Don't you just hate it when you really look forward to a book because you have heard so many wonderful things about it, and then the book turns out to be a total turd? Alas, this is what happened to me with The Traveler.
Basically, The Traveler = The Matrix. There are chosen ones (well, really one, when you get right down to it, but there are several with similar talents) and there is a Vast Machine that gives all the people on Earth an illusion of freedom when it is really all a mock-up. Only the Travelers can see other realms, and therefore reach enlightenment. And the Harlequins have sworn to protect them through all time.
But The Brethren have wiped them all out (except two Travelers and about four Harlequins) and... oh, forget it. You know the rest.
This book is the first in... wait for it... a trilogy... that has already been sold to... wait for it... a major motion picture studio. The only thing that makes this book remotely unique is that the author may actually believe this stuff. He lives "off the grid" (no credit cards, phone numbers, etc.). Apparently, he doesn't want the Vast Machine to know of his whereabouts. Apparently, he doesn't think they will notice all the money spilling over to him from the major motion picture studio. Apparently, he hasn't been taking his meds.