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丕胤賱爻 丕亘乇
丕胤賱爻 丕亘乇 爻賵賲蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 丿蹖賵蹖丿 丕爻鬲賮丕賳 賲蹖趩賱 (郾酃鄱酃) 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴鈥屰� 丕賳诏賱蹖爻蹖鈥屫池� 讴賴 丿乇 爻丕賱 鄄郯郯鄞 賲賳鬲卮乇 卮丿 賵 賴賲丕賳 爻丕賱 丿乇 賮賴乇爻鬲 賳賴丕蹖蹖 賳丕賲夭丿賴丕蹖 噩丕蹖夭賴 蹖 亘賵讴乇 賯乇丕乇 诏乇賮鬲. 賲蹖趩賱 讴賴 倬蹖卮 丕夭 丕蹖賳 賴賲 丿乇 乇賲丕賳鈥屬囏й屫� 亘賴 爻乇丕睾 诏賵賳賴鈥屬囏й� 賲禺鬲賱賮 丕丿亘蹖 乇賮鬲賴 亘賵丿 丿乇 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 鬲賵丿乇鬲賵 乇賵丕蹖鬲 禺賵丿 乇丕 丕夭 賯乇賳 賳賵夭丿賴賲 卮乇賵毓 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀� 賵 鬲丕 丌蹖賳丿賴鈥屫й� 倬爻丕鈥屫⒇必з勜操呚з嗃� 倬蹖卮 賲蹖鈥屫ㄘ必�. 丕蹖賳 乇賲丕賳 噩賵丕蹖夭 讴鬲丕亘 亘乇蹖鬲丕賳蹖丕 賵 讴鬲丕亘 爻丕賱 乇蹖趩丕乇丿 丕賳丿 噩賵丿蹖 乇丕 丕夭 丌賳 禺賵丿 讴乇丿賴.
680 pages, Hardcover
First published March 1, 2004
16.1k people are currently reading
356k people want to read
About the author
David Mitchell
97听books14.9k听followersDavid Mitchell was born in Southport, Merseyside, in England, raised in Malvern, Worcestershire, and educated at the University of Kent, studying for a degree in English and American Literature followed by an M.A. in Comparative Literature. He lived for a year in Sicily, then moved to Hiroshima, Japan, where he taught English to technical students for eight years, before returning to England. After another stint in Japan, he currently lives in Ireland with his wife Keiko and their two children. In an essay for Random House, Mitchell wrote: "I knew I wanted to be a writer since I was a kid, but until I came to Japan to live in 1994 I was too easily distracted to do much about it. I would probably have become a writer wherever I lived, but would I have become the same writer if I'd spent the last 6 years in London, or Cape Town, or Moose Jaw, on an oil rig or in the circus? This is my answer to myself." Mitchell's first novel, Ghostwritten (1999), moves around the globe, from Okinawa to Mongolia to pre-Millennial New York City, as nine narrators tell stories that interlock and intersect. The novel won the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize (for best work of British literature written by an author under 35) and was shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award. His two subsequent novels, number9dream (2001) and Cloud Atlas (2004), were both shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize. In 2003, he was selected as one of 骋谤补苍迟补鈥檚 Best of Young British Novelists. In 2007, Mitchell was listed among Time Magazine's 100 Most Influential People in The World. Mitchell's American editor at Random House is novelist David Ebershoff.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 22,973 reviews
December 4, 2013
This book proves David Mitchell can be any writer he chooses. The six novellas that comprise Cloud Atlas are forgeries - and they are original. Each adopts the voice of a distinct author. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts, but all of the parts are superb. It is a sextet, like the one found within the novel, with piano, clarinet, cello, flute, oboe, and violin - every individual instrument pleasing, but when played altogether becomes something different and brilliant - the Cloud Atlas Sextet.
Each novella is broken, torn in two, or interrupted, and later continued after the sixth, which is the only one completed in one section. Then the previous five stories are concluded in descending order.
1. THE PACIFIC JOURNAL OF ADAM EWING
Written as a journal. The first story is a delightful combination of Melville, Defoe, and James Fenimore Cooper. It has the serious tone and charm of 18th and 19th century literature, but goes a bit too far, just short of mockery. It is not parody, nor disrespectful. Somehow it has a layer of - what? invisible mirth?
The acknowledgments notes Michael King鈥檚 definitive work on the Moriori, which provided Mitchell with a factual account of Chatham Islands history. This part of the story is interesting, and adds historical details essential to the plot in the way Moby Dick does with whaling information.
Moriori, 1877, survivors of the 1835 Maori invasion
2. LETTERS FROM ZEDELGHEM
Letters, one way. Robert Frobisher, writes amusing accounts of his escapades in Belgium to his lover Rufus Sixsmith while he works for a famous composer as an amanuensis. I pictured Frobisher to be like a young Hugh Laurie. There is something of Waugh, or Nancy Mitford in style and humour. He finds the Adam Ewing journal.
The acknowledgments notes "certain scenes in Robert Frobisher鈥檚 letters owe debts of inspiration to by Eric Fenby....The character Vyvyan Ayrs quotes Nietzsche more freely than he admits." And like Nietzsche, Ayrs has tertiary syphilis, "The syphilitic decays in increments, like fruit rotting in orchard verges".
"Eric William Fenby, OBE (22 April 1906 鈥� 18 February 1997) was an English composer and teacher who is best known for being Frederick Delius's amanuensis from 1928 to 1934. He helped Delius realise a number of works that would not otherwise have been forthcoming...In 1928, hearing that Delius had become virtually helpless because of blindness and paralysis due to syphilis, he offered to serve him as an amanuensis." - Wikipedia
"Delius, Delius amat, Syphilus, Deus, Genius, ooh". - Kate Bush
The amanuensis Eric William Fenby
3. HALF-LIVES, THE FIRST LUISA REY MYSTERY
It's terrible! in a good way. A classic thriller/mystery/crime novel. Cheesy style and plot: spunky girl reporter, whose father (Lester Rey, now dead) had been a cop fighting corruption. Several highly improbable escapes from certain death. All the clich茅s of this genre are here and brilliantly strung together. Rufus Sixsmith, the addressee in the previous episode, is a key character and his letters from Zedelghem are discovered after he is murdered. Does Sixsmith's prediction about the nuclear reactor come true?
4. THE GHASTLY ORDEAL OF TIMOTHY CAVENDISH
The memoir of a sixty something publishing agent, trapped in an old folks home. Cavendish is like an acid-tongued old geezer Randle McMurphy, battling another Nurse Ratched - but as written by Martin Amis. He reads the manuscript for Half-Lives, intending to publish it, as well as his own memoir, "I shall find a hungry ghostwriter to turn these notes you鈥檝e been reading into a film script of my own."
