect the worst. As long as I’ve loved the city, which is as long as I can remember, I have been an optimist.

I was already an optimist when all this happened that I’m telling you about. Although I’ll reverse myself now and then to give you some background, this particular story really starts rolling in 1967, when I was ten, the year the woman said she was the city. By June of that year, I had moved with my mom into Grandpa’s house. My mother, whose name was Sylvia, was a singer. Grandpa’s name was Teddy Bledsoe, never just Ted, rarely Theodore. Grandpa Teddy was a piano man, my inspiration.

The house was a good place, with four rooms downstairs and four up, one and three-­quarter baths. The piano stood in the big front room, and Grandpa played it every day, even though he performed four nights a week at the hotel and did background music three afternoons at the department store, in their fanciest couture department, where a dress might cost as much as he earned in a month at both jobs and a fur coat might be priced as much as a new Chevy. He said he always took pleasure in playing, but when he played at home, it was only for pleasure.

“If you’re going to keep the music in you, Jonah, you’ve got to play a little bit every day purely for pleasure. Otherwise, you’ll lose the joy of it, and if you lose the joy, you won’t sound good to those who know piano—­or to yourself.”

Outside, behind the house, a concrete patio bordered a small yard, and in the front, a porch overlooked a smaller yard, where this enormous maple tree turned as red as fire in the autumn. And when the leaves fell, they were like enormous glowing embers on the grass. You might say it was a lower-­middle-­class neighborhood, I guess, although I never thought in such terms back then and still don’t. Grandpa Teddy didn’t believe in categorizing, in labeling, in dividing people with words, and neither do I.

The world was changing in 1967, though of course it always does. Once the neighborhood was Jewish, and then it went Polish Catholic. Mr. and Mrs. Stein, who had moved from the house but still owned it, rented to my grandparents in 1963, when I was six, and sold it to them two years later. They were the first black people to live in that neighborhood. He said there were problems at the start, of the kind you might expect, but it never got so bad they wanted to move.

Grandpa attributed their staying power to three things. First, they kept to themselves unless invited. Second, he played piano free for some events at Saint Stanislaus Hall, next to the church where many in the neighborhood attended Mass. Third, my grandma, Anita, was secretary to Monsignor McCarthy.

Grandpa was modest, but I won’t be modest on his behalf. He and Grandma didn’t have much trouble also because they had about them an air of royalty. She was tall, and he was taller, and they carried themselves with quiet pride. I used to like to watch them, how they walked, how they moved with such grace, how he helped her into her coat and opened doors for her and how she always thanked him. They dressed well, too. Even at home, Grandpa wore suit pants and a white shirt and suspenders, and when he played the piano or sat down for dinner, he always wore a tie. When I was with them, they were as warm and amusing and loving as any grandparents ever, but I was at all times aware, with each of them, that I was in a Presence.

In April 1967, my grandma fell dead at work from a cerebral embolism. She was just fifty-­two. She was so vibrant, I never imagined that she could die. I don’t think anyone else did, either. When she passed away suddenly, those who knew her were grief-­stricken but also shocked. They harbored unexpressed anxiety, as if the sun had risen in the west and set in the east, suggesting a potential apocalypse if anyone dared to make reference to that development, as if the world would go on safely turning only if everyone conspired not to remark upon its revolutionary change.

At the time, my mom and I were living in an apartment downtown, a fourth-­floor walk-­up with two street-­facing windows in the living room; in the kitchen and my little bedroom, there were views only of the sooty brick wall of the adjacent building, crowding close. She had a gig singing three nights a week in a blues club and worked the lunch counter at Woolworth’s five days, waiting for her big break. I was almost ten and not without some street smarts, but I must admit that for a time, I thought that she would be equally happy if things broke either way—­a gig singing in bigger and better joints or a job as a waitress in a high-­end steakhouse, whichever came first.

We went to stay with Grandpa for the funeral and a few days after, so he wouldn’t be alone. Until then, I’d never seen him cry. He took off work for a week, and he kept mostly to his bedroom. But I sometimes found him sitting in the window seat at the end of the second-­floor hallway, just staring out at the street, or in his armchair in the living room, an unread newspaper folded on the lamp table beside him.

When I tried to talk to him, he would lift me into his lap and say, “Let’s just be quiet now, Jonah. We’ll have years to talk over everything.”

