CLOUD ATLAS, BY DAVID MITCHELL

Yay for Christmas books. I’ve just begun and already I’ve found 19th century sea-faring and a smattering of cannibalism! Endearing omens! My UK paperback edition is way cooler than this one, though. That is the kind of foil embossing I want to see. Do you hear me, scifi publishers?!

Done
This, Sir, is a Novel. I don’t think I’ve read anything so surprisingly excellent since Jonathan Strange & Mr Norell. Actually, I have. What I meant to say is that I’ve read nothing so marvelously epic since then. As usual, my attempts to explain it to people have met with polite nods and changed subjects, but let me try: the book is like 6 perfect little novellas, arranged as Russian matroyshka dolls, and as you read, you bore in, and bore back out. Each doll is a different period in time, the outermost being in the early 19th century, the latest being somewhere around 2200 (I think). Four of the six are out and out genre pieces: historical maritime fiction, crime novel, dystopian scifi, and post-apocalyptic scifi, with all their various tropes rendered with loving affection. But they are just written, so, well that they are simply irresistible. I only wish I could find single genre novels that were as perfectly crafted as a single portion of this book. The pieces placed in the 1930s and the present day are also wonderful, but certainly aren’t the type of fare I normally seek out.

But yes, exceedingly well written. What’s it about? Well, there’s the the journal of an American notary returning home from the Chatham Islands aboard a morally suspect ship in the 1830s; a young quasi-rake of a composer cuckolding an aging composer while helping him write new works, who documents his dalliances and mishaps in letters to his former lover; there’s a true-story thriller about a Californian journalist in the 1970s attempting to out a corrupt and deadly energy company for squelching a safety report damning their new nuclear energy plant; the soon-to-be-filmed chronicles of a publisher in the present day whose attempts to escape the extortionist cronies of his gangster star author land him in a Draconian nursing home from which he cannot escape; there’s the not-too-distant future testimony of a Korean clone bred for service in a fast food joint but who, via the machinations of forces many and penumbral, gains full consciousness; and finally (in the sweet and creamy middle) the Huck Finnish tale of a post-apocalyptic Hawaiian “primitive” and the “civilized” researcher sent to study his society. Whew! The characters of each story find themselves reading their predecessor, and sometimes characters overlap a very, very little. Each story features a character with the same birth mark, and they all seem to experience deja vu from characters in other stories. See? Now it sounds corny. But I swear to you, it is cool. If Tarantino read books and actually had anything to say, he would write this. Uh, maybe that’s not a compliment. Hm.

I guess the book is primarily about the will to power. Slavery and subjugation, small personal cruelties, corporate greed. It’s sort of like the anti-Fountainhead, except much more fun to read. I don’t know. Dissecting fiction about giant apes comes much more naturally to me. Please read this book so, at the very least, you can explain it to me.

Some interesting critique, etc: NYTimes, The Guardian, Washington Post, The Telegraph, Washington Post (interview)