Nursey
5. AN ORISON OF SONMI~451
Written in Q & A form; sci-fi; a dystopian future, the economy dependent on slave clones. The clone Sonmi becomes the first stable, ascended fabricant, i.e., fully human. Some plot elements of Bladerunner.
Sonmi later watches the film ("disneys") The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish, "one of the greatest movies ever made by any director, from any age." Ray "451" Bradbury, Orwell, Huxley and Plato's Republic are referred to. Somni is Winston Smith - and she is Jesus.
Doona Bae as Sonmi
6. SLOOSHA鈥橲 CROSSIN鈥� AN鈥� EV鈥橰YTHIN鈥� AFTER
Futurist speculative fiction - civilization has fallen, the few remaining people live a basic existence. Sort of a Tolkienian fantasy but Mitchell's marvelous invented dialect is Burgessish. Zachry the goatherder - there and back again - is a Valleysman on Big I, Ha-Why. "Valleysmen only had one god an鈥� her name it was Sonmi".
Zachry sees a recording of Sonmi's Q & A interview, because there is a small group of advanced survivors, "Prescients," and one arrives on a great ship to live on the island, to learn the ways of these primitive people. They have a Prime Directive - but who ever follows those? They are nonbelievers,
We Prescients, she answered, after a beat, b鈥檒ief when you die you die an there ain鈥檛 no comin back.
But what 鈥檅out your soul? I asked.
Prescients don鈥檛 b鈥檒ief souls exist.
But ain鈥檛 dyin鈥� terrorsome cold if there ain鈥檛 nothin鈥� after?
Yay鈥攕he sort o鈥� laughed but not smilin鈥�, nay鈥� our truth is terror-some cold.
Jus鈥� that once I sorried for her. Souls cross the skies o鈥� time, Abbess鈥檇 say, like clouds crossin鈥� skies o鈥� the world. Sonmi鈥檚 the east鈥檔鈥檞est, Sonmi鈥檚 the map an鈥� the edges o鈥� the map an鈥� b鈥檡onder the edges.
Mauna Kea Observatories on "Big I, Ha-Why".
The stories are connected by certain reoccurring themes and events. Truth. Time. Betrayal. Drugs. Poison. Power. Captivity. Masters and Slaves. Freedom. Cruelty. Worship. The Number Twelve, Seven. Worms, Snakes, Ants, Souls. Birthmarks. Escape. Letters. Books. Music. Films. Aging. Corporate Society. Religion. And there are many literary allusions: Moby Dick; The Bible; Don Juan; Time's Arrow; To the Lighthouse; The Gulag Archipelago; An Evil Cradling; Nineteen Eighty-four; Fahrenheit 451; All Quiet on the Western Front . Nietzsche, Kipling, Conrad, Zane Grey, Homer. Harry Harrison. And more.
One Novella is slyly presented within another. I found myself clinging to the first narrative as the "real" one. When it turns up as "a curious dismembered volume" in the second, damn! I swallowed hard and justified such an appearance as quite possible. Then it is merely mentioned in a manuscript - the third novella - which is being read in the fourth. Got that? making it entirely illogical to continue my belief. And worse: Frobisher says, "Something shifty about the journal鈥檚 authenticity鈥攕eems too structured for a genuine diary, and its language doesn鈥檛 ring quite true鈥攂ut who would bother forging such a journal, and why?"
So I'm forced into using doublethink of the highest order. The fact is, you want each of these narratives to be the real one. They are that good. The structure weakens the reader's fantasy that this is "real". It becomes very awkward, like explaining a time travel paradox.
Still...never underestimate the power of doublethink. Autua, Adam Ewing, Robert Frobisher, Rufus Sixsmith, Timothy Cavendish, Sonmi, Zachry, Meronym, all remain with me...
*Sob*.
September 24, 2012
Dear David Mitchell,
I鈥檝e been trying to figure out the nicest possible way to tell you what I鈥檓 about to tell you. I sort of feel like I鈥檝e failed you as a reader, but I just couldn鈥檛 suspend my critical mind for long enough to enjoy your book (鈥渉ow I envied my uncritical鈥isters鈥� 鈥� I hate it when my own words come back to bite me in the ass, don鈥檛 you?). Don鈥檛 take it personally though. I鈥檓 the girl who didn't like The Matrix. I know, right? How could anyone dislike The Matrix? All of the neat-o keen-o special effects, the super cool concept of the world actually being run by sentient machines, the homage to Baudrillard (If you haven鈥檛 read Simulacra & Simulation, read it. It鈥檒l blow your mind.)(By the way, Baudrillard said the siblings Wachowski completely misinterpreted his work, but I digress), and the kick-ass soundtrack (okay so it wasn鈥檛 really all that kick ass). Unfortunately at the end of the day, Keanu Reeves can鈥檛 act his way out of a paper bag, and this girl just couldn鈥檛 get past that fact.
听
For the first half of the novel, I kept trying to psych myself up by reminding myself how much I disliked the first four episodes of season one of The Wire: 鈥淭his is just another contrived crime drama!鈥� 鈥淒ominic West really needs to work on his American accent." "Not enough Idris Elba.鈥� Then we meet Omar Little and BAM! It all starts to click. (Don鈥檛 you just love Omar?)(shhhh, no spoilers, I鈥檓 only on season three). I kept waiting for that BAM! moment, but it just never came. Instead I found myself more and more frustrated, finding fault with every gimmick. E.g., If language has devolved in the future, you really need to commit to your chosen alterations. If you decide flight will be 鈥榝lite鈥� then sight should be 鈥榮ite,鈥� etc. Go all the way, I say! Oh what, you think that would be too annoying? Ur rite. It would b. So y chanj da spelng at al? It just ends up being distracting. Think of another way to say "THIS IS THE FUTURE!!!" without being so obvious about it. Similarly, when you wanted the audience to know it was the 70's, you could have found a more subtle way of doing it than saying "THEY'RE AT A PARTY LISTENING TO DISCO AND DOING COCAINE!" It's the 70's man, I get it.
It seemed to me like you didn鈥檛 have enough faith in the intelligence of your audience to get the gist without spoon-feeding it to us. If the reader didn鈥檛 pick up on the 鈥渘ested dolls鈥� analogy all by themselves (or by having Chabon tell them on the back cover) you make sure Grimaldi spells it out for us: 鈥極ne model of time: an infinite matryoshka doll of painted moments, each 鈥渟hell鈥� (the present) encased inside a nest of 鈥渟hells鈥� (previous presents) I call the actual past but which we perceive as the virtual past.鈥� Etc. 鈥淩evolutionary or gimmicky?鈥� I鈥檒l take gimmicky for 1000, Alex (damned if your words don鈥檛 keep biting you in the ass, eh Davey boy?).