I was small for my age and thin, and he was a big man, but I felt greatly gentled in those moments. The quiet was different from other silences, deep and sweet and peaceful even if sad. A few times, with my head resting against his broad chest, listening to his heart, I fell asleep, though I was past the age for regular naps.

He wept that week only when he played the piano in the front room. He didn’t make any sounds in his weeping; I guess he was too dignified for sobbing, but the tears started with the first notes and kept coming as long as he played, whether ten minutes or an hour.

While I’m still giving you background here, I should tell you about his musicianship. He played with good taste and distinction, and he had a tremendous left hand, the best I’ve ever heard. In the hotel where he worked, there were two dining rooms. One was French and formal and featured a harpist, and the décor either made you feel elegant or made you ill. The second was an Art Deco jewel in shades of blue and silver with lots of glossy-­black granite and black lacquer, more of a supper club, where the food was solidly American. Grandpa played the Deco room, providing background piano between seven and nine o’clock, mostly American-­standard ballads and some friskier Cole Porter numbers; between nine and midnight, three sidemen joined him, and the combo pumped it up to dance music from the 1930s and ’40s. Grandpa Teddy sure could swing the keyboard.

Those days right after his Anita died, he played music I’d never heard before, and to this day I don’t know the names of any of those numbers. They made me cry, and I went to other rooms and tried not to listen, but you couldn’t stop listening because those melodies were so mesmerizing, melancholy but irresistible.

After a week, Grandpa returned to work, and my mom and I went home to the downtown walk-­up. Two months later, in June, when my mom’s life blew up, we went to live with Grandpa Teddy full-­time.

3

Sylvia Kirk, my mother, was twenty-­nine when her life blew up, and it wasn’t the first time. Back then, I could see that she was pretty, but I didn’t realize how young she was. Only ten myself, I felt anyone over twenty must be ancient, I guess, or I just didn’t think about it at all. To have your life blow up four times before you’re thirty would take something out of anyone, and I think it drained from my mom just enough hope that she never quite built her confidence back to what it once had been.

When it happened, school had been out for weeks. Sunday was the only day that the community center didn’t have summer programs for kids, and I was staying with Mrs. Lorenzo that late afternoon and evening. Mrs. Lorenzo, once thin, was now a merry tub of a woman and a fabulous cook. She lived on the second floor and accepted a little money to look after me when there were no other options, primarily when my mom sang at Slinky’s, the blues joint, three nights a week. Sunday wasn’t one of those three, but Mom had gone to a big-­money neighborhood for a celebration dinner, where she was going to sign a contract to sing five nights a week at what she described as “a major venue,” a swanky nightclub that no one would ever have called a joint. The club owner, William Murkett, had contacts in the recording industry, too, and there was talk about putting together a three-­girl backup group to work with her on some numbers at the club and to cut a demo or two at a studio. It looked like the big break wouldn’t be a steakhouse waitress job.

We expected her to come for me after eleven o’clock, but it was only seven when she rang Mrs. Lorenzo’s bell. I could tell right off that something must be wrong, and Mrs. Lorenzo could, too. But my mom always said she didn’t wash her laundry in public, and she was dead serious about that. When I was little, I didn’t understand what she meant, because she did, too, wash her laundry in the communal laundry room in the basement, which had to be as public as you could wash it, except maybe right out in the street. That night, she said a migraine had just about knocked her flat, though I’d never heard of her having one before. She said that she hadn’t been able to stay for the dinner with her new boss. While she paid Mrs. Lorenzo, her lips were pressed tight, and there was an intensity, a power, in her eyes, so that I thought she might set anything ablaze just by staring at it too long.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 70 )
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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 70 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted June 20, 2014

    Inappropriate Reviews

    Is there any way that B&N could screen these so called reviews? It makes me want to throw up when I see them. I guess people(or whatever you are) who write these reviews think we all just love to read their drivel. Well guess what. We don't.
    ?

    22 out of 66 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted June 17, 2014

    more from this reviewer

    Brilliant Writing - A Beautiful and Complex Novel!

    A special thank you to Random House Publishing Group-Bantam Dell and NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

    Without a doubt, THE CITY is the most powerful and complex book I have ever read. I am speechless! Dean Koontz writes like no other. Brilliant, profound, and eloquently written; A literary work of art!

