Book report: Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell
My
son James recommended this novel to me, and I’m glad he did. It’s certainly one
of the strangest novels I’ve ever read. I’m going to do my best to describe it
without giving away too many of the surprises.
First
off, it is actually six different stories, with different main characters,
different times and places, and, most impressively, different styles. After
reading this book, I have no idea what David Mitchell’s writing style is, and I
mean that as a compliment.
The
book opens with a journal being kept by Adam Ewing, an American legal clerk in
the 1830s returning from an assignment in the South Pacific to his home in San
Francisco. This section reminded me of the “Master and Commander” books in
their descriptions of shipboard life. This section was the toughest sledding
for me, with descriptions of cannibalism and inter-tribe atrocities that made
me queasy.
But
definitely press on, because the next section is an absolute delight: the
misadventures of a British upper-class rascal who insinuates himself into the
household of a wealthy composer in 1930s Belgium. Told in the form of letters
to a friend, the description is as entrancing as his behavior is deplorable.
This
leads to “The First Luisa Rey Mystery”, a typical thriller from the 70s, about
an idealistic young journalist rooting out deadly corruption at a newly
christened nuclear power plant in California. This story has every cliché in
the book, and more plot twists and dei ex machinis than you can shake two
sticks at. This was my least favorite section, even after I stopped paying
attention to the actual story and started paying attention to the meta-story of
how Mitchell is manipulating both the thriller genre and the reader.
The
Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish is a roller coaster of an adventure told in
first-person by Cavendish himself, a 60sish British book publisher on the lam
from a hostile client. This section has so many clever turns of phrase in its
non-stop action that I marveled at Mitchell’s inventiveness.
The
next tale is that of Sonmi-451, a clone who works practically non-stop at a
fast food restaurant – surely the obvious next step in the corporate world’s
never-ending quest to find the cheapest labor possible – in a dystopian future
Korea. This is told in the form of an interview of Sonmi-451 by an archivist
trying to obtain her version of the events that led to her impending execution.
Her story is heart-breakingly tragic and noble, even though described in
minimalist matter-of-fact Q&A prose.
The
sixth section is the pinnacle. Zachry Bailey is a goatherd in post-apocalyptic
Hawaii, who encounters Meronym, one of the few survivors of the technologically
advanced fallen civilization. Mitchell invents an entire new dialect of English
for Zachry, one so perfectsome that I be findin’ me thinkin’ its ways-like for
one two three days after readin’ his story, yah.
After
Zachry’s story, we return to each of the previous sections again, to find out
the endings, some good, some bad, of each tale.
Each
section feels complete in itself, but they all fit together in interesting
ways. Pieces of each tale – characters, events, references, even the tales
themselves – turn up in the other tales. Mitchell weaves these threads artfully
and inventively through each story.
The
theme seems to be about people being chased and threatened by others, in
various ways, for various reasons, with various struggles, and leading to
various outcomes. It’s a fascinating exercise in story construction.
They
are supposedly making a movie of this book, which will no doubt leave lots of
people scratching their heads.
Recommended.
Be prepared to be dazzled.
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