If you鈥檝e read the book, than you know that each chapter or story is in some way 鈥渞ead鈥� by a character in another story (journals, letters, film). A clever idea for sure. The thing about clever ideas is this, you really need to trust that your reader is as clever as you! We can pick these things up without you telling us. I mean come on the look of disgust on my face must have been a sight to see.
Let's talk about the Sloosha chapter for a moment (but just for a moment because I鈥檓 trying to repress the memory). I'm sure you were going for something really important and profound there, but it was completely lost on me because that 'style' you came up with was ridiculously irritating. I was unable to become emotionally invested in the relationship between Zachry & Meronym in the slightest. It鈥檚 the fall of humanity for chrissakes and I could not have given a shit less.
听
At least you have a sense of humor about it all, right pal? You saw the criticisms coming, and you gave them a swift kick in the ass (well, your character did, literally) right from the get-go. "The Ghost of Sir Felix Finch whines, 鈥淏ut it鈥檚 been done a hundred times before!鈥� 鈥� as if there could be anything not done a hundred thousand times between Aristophanes and Andrew Void[sic]-Webber! As if Art is the What, not the How!鈥� Oh man, you said it. Art is not the what, it鈥檚 the how; and in this instance, for me, the how is, well, not great. From the Mrs. Robinson romps to the three stooges escape hijinx, and let鈥檚 not forget the lovable
Anyway, I鈥檓 sure one little dissenter doesn鈥檛 matter much, right? Millions of people love this book, just like Dan Brown鈥檚! Hey, they even got the same actor to star in the film! AND you got Wachowski directing (isn鈥檛 it serendipitous how my Matrix side story is actually relevant now?). You鈥檙e going to rack in the Euros buddy. If it means anything, I thought Black Swan Green was ace in the face!
Hug?
April 23, 2025
UPDATE: looking back, this was the first 鈥渂ig鈥� review I ever wrote when I first joined goodreads, and from discussing this book I met a lot of my first gr-Friends that I would go on to read a lot of excellent books with. I鈥檝e always had a soft spot for this book and am thankful of it for being what introduced me to this wonderful book community, especially at a time when I had uprooted to a new place and was very lonely. This is a weird little corner of the internet and I love it, thanks to everyone who interacts and makes this such a fun place to be. I appreciate you all. And I appreciate this book. It was one of the first I encountered a bisexual character as a main character and felt very seen, so thank you David Mitchell. And on to the original review:
鈥淥ne may transcend any convention,鈥� writes Mitchell鈥檚 1930鈥檚 composer Robert Frobisher, 鈥渋f only one can first conceive of doing so.鈥� Cloud Atlas, the third novel by English novelist David Mitchell, is the author鈥檚 bare-knuckled blow to standard conventions and literature itself. Here you will encounter six stories, linked across time, that, like individual notes of a chord, each resonate together to form a greater message than just the sum of their parts. Using a style inspired by Calvino鈥檚 If on a winter鈥檚 night a traveler鈥�, which I would highly recommend, and a constantly fluctuating set of language, diction, dialect, and form to flood each individual story with nuance, Mitchell delivers a work that is vastly impressive and imaginative without being impassive as each story takes on a life of its own in a perfect blending of literary musings and exciting page-turning plot that will keep you on the edge of your seat.
While explaining this novel to a friend, I labeled it as being 鈥� literary pulp 鈥�. He protested, saying that you can only have one or the other. I agreed with him that this is typically the case, yet I insisted that Cloud Atlas was the exception to this rule. While each individual story has an exciting plot full of unexpected twists, often incorporating a Hollywood action or sci-fi style, Mitchell manages to elevate the novel into a higher realm of literature. Mitchell, who studied English at the University of Kent, receiving a master in Comparative Literature (thanks wiki!), has learned enough tricks of the trade to pull-off this sort of 鈥渓iterary pulp鈥�. Each one of these stories on their own wouldn鈥檛 amount to much beyond an exciting read with a few underlying messages, but when he stitches them all together in an elaborate tapestry of time and space, a larger more profound message comes out as the reader will notice overarching themes and a careful reading will reveal a sense of symmetry and repetition between the stories. There is also a sense of an evolution of language, showing past trends progressing into our current speech, and then passing forward where corporate name brands will become the identifier of an object (all cars are called fords, handheld computers are all called sonys, all movies are called disneys), and then even further forward as language begins to disintegrate. The themes of the novel also seem to move in a cyclical pattern, showing repeating itself.
As stated earlier, Mitchell was inspired by Calvino's in which the Reader is exposed to several different novels within the novel, each with a very distinct voice and style, only to be forever thwarted from finishing just as the action rises. Mitchell takes this idea and expands upon it, with each story ending abruptly yet still resonating in the following story, which then leads us to the next and the next until finally we reach the midpoint of the novel. I do not want to spoil too much of this novel, especially his way of each story being a part of the next, but by page 64 you will understand. There will be a paragraph that will drop your jaw and melt your mind as you realize Mitchell has something special here in his method of telescoping stories. Essentially, each major character leaves an account of a crucial storyline of their lives, which in turn is read or viewed later through history by another character during a crucial moment in their lives. An added flair is that many of the characters relate to their current events by comparing it to characters or ideas from previous stories, one character even becoming a deity figure to future generations. At the midpoint, which Mitchell describes as his 鈥渕irror鈥�, the novel will then travel back out of the wormhole (or perhaps back in?), revisiting the previous stories in reverse order. There is a good interview with Mitchell where he explains his methods.
Mitchell employs other metafictional techniques, such as having his characters each reflect on the style of the novel as would make sense for their unique world. For example, Frobisher鈥檚 masterpiece composition, aptly named Cloud Atlas, is described by Frobisher as being:
鈥漚 sextet for overlapping soloists鈥濃€�.each in its own language of key, scale, and color. In the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor: in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order. Revolutionary or gimmicky?
Mitchell himself calls the style to the table, asking the reader if it is really a revolutionary idea, or if it falls flat as a gimmick. There are many instances where Mitchell inserts a bemused reflection on his own work, wondering if he is actually pulling off the magic trick.