    THE CITY by Dean Koontz, is a rich, multi-layered gripping story that moves back and forth across decades and generations, as a gifted musician relates the horrible and beautiful events that began in his city in 1967, when he was ten.

    Told in the first person, a story of musical prodigy, Jonah Kirk –taking readers into one man's world from struggles to an extraordinary gift—a journey often seemed lost, threatened, or unattainable.

    Jonah loves the city, a story of love reciprocated, a story of loss and hope –where not all young singers or actors, or authors, became stars after leaving their small towns for the bright lights of the city. The city is a place of wonder, and magic—including the night he died and woke and lived again.

    Jonah is black, a musician and a piano prodigy. Malcom is white and his best friend, also a saxophone prodigy. They meet in 1967, when Jonah and his mom, Sylvia moved in with Jonah’s grandfather, across the street from Malcom’s family. Jonah is ten and Malcom, twelve.

    Jonah is eccentric, talented, smart, and intuitive and Malcom is a talented, comedian, and geek misfit. Together they make a dynamic duo of music, mischief, and dreams---They will learn about the city.

    They grow up friends, and at age fifty-seven and fifty-nine, Jonah tells his story into a tape recorder—his story will become THE CITY, starting back before age seven

    The main theme of the novel is the meaning of The City (People): Jonah encounters a woman who said she is the City (Miss Pearl), a soul of the city and gives Jonah a piano when he desperately needed one. She said that more than anything, cities are people. She said you need to have office buildings, parks, nightclubs, and museums and all the rest, but in the end it’s the people—and the kind of people they are—who make a city great or not. If a city is great, it has a soul of its own.

    An unforgettable, compelling, and unique story—one for every woman and man, where life’s treasures is found in unexpected places. THE CITY is much more than than a mystery or suspense thriller—one, which will remain with you, long after the book ends.

    18 out of 34 people found this review helpful.

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

    Posted July 1, 2014

    Enough

    I agree. People that think they're writing a "review" need to get a life and stop telling the whole story to feed their egos. Just tell what you like or dislike and get the hell out. Nobody cares what you think.
    Good book nonetheless!

    14 out of 39 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 2, 2014

    wonderful and riveting

    Characters you love, villians you hate, a wonderful story well told, The City is a fast enjoyable read. Like most of Koontz's work it has an overall message of hope and a reminder that life and most people are good. This is one I will re-read.

    12 out of 12 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 7, 2014

    The reviews

    I appreciate the lengthly reviews when the overview is completely lacking. I need a bit more info to make sure I'm not paying for something I've previously purchased. Those pesky re-releases cost me money!

    So please stop being so snotty with your complaints. It you don't want to know so much, don't read it... move on.

    10 out of 13 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 3, 2014

    I Also Recommend:

    I like this book. I found it more character driven than plot dri

    I like this book. I found it more character driven than plot driven. The characters are vivid and memorable. I found myself caring for them. I always enjoy the mystery of Dean Koontz books. This one relied on this less than it relied on character development, but it's still very much worth the read. 

    10 out of 11 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 3, 2014

    Beautiful and moving!

    One of the.most lovely books I have ever read. May we all.have the beauty and grace described as only Mr. Koontz can. Wonderful characters.

    9 out of 10 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted July 9, 2014

    I honestly didn't know how this review would go until the last d

    I honestly didn't know how this review would go until the last day of reading this book. We'll start with what I knew early on - the cover of this book is stunning and would immediately draw me in at a bookstore. That said, is it possible to really like the characters, but not care much for the story? I've read numerous books by Dean Koontz, although none in the recent past, and always enjoyed them, but this isn't the Dean Koontz I remember.

    The writing was top shelf and the character development beyond reproach. Since this was a rather slow-moving novel, the relationship between Jonah and Mr. Yoshioka, both touching and entertaining, was the primary reason I kept reading. Some of the conversations between Jonah and his friend, Malcolm, were also humorous, although not typically what you'd hear from 10 to 12-year-olds. Somewhere around the 75% mark, I thought the story picked up a little and was anxious to see what happened at the end. For me, supernatural elements are usually enough to keep me interested in a book and although The City had a little of that, they were few and far between and not very compelling.