Each story visited is as if cracking open the cover of a different book by a different author each time the switch occurs. There is everything from a dusty sailing journal, a hilarious English comedy, a sleek sci-fi thriller and to even an oral account of tribal warfare on the other side of the apocalypse, each with an equally intriguing cast of characters (fans of Mitchell will recognize some of them as they appear in other novels, most notably which includes Luisa Rey, Cavendish and Ayr鈥檚 daughter). Mitchell does his homework and spent plenty of time researching each story to make sure the history, setting and language would all be realistic. As all but the spy-thriller story of Luisa Rey are told in first person, Mitchell has his work cut out for him to craft a unique voice for each narrator. And he pulls it off brilliantly. This attention to detail and nuance is what really sold me on Cloud Atlas. To go from Cavendish鈥檚 comical voice filled with English slang (and some hilarious instances of cockney and Scottish diction) to an oral language that shows the deterioration of speech two stories later is impressive. My personal favorite was the loquacious letters of Robert Frobisher, as Mitchell wrote this Nietzsche loving composer with the urgency and depravity of a frantic, brilliant mind that recalls characters such as Dostoevsky鈥檚 underground man or Hamsun鈥檚 narrator in Hunger. Mitchell toys with his knowledge of literature, molding each story from the recipes of classic literature. Adam Ewing is clearly a product of Melville, Cavendish鈥檚 plight echoes Kesey鈥檚 One Flew Over The Cuckoo鈥檚 Nest, and Sonmi-451 will bring to mind Brave New World or Do Android鈥檚 Dream of Electric Sheep? Zachary鈥檚 islander tale uses a form of sight language drawing on the oral tradition of storytelling which reflects the traditional African American stories such as the Uncle Julius tales or Equiano鈥檚 slave narratives where much emphasis is placed on the passing on of stories about ancestors. There are even small events that trigger a memory of classic works; Frobisher is passenger in a car that runs down a pheasant which is described in a way that would remind one of a certain accident involving a yellow car at the tail end of a Fitzgerald novel. He even takes a jab at Ayn Rand in the Luisa Rey story.
Mitchell seems to intentionally build this novel from other novels, and highlights this to the reader most openly through Timothy Cavendish and Robert Frobisher. 鈥淵ou鈥檒l find that all composure draw inspiration from their environments鈥� Ayrs tells R.F. in one of the many passages where Mitchell talks both about his storyline, but also about the novel itself. This honing of metafictional abilities is one of his greatest strengths and the second half of the novel is full of passages that speak on many different levels. Mitchell takes no shame in 鈥渄rawing inspiration鈥� from his literary predecessors, much as each subsequent character draws on the inspiration of the past characters. He uses this as opportunities to shamelessly quote, allude, and incorporate the ideas of other writers. Nietzsche鈥檚 concept of the Will to Power and Hegel鈥檚 theories on history make up some of the strongest themes within the novel, and he gives credit where credit is due. While allusions are used for thematic reasons, some are more deeply hidden, sometimes in plain sights as Nabokov titles are used frequently, and occasionally he simply alludes to authors of each stories present time (Luisa Rey's boss was mugged after having lunch with Norman Mailer) to make them feel more rooted to the literary culture of the time much as he does with the language and descriptions. He even pokes fun at the reader a bit, acknowledging that the casual reader will not be able to pick up on these allusions, speaking through Cavendish:
鈥滻 could say things to her like 鈥楾he most singular difference between happiness and joy is that happiness is a solid and joy is a liquid鈥� and, safe in her ignorance of J.D. Salinger, I felt witty, charming, and yes, even youthful鈥�.
He may be using 鈥榶outhful鈥� as a way of saying that he must come across as fresh and exciting and inventive, which is ironic since he openly admits to borrowing the whole novels concept from Calvino. Mitchell appreciates and rewards the well-read reader with many of these subtle ironic jokes which are sprinkled all through-out the novel. He leaves so many little gems for a reader to find if they only take the time to read in between the lines and pay close attention. One might notice how several different characters 鈥渇umigate鈥� a foul smelling room with a cigarette, or how diamonds seem to play an important role, or which characters seem repeated throughout history beyond the main character. Bill Smoke (pure evil) and Joe Napier (an ally) seem to pop up in some form in every story. I have noticed at least four other souls that seem to migrate through time in this novel.
Like a healthy, well-balanced sense of self, Mitchell seems to be aware of his weaknesses as a writer and actually uses them to his advantage, making his weaknesses some of his biggest strengths. It is clear, as the point has by now been driven into the ground, that Mitchell has aims to be taken seriously as a writer of literature, but his plots are such rapid-fire excitement with twists and turns and high climactic conclusions that he felt it necessary to be as literary as possible in all other aspects. He compensates for any other shortcomings in a similar fashion. One of the ways the characters are linked together across time (read it yourself if you want to know!) made me groan the first time I read it. Mitchell accepts that it is a corny technique and has a character flat out dismiss it as 鈥漟ar too hippie-druggy-new age鈥� and as something that should be taken out entirely. I got a kick out of this and instantly forgave Mitchell for not being subtle enough with this technique of linking characters. There are several other moments when characters question the validity of other characters, often due to the same reasons a reader would criticize Mitchell. This ability to poke fun at himself and openly address his own shortcomings gave me a far greater respect for him. He accepts that his ideas are not entirely original and counters anyone who might complain it has all been done before. Cavendish speaks for Mitchell with
鈥漚s if there could be anything not done a hundred thousand times between Aristophanes and Andrew Void-Webber. As if Art is the What, not the How! 鈥�
He wants to direct your attention to his form and writing, not just his plot and originality. He repeatedly bashes critics and the masses, essentially stating that if you don鈥檛 get this novel, then you鈥檙e not smart enough to deserve to read his work. It made me laugh.
With all his cleverness and metafictional genius, Mitchell does have a few flaws that should be addressed. The main one being subtlety. He does apologize for it and poke fun at himself, but some of the major themes in this novel did not need to be called out directly. They were easily detectable in between the lines, yet Mitchell has each main character spell them out in dialogue. He seems to want to reward the clever reader, yet at times pauses and hits you over the head as if he doesn鈥檛 think you can understand. It worked since he had each character do it, applying the message of The Will to Power and the strong killing the weak to each characters situation to create a sense of symmetry, but it was ultimately superfluous, but this being my only real criticism, Mitchell isn't doing too bad. The issue of subtlety is where Calvino gets an upper hand on Mitchell, as his novel was a bit more controlled in its message and layering of meanings. Cloud Atlas is a bit more accessible than If on a winter's... but the latter is a slightly superior work in my opinion. Both novels should enter your "to read list" however.
All in all, this novel is a brilliant puzzle filled with exciting characters, entertaining dialogue, and throws enough loops to keep you guessing. You will find it very difficult to put this novel down. Mitchell achieves his goal of transcending conventions and addressing the broad scope of humanity and is at times bitter, funny, frightening, paranoid, and downright tragic. Cloud Atlas is a must read, and although much of it may come across as 鈥渂een there, read that鈥�, he still keeps it fresh and unique. Plus this novel really rewards a careful reading and a bit of researching, as many of the jokes will be lost on those who don鈥檛 have a good grounding in the classics. Make sure to have a pen handy, as there are plenty of mesmerizing quotes to return to and ponder, especially in the second half of the novel. David Mitchell is most definitely an author to be read and admired.鈥滱nticipating the end of the world is humanity鈥檚 oldest pastime鈥� writes Frobisher, and this novel envisions a plausible, horrific future that doesn鈥檛 seem all that much different than the past. Mitchell gives us this novel as a warning, and I do hope we take it to heart. I wish this novel had credits like at the end of the film just so Reckoner by Radiohead could blast my eardrums as final lines sunk in. It would be perfect.
5/5
鈥淥ne may transcend any convention,鈥� writes Mitchell鈥檚 1930鈥檚 composer Robert Frobisher, 鈥渋f only one can first conceive of doing so.鈥� Cloud Atlas, the third novel by English novelist David Mitchell, is the author鈥檚 bare-knuckled blow to standard conventions and literature itself. Here you will encounter six stories, linked across time, that, like individual notes of a chord, each resonate together to form a greater message than just the sum of their parts. Using a style inspired by Calvino鈥檚 If on a winter鈥檚 night a traveler鈥�, which I would highly recommend, and a constantly fluctuating set of language, diction, dialect, and form to flood each individual story with nuance, Mitchell delivers a work that is vastly impressive and imaginative without being impassive as each story takes on a life of its own in a perfect blending of literary musings and exciting page-turning plot that will keep you on the edge of your seat.
While explaining this novel to a friend, I labeled it as being 鈥� literary pulp 鈥�. He protested, saying that you can only have one or the other. I agreed with him that this is typically the case, yet I insisted that Cloud Atlas was the exception to this rule. While each individual story has an exciting plot full of unexpected twists, often incorporating a Hollywood action or sci-fi style, Mitchell manages to elevate the novel into a higher realm of literature. Mitchell, who studied English at the University of Kent, receiving a master in Comparative Literature (thanks wiki!), has learned enough tricks of the trade to pull-off this sort of 鈥渓iterary pulp鈥�. Each one of these stories on their own wouldn鈥檛 amount to much beyond an exciting read with a few underlying messages, but when he stitches them all together in an elaborate tapestry of time and space, a larger more profound message comes out as the reader will notice overarching themes and a careful reading will reveal a sense of symmetry and repetition between the stories. There is also a sense of an evolution of language, showing past trends progressing into our current speech, and then passing forward where corporate name brands will become the identifier of an object (all cars are called fords, handheld computers are all called sonys, all movies are called disneys), and then even further forward as language begins to disintegrate. The themes of the novel also seem to move in a cyclical pattern, showing repeating itself.
As stated earlier, Mitchell was inspired by Calvino's in which the Reader is exposed to several different novels within the novel, each with a very distinct voice and style, only to be forever thwarted from finishing just as the action rises. Mitchell takes this idea and expands upon it, with each story ending abruptly yet still resonating in the following story, which then leads us to the next and the next until finally we reach the midpoint of the novel. I do not want to spoil too much of this novel, especially his way of each story being a part of the next, but by page 64 you will understand. There will be a paragraph that will drop your jaw and melt your mind as you realize Mitchell has something special here in his method of telescoping stories. Essentially, each major character leaves an account of a crucial storyline of their lives, which in turn is read or viewed later through history by another character during a crucial moment in their lives. An added flair is that many of the characters relate to their current events by comparing it to characters or ideas from previous stories, one character even becoming a deity figure to future generations. At the midpoint, which Mitchell describes as his 鈥渕irror鈥�, the novel will then travel back out of the wormhole (or perhaps back in?), revisiting the previous stories in reverse order. There is a good interview with Mitchell where he explains his methods.
Mitchell employs other metafictional techniques, such as having his characters each reflect on the style of the novel as would make sense for their unique world. For example, Frobisher鈥檚 masterpiece composition, aptly named Cloud Atlas, is described by Frobisher as being:
鈥漚 sextet for overlapping soloists鈥濃€�.each in its own language of key, scale, and color. In the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor: in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order. Revolutionary or gimmicky?
Mitchell himself calls the style to the table, asking the reader if it is really a revolutionary idea, or if it falls flat as a gimmick. There are many instances where Mitchell inserts a bemused reflection on his own work, wondering if he is actually pulling off the magic trick.
Each story visited is as if cracking open the cover of a different book by a different author each time the switch occurs. There is everything from a dusty sailing journal, a hilarious English comedy, a sleek sci-fi thriller and to even an oral account of tribal warfare on the other side of the apocalypse, each with an equally intriguing cast of characters (fans of Mitchell will recognize some of them as they appear in other novels, most notably which includes Luisa Rey, Cavendish and Ayr鈥檚 daughter). Mitchell does his homework and spent plenty of time researching each story to make sure the history, setting and language would all be realistic. As all but the spy-thriller story of Luisa Rey are told in first person, Mitchell has his work cut out for him to craft a unique voice for each narrator. And he pulls it off brilliantly. This attention to detail and nuance is what really sold me on Cloud Atlas. To go from Cavendish鈥檚 comical voice filled with English slang (and some hilarious instances of cockney and Scottish diction) to an oral language that shows the deterioration of speech two stories later is impressive. My personal favorite was the loquacious letters of Robert Frobisher, as Mitchell wrote this Nietzsche loving composer with the urgency and depravity of a frantic, brilliant mind that recalls characters such as Dostoevsky鈥檚 underground man or Hamsun鈥檚 narrator in Hunger. Mitchell toys with his knowledge of literature, molding each story from the recipes of classic literature. Adam Ewing is clearly a product of Melville, Cavendish鈥檚 plight echoes Kesey鈥檚 One Flew Over The Cuckoo鈥檚 Nest, and Sonmi-451 will bring to mind Brave New World or Do Android鈥檚 Dream of Electric Sheep? Zachary鈥檚 islander tale uses a form of sight language drawing on the oral tradition of storytelling which reflects the traditional African American stories such as the Uncle Julius tales or Equiano鈥檚 slave narratives where much emphasis is placed on the passing on of stories about ancestors. There are even small events that trigger a memory of classic works; Frobisher is passenger in a car that runs down a pheasant which is described in a way that would remind one of a certain accident involving a yellow car at the tail end of a Fitzgerald novel. He even takes a jab at Ayn Rand in the Luisa Rey story.