    I have no doubt that some readers would enjoy The City; however, they probably wouldn't be the typical Dean Koontz fan. Despite the beautiful cover, this isn't a book I would have picked up without his name on it. A review I read suggested Dean Koontz writing under a pseudonym likely would have gotten better reviews for this book and after thinking about it, I agree.

    This review is based on a digital ARC from the publisher through NetGalley.

    4 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted July 2, 2014

    When this book came up on Netgalley, I requested it right away.

    When this book came up on Netgalley, I requested it right away.  I thought it sounded very interesting.  I really wish I could say that I loved it, but unfortunately that is not the case.  So, lets start off with what I liked about the book.




    I enjoyed the writing.  It was really well done.  I enjoyed the idea of the story.  I liked how things connected and at times it was actually a little nerve racking.  The poor little boy had to go through a lot in his young life.  I liked Jonah as a character.  I loved his talent.  When Koontz described him playing the piano, I could feel the love he had for his talent.   I absolutely loved his mother and Grandfather.  They were such great characters.




    I don't really know what to say.  The idea of the boy narrating his own life as a child is interesting enough, but for me it was way too wordy.  I felt like I was reading more about the inside of a room sometimes, than I was about an actual story.  It was just way too boring for me in between the actual dialogue and story.  I know for most people this will be what draws them in, but I just really am not into a lot of description.




    I appreciate the opportunity to review the book.  I love to see different styles of writing, and Koontz really is a great author.  This book just wasn't one for me.




    Source:  I received this book from Netgalley in return for an honest review. I was not compensated in any way for this review.  These are my own PERSONAL thoughts on the book.

    4 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted July 1, 2014

    Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for giving me an eARC of

    Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for giving me an eARC of this book in exchange for an honest review. This was an incredible honor for me as I have been a HUGE fan of Dean Koontz for “decades”!

    The City is the story of remarkable young Jonah Kirk who, in his late-fifties, decides to tell the story of several years in his youth beginning when he was 8 years old. From the first line where Jonah gives his full name of Johan Ellington Basie Hines Eldridge Wilson Hampton Armstrong Kirk, I was captivated. Who has 9 names? Amazing character Jonah does! And thus the adventure began.

    As usual, Koontz had me under his spell as a wordsmith as he magically told Jonah’s story of a MAJOR incident in young Jonah’s life. Jonah’s relationships with his mother, grandfather, best friend Malcolm, Mr. Yoshioka, Mrs. Lorenzo, and finally, Miss Pearl aka “The City”, were the backbone of this story and I fell in love with each of these characters. My favorite character (besides Jonah) was Mr. Yoshioka.

    I was also in love with the musical genius of young eccentric Jonah who is a piano prodigy. Koontz’s descriptions of the music and songs had me envisioning each and every song as I listened along in my head.

    Koontz once again weaved his spell with his incredible writing. I was breathless and eager for more. When I had to put the book down, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and couldn’t wait until I could pick it back up and continue reading. I was sorry when The City ended because I wanted more!

    I also highly recommend the short story “The Neighbor” which tells a bit of Malcolm’s story.

    All in all, I loved The City! Dean Koontz never fails to deliver amazing book after amazing book! You get another WELL DONE from me, Mr. Koontz! I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.

    4 out of 8 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 30, 2014

    more from this reviewer

    It's not where we live, it's the people we live for. ¿The city

    It's not where we live, it's the people we live for.

    ”The city changed my life and showed me that the world is deeply mysterious. I need to tell you about her and some terrible things and wonderful things and amazing things that happened . . . and how I am still haunted by them. Including one night when I died and woke and lived again.”

    An exciting and moving story of Jonah Kirk, son of an exceptional singer, grandson of a formidable “piano man;” a musical prodigy beginning to explore his own gifts. The unforgettable account of a young man coming of age within a remarkable family and a shimmering portrait of the world that shaped him. The City is a place where enchantment and malice interweave, and courage and honor are found in the most unexpected places, and to find the way forward is buried deep inside the heart.
    The City seemed slow at first but the intrigue kept me reading to see how Jonah comprehends the power of his music, art, and enduring friendship, of everyday heroes. It is supernatural, magical, and suspenseful, a very good summer read and I recommend this book.
    I received copy of eBook from Random House Publishing Group - Bantam Dell and Net Galley for my review.

    3 out of 8 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 12, 2014

    I Also Recommend:

    Brilliant Novel! Another great story by Dean Koontz.