Mitchell seems to intentionally build this novel from other novels, and highlights this to the reader most openly through Timothy Cavendish and Robert Frobisher. 鈥淵ou鈥檒l find that all composure draw inspiration from their environments鈥� Ayrs tells R.F. in one of the many passages where Mitchell talks both about his storyline, but also about the novel itself. This honing of metafictional abilities is one of his greatest strengths and the second half of the novel is full of passages that speak on many different levels. Mitchell takes no shame in 鈥渄rawing inspiration鈥� from his literary predecessors, much as each subsequent character draws on the inspiration of the past characters. He uses this as opportunities to shamelessly quote, allude, and incorporate the ideas of other writers. Nietzsche鈥檚 concept of the Will to Power and Hegel鈥檚 theories on history make up some of the strongest themes within the novel, and he gives credit where credit is due. While allusions are used for thematic reasons, some are more deeply hidden, sometimes in plain sights as Nabokov titles are used frequently, and occasionally he simply alludes to authors of each stories present time (Luisa Rey's boss was mugged after having lunch with Norman Mailer) to make them feel more rooted to the literary culture of the time much as he does with the language and descriptions. He even pokes fun at the reader a bit, acknowledging that the casual reader will not be able to pick up on these allusions, speaking through Cavendish:
鈥滻 could say things to her like 鈥楾he most singular difference between happiness and joy is that happiness is a solid and joy is a liquid鈥� and, safe in her ignorance of J.D. Salinger, I felt witty, charming, and yes, even youthful鈥�.
He may be using 鈥榶outhful鈥� as a way of saying that he must come across as fresh and exciting and inventive, which is ironic since he openly admits to borrowing the whole novels concept from Calvino. Mitchell appreciates and rewards the well-read reader with many of these subtle ironic jokes which are sprinkled all through-out the novel. He leaves so many little gems for a reader to find if they only take the time to read in between the lines and pay close attention. One might notice how several different characters 鈥渇umigate鈥� a foul smelling room with a cigarette, or how diamonds seem to play an important role, or which characters seem repeated throughout history beyond the main character. Bill Smoke (pure evil) and Joe Napier (an ally) seem to pop up in some form in every story. I have noticed at least four other souls that seem to migrate through time in this novel.
Like a healthy, well-balanced sense of self, Mitchell seems to be aware of his weaknesses as a writer and actually uses them to his advantage, making his weaknesses some of his biggest strengths. It is clear, as the point has by now been driven into the ground, that Mitchell has aims to be taken seriously as a writer of literature, but his plots are such rapid-fire excitement with twists and turns and high climactic conclusions that he felt it necessary to be as literary as possible in all other aspects. He compensates for any other shortcomings in a similar fashion. One of the ways the characters are linked together across time (read it yourself if you want to know!) made me groan the first time I read it. Mitchell accepts that it is a corny technique and has a character flat out dismiss it as 鈥漟ar too hippie-druggy-new age鈥� and as something that should be taken out entirely. I got a kick out of this and instantly forgave Mitchell for not being subtle enough with this technique of linking characters. There are several other moments when characters question the validity of other characters, often due to the same reasons a reader would criticize Mitchell. This ability to poke fun at himself and openly address his own shortcomings gave me a far greater respect for him. He accepts that his ideas are not entirely original and counters anyone who might complain it has all been done before. Cavendish speaks for Mitchell with
鈥漚s if there could be anything not done a hundred thousand times between Aristophanes and Andrew Void-Webber. As if Art is the What, not the How! 鈥�
He wants to direct your attention to his form and writing, not just his plot and originality. He repeatedly bashes critics and the masses, essentially stating that if you don鈥檛 get this novel, then you鈥檙e not smart enough to deserve to read his work. It made me laugh.
With all his cleverness and metafictional genius, Mitchell does have a few flaws that should be addressed. The main one being subtlety. He does apologize for it and poke fun at himself, but some of the major themes in this novel did not need to be called out directly. They were easily detectable in between the lines, yet Mitchell has each main character spell them out in dialogue. He seems to want to reward the clever reader, yet at times pauses and hits you over the head as if he doesn鈥檛 think you can understand. It worked since he had each character do it, applying the message of The Will to Power and the strong killing the weak to each characters situation to create a sense of symmetry, but it was ultimately superfluous, but this being my only real criticism, Mitchell isn't doing too bad. The issue of subtlety is where Calvino gets an upper hand on Mitchell, as his novel was a bit more controlled in its message and layering of meanings. Cloud Atlas is a bit more accessible than If on a winter's... but the latter is a slightly superior work in my opinion. Both novels should enter your "to read list" however.
All in all, this novel is a brilliant puzzle filled with exciting characters, entertaining dialogue, and throws enough loops to keep you guessing. You will find it very difficult to put this novel down. Mitchell achieves his goal of transcending conventions and addressing the broad scope of humanity and is at times bitter, funny, frightening, paranoid, and downright tragic. Cloud Atlas is a must read, and although much of it may come across as 鈥渂een there, read that鈥�, he still keeps it fresh and unique. Plus this novel really rewards a careful reading and a bit of researching, as many of the jokes will be lost on those who don鈥檛 have a good grounding in the classics. Make sure to have a pen handy, as there are plenty of mesmerizing quotes to return to and ponder, especially in the second half of the novel. David Mitchell is most definitely an author to be read and admired.鈥滱nticipating the end of the world is humanity鈥檚 oldest pastime鈥� writes Frobisher, and this novel envisions a plausible, horrific future that doesn鈥檛 seem all that much different than the past. Mitchell gives us this novel as a warning, and I do hope we take it to heart. I wish this novel had credits like at the end of the film just so Reckoner by Radiohead could blast my eardrums as final lines sunk in. It would be perfect.
5/5
August 20, 2024
鈥淚 never said it would be easy. I only said it would be worth it.鈥�
鈥� Mae West
That is one of my favorite quotes, and it accurately describes David Mitchell鈥檚 Cloud Atlas.
Utilizing a unique format, Cloud Atlas reads like a collection of short stories 鈥� the narrative thread is almost imperceptible, how these stories are connected.
The brilliance of this novel didn鈥檛 reveal itself until the last half of the book, and the beginning has more vocab words than the SAT test.
As a result of the structure, the characters were unevenly spaced, and when they reappeared, we should have been given a little tickler to get us to remember where we left off.
My battered copy of Atlas Shrugged had some v. interesting censorship. 鈥淒rink your own p--- if you get a thirst.鈥� What utter nonsense! In the audiobook, this censorship was unceremoniously dropped. Thank G--!
Cloud Atlas is a sophisticated, ambitious novel with sublime characters, nailing the three elements of a perfect morally grey character: intelligence, great quotes, and humor. Allow me to leave you with a few of these quotes.
鈥淭apped on the pane and asked in French if she鈥檇 save my life by falling in love with me. Shook her head but got an amused smile.鈥�
鈥淎sked if I could borrow a policeman鈥檚 bicycle for an indefinite period. Told me that was most irregular. Assured him that I was most irregular.鈥�
2025 Reading Schedule
Jan A Town Like Alice
Feb Birdsong
Mar Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Berniere
Apr War and Peace
May The Woman in White
Jun Atonement
Jul The Shadow of the Wind
Aug Jude the Obscure
Sep Ulysses
Oct Vanity Fair
Nov A Fine Balance
Dec Germinal
Connect With Me!
鈥� Mae West
That is one of my favorite quotes, and it accurately describes David Mitchell鈥檚 Cloud Atlas.
Utilizing a unique format, Cloud Atlas reads like a collection of short stories 鈥� the narrative thread is almost imperceptible, how these stories are connected.
The brilliance of this novel didn鈥檛 reveal itself until the last half of the book, and the beginning has more vocab words than the SAT test.
As a result of the structure, the characters were unevenly spaced, and when they reappeared, we should have been given a little tickler to get us to remember where we left off.
My battered copy of Atlas Shrugged had some v. interesting censorship. 鈥淒rink your own p--- if you get a thirst.鈥� What utter nonsense! In the audiobook, this censorship was unceremoniously dropped. Thank G--!
Cloud Atlas is a sophisticated, ambitious novel with sublime characters, nailing the three elements of a perfect morally grey character: intelligence, great quotes, and humor. Allow me to leave you with a few of these quotes.
鈥淭apped on the pane and asked in French if she鈥檇 save my life by falling in love with me. Shook her head but got an amused smile.鈥�
鈥淎sked if I could borrow a policeman鈥檚 bicycle for an indefinite period. Told me that was most irregular. Assured him that I was most irregular.鈥�
2025 Reading Schedule
Jan A Town Like Alice
Feb Birdsong
Mar Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Berniere
Apr War and Peace
May The Woman in White
Jun Atonement
Jul The Shadow of the Wind
Aug Jude the Obscure
Sep Ulysses
Oct Vanity Fair
Nov A Fine Balance
Dec Germinal
Connect With Me!
February 26, 2025
Tomorrow I will never see, though I have no wings I fly free. Of what I dream no one can know, I am but a container for a rainbow.
Stories are clouds鈥� The same story told by a different raconteur changes form and it may also change a meaning.
As every watermelon contains seeds out of which new watermelons can be grown so every story contains seeds of other stories鈥� And the present contains seeds of the future鈥�
Yet what is the world if not the multitude of stories?
Stories are clouds鈥� The same story told by a different raconteur changes form and it may also change a meaning.
I watched clouds awobbly from the floor o鈥� that kayak. Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an鈥� tho鈥� a cloud鈥檚 shape nor hue nor size don鈥檛 stay the same, it鈥檚 still a cloud an鈥� so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud鈥檚 blowed from or who the soul鈥檒l be 鈥檓orrow? Only Sonmi the east an鈥� the west an鈥� the compass an鈥� the atlas, yay, only the atlas o鈥� clouds.
As every watermelon contains seeds out of which new watermelons can be grown so every story contains seeds of other stories鈥� And the present contains seeds of the future鈥�
Yet what is the world if not the multitude of stories?
August 15, 2012
On re-reading in 2012...
I admit, the for the upcoming movie adaptation of this book sent me plunging back into its hexapalindromic universe to re-solidify my own mental renditions of Frobisher's bicycle, Sonmi's soap packs, and Lousia's imaginary California, among other things. I emerge even more impressed with Mitchell's mimetic acrobatics, the book's deft allusive integument ("Is not ascent their sole salvation?" p. 512), the acrimonious satire ("if consumers are satisfied with their lives at any meaningful level [...] plutocracy is finished" p. 348), and, ultimately, the nakedly deliberate messages about humanity's will to power and our capacity for empathy re-re-re-re-re-reiterated in the second half. I kept wishing Lousia or Cavendish or someone one would say "Be excellent to each other. Party on, dudes!" but not wishing in a snarky cynical judgy kind of way! Because I actually think Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure is pretty... excellent (and come to think of it, is also a story set in multiple time periods with strong musical undertones and a message of peace, love, and happiness...). This book grants me one of the greatest pleasures a book can: it restores profundity to a hackneyed truth. If you're not into Mitchell's prose, characters, or fancy-schmancy structure, though, you might just end up with the hackneyed bit.
Old review from 2006
This, Sir, is a Novel. I don't think I've read anything so surprisingly excellent since . 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 older colleague 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.
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.
I admit, the for the upcoming movie adaptation of this book sent me plunging back into its hexapalindromic universe to re-solidify my own mental renditions of Frobisher's bicycle, Sonmi's soap packs, and Lousia's imaginary California, among other things. I emerge even more impressed with Mitchell's mimetic acrobatics, the book's deft allusive integument ("Is not ascent their sole salvation?" p. 512), the acrimonious satire ("if consumers are satisfied with their lives at any meaningful level [...] plutocracy is finished" p. 348), and, ultimately, the nakedly deliberate messages about humanity's will to power and our capacity for empathy re-re-re-re-re-reiterated in the second half. I kept wishing Lousia or Cavendish or someone one would say "Be excellent to each other. Party on, dudes!" but not wishing in a snarky cynical judgy kind of way! Because I actually think Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure is pretty... excellent (and come to think of it, is also a story set in multiple time periods with strong musical undertones and a message of peace, love, and happiness...). This book grants me one of the greatest pleasures a book can: it restores profundity to a hackneyed truth. If you're not into Mitchell's prose, characters, or fancy-schmancy structure, though, you might just end up with the hackneyed bit.
Old review from 2006
This, Sir, is a Novel. I don't think I've read anything so surprisingly excellent since . 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 older colleague 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.
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.
July 25, 2014
All autumn, with the release date of movie adaptation of Cloud Atlas fast approaching, interest in the novel among my 欧宝娱乐 friends has been high. I have not seen many subdued reactions. Fans of Mitchell discuss his ability adeptly to assume so many different voices and styles, the intricacy of the novel鈥檚 structure, and the relevance of its themes for today. Detractors have dismissed Cloud Atlas as gimmicky, a work by a much-hyped writer who is showing off his style but neglecting to anchor it in themes of substance. And some readers simply found his shifts in voice tedious.
I recently re-read Cloud Atlass, bearing in mind both reactions to the novel. I also remembered my first time reading it. I was mesmerized by Mitchell鈥檚 ability to pay homage to six very different genres and voices in the six novellas that make up Cloud Atlas. I delighted in tracing connections and interconnections among the different sections of the novel. I was entranced by Mitchell鈥檚 high wire act.
Mitchell structures Cloud Atlas as follows: six novellas are organized in chronological order. The first five break off abruptly in the middle of their respective stories. The sixth novella, 鈥淪loosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥�,鈥� appears in its entirety in the center of the novel. After its conclusion, Mitchell moves in reverse chronological order through the remaining five novellas, bringing each to a conclusion, but also providing numerous points of connection and resonance among all six novellas.