    Brilliant Novel! Another great story by Dean Koontz.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 8, 2014

    Not his usual style

    I love all Dean Koontz works, but this was disappointing. The characters are great, but the story itself fell flat. I found myself finishing it because I kept hoping the story would redeem itself. It did not. If you are new to Koontz, pick any other book of his before this one.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted July 2, 2014

    I really wish that I could review the book, but I made the mista

    I really wish that I could review the book, but I made the mistake of pre-ordering the book from Barnes and Noble, hoping that it would arrive on the release date. I checked the UPS website and they say that the package has not even arrived at a processing center.I should have waited and just picked up the book at the local Target on release day.

    2 out of 25 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 1, 2014

    Intriguing

    I wanted to have the story continued. I liked this one!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 26, 2014

    This was a great book. Dean Koontz does a great job writing, so

    This was a great book. Dean Koontz does a great job writing, so good that you get emotionally into the book. It is a a little different than some of his other books, I think a bit more heartwarming. And I am glad that he touched on Japanese interment camps, I bet there are a lot of Americans that don't even know that happened in our country, you never hear about it. I have read a lot of his books and this one is up in my top 3 and I will probably read it again it was so good.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 13, 2014

    I always admire his depiction of charactors and storytelling exp

    I always admire his depiction of charactors and storytelling expertise. Even though this story is rich in soulful content, I can't help but say it lacked the imagination  I'm addicted to. This narrative is still well written but not what interests me.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 10, 2014

    Emergency

    Post this on the other books:help barnes and noble stay in business because it is on thin ice pass it on

    1 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 4, 2014

    Dheh

    Jwheh

    1 out of 11 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 1, 2014

    Not your average Dean Koontz tale... "The City" by De

    Not your average Dean Koontz tale...

    "The City" by Dean Koontz is a coming-of-age story about Jonah Kirk, a young piano man living in New York City with his mother and grandfather during the Race Riots and war protests of the mid-1960s.  The story begins with an elder Jonah sitting with a tape recorder telling the story that changed his life. A young 8 year old boy who met an extraordinary woman who claimed to be the city and his adventures began.
    Okay reviews are so hard to write when the book does not meet your expectations as this one is for me. I'll break it down in a couple of sections so I can talk about what I liked or didn't like. I think that's the best way.
    The characters of this story are memorable and very well written. Jonah is a young, African American living with his single mother after his father abandoned them for the second time. He feels a deep need to be the man of the house and if possible shield his mother from any bad that may come to them. Malcolm is his best friend who doesn't come into the book fully until about 60% of the way through. Malcolm is a few years older and described as eccentric, when in reality he has a bad case of OCD and maybe even a touch of Aspergers. Mr. Yoshioka is Jonah's neighbor and becomes his confidant when one bad thing after another keeps happening. Mr. Yoshioka is mysterious to me and I'll be honest that I didn't trust him as fully as Jonah does. Then there is Miss Pearl, the mysterious woman who claims to the city. The way she is describe reminds me of what one may think of as an angel or ghost, the way she appears and disappears at will. 
    The plot had promise, but fell flat for me. The plot revolves around a pivotal three years in Jonah's life after his father leaves and a mystery woman he saw in a dream moves in up stairs and threatens his life for snooping on her. One connection after another leads Jonah to believe that there is more than just coincidence in what is happening around him. The story as described in the synopsis sounds like a great mystery with some paranormal elements, and it is a mystery with paranormal elements. The synopsis is not deceiving, however it's not a fast-paced, edge of your seat type of read. In fact, I found myself actually falling asleep while reading!! That never happens! I struggled to keep interest in Jonah's story and to be completely honest at 80% I gave up. I couldn't finish it. :::hangs head in shame::: 
    Overall, I found the story lacking in the mystery element. It was predictable and I had guessed a lot of what was happening before it was revealed. And as already stated I just couldn't bring myself to push through to the end (which rarely happens). So why three stars and not one or two, especially since I didn't finish? Well, the story is very well written, even if it didn't hold my interest. The characters are well thought out and very relatable, and the 1960s era brings a lot of interesting facts and trivia to the story. If you enjoy coming-of-age mysteries then I think you will enjoy this book, just keep in mind it is not fast-paced, edge of your seat!
    ***I received a copy of this ebook from the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.***

    1 out of 9 people found this review helpful.

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