The novellas are as follows:
The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing: tracing the travels of Adam Ewing, a notary, who is sailing to Australia and New Zealand in the 1850s, and who comes face to face with human greed on individual and communal levels;
Letters from Zedelghem: the composer Robert Frobisher writing to his friend, Rufus Sixsmith, about his experiences in post-World War I Belgium as he seeks fame and fortune while negotiating a precarious relationship with a famous composer at the end of his career;
Halflives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery: Luisa Rey, a young investigative reporter, seeks to carry out her father鈥檚 legacy while combating the corporate greed and corruption of Seaboard Power Inc. in Reagan-era California;
The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish: a vanity publisher gains and loses a fortune, and loses his freedom, in England;
An Orison of Sonmi-451: Sonmi-451, a genetically modified being or fabricant, shares her memories of her quest for knowledge and her fight against government-sanctioned murder in the name of corporate greed;
Sloosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥� An鈥� Ev鈥檙ythin鈥� After: Zachry, a Pacific Islander who is a member of the Valleymen, tells about his experiences with Meronym, a Prescient, as they seek past knowledge and combat the savagery of the Kona and devastation by plague in the future.
With my second reading of the novel, I delved deeper than focusing on its structure. I focused on themes. Did Mitchell have the content to support his style and technique, or was Cloud Atlas all style and no substance? After a careful re-reading, I concluded that Mitchell鈥檚 approach to writing Cloud Atlas is successful, not simply as an exercise in writing style, but because the style and structure support his exploration of central themes, of critical importance to 21st-century readers.
Knowledge in Cloud Atlas: History, Language, Belief, Memory, and Forgetting
In a 2004 interview in the Washington Post, David Mitchell provided some insight into his main interests in writing Cloud Atlas. After reading a reference to the Moriori in Jared Diamond鈥檚 Guns, Germs and Steel, Mitchell became fascinated with the tribe, who lived in the Chatham Islands of New Zealand. He researched them and visited the Chatham Islands as well. The Moriori appear in Cloud Atlas, as Ewing meets them and attempts to come to terms with the many forces that overpower them: Western missionaries in search of souls, whalers in search of profit, and Maori exercising their power over the Moriori through force. However, as Mitchell describes, the Moriori鈥檚 influence appears throughout the novel, as a main influence for a central theme: 鈥淜nowledge can be forgotten as easily as, perhaps more easily than, it can be accrued. As a people, the Moriori 鈥榝orgot鈥� the existence of any other land and people but their own.鈥� This led to Mitchell鈥檚 first theme in Cloud Atlas: how does knowledge transform over time, from generation to generation? How are we shaped, not only by what we remember from the past, but also by what we forget or rework? Why is it so important for us to be able to tell stories about the past, and to know the conclusion of those stories? Mitchell鈥檚 interest was fueled in part by his being a father, and wondering what the future would hold for his child, but also by his interest in history.
Moriori people, 1877
Spirit Grove- Hapupu, Chatham Islands
As a novelist, Mitchell explores these questions while also paying homage to different genres of writing, and in some cases specific books that were particularly inspiring to him. (See the Washington Post interview linked above for a list of these influences.) However, these voices are not simply an opportunity for him to demonstrate his ability to shapeshift as a writer. A quotation from this interview gave me insights into the significance of the different voices that he adopts in Cloud Atlas: 鈥淚 learned that language is to the human experience what spectography is to light: Every word holds a tiny infinity of nuances, a genealogy, a social set of possible users, and that although a writer must sometimes pretend to use language lightly, he should never actually do so -- the stuff is near sacred.鈥� He is not simply showing off his chops as a writer when he adopts six different voices in Cloud Atlas--instead, he is creating new worlds, painting pictures of cultures with words. In doing so, he considers the knowledge these cultures retained and the knowledge they lost from the past. If you read closely and carefully, you can see how language is shifting over time, particularly in the novel鈥檚 central section, 鈥淪loosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥�.鈥� Some readers found this section to be painful to read, but I loved the challenge of diving into Zachry鈥檚 language, identifying unfamiliar words, and considering what social factors led to their creation. I felt like an ethnographer, listening carefully to stories told by an informant from a very different world, and finding clues to recreate that world. That quest to understand, and the impact of discovering points I had in common with Zachry, speak to a larger theme -- continuity in some aspects of human culture over time, and the necessity of preserving and understanding the past as much as possible, even as it recedes from us in time.
The title of the novel, Cloud Atlas, itself ties back to Mitchell鈥檚 conception of history. We think of an atlas as a book that guides us through unfamiliar terrain and captures the contours of mountains and valleys, the depths of seas and lakes. An atlas of clouds suggests something much more ephemeral -- clouds are constantly moving, shifting, transforming, and eventually dissipating into the ether. Mitchell鈥檚 conception of history is built on a sense of constant movement and change. Even as we try to capture the past in works of history, literature, and art, we change and transform its meaning to fit our present.
In the Luisa Rey story, the engineer Isaac Sachs outlines this view of history as he takes notes during a plane ride:.
鈥� 鈥�. The actual past is brittle, ever-dimming + ever more problematic to access + reconstruct: in contrast, the virtual past is malleable, ever-brightening + ever more difficult to circumvent/expose as fraudulent.
鈥� The present presses the virtual past into its own service, to lend credence to its mythologies + legitimacy to the imposition of will. Power seeks + is the right to 鈥渓andscape鈥� the virtual past. (He who pays the historian calls the tune.)
鈥� Symmetry demands an actual + virtual future, too. We imagine how next week, next year, or 2225 will shape up鈥攁 virtual future, constructed by wishes, prophecies + daydreams. This virtual future may influence the actual future, as in a self fulfilling prophecy, but the actual future will eclipse our virtual one as surely as tomorrow eclipses today. Like Utopia, the actual future + the actual past exist only in the hazy distance, where they are no good to anyone.
鈥� Q: Is there a meaningful distinction between one simulacrum of smoke, mirrors + shadows鈥攖he actual pas 鈥攆rom another such simulacrum鈥攖he actual future?
鈥� One model of time: an infinite matryoshka doll of painted moments, each 鈥渟hell鈥� (the present) encased inside a nest of 鈥渟hells鈥� (previous presents) I call the actual past but which we perceive as the virtual past. The doll of 鈥渘ow鈥� likewise encases a nest of presents yet to be, which I call the actual future but which we perceive as the virtual future.
Throughout Cloud Atlas, Mitchell develops this depiction of the interplay of the actual and virtual past and the actual and virtual future in shaping the present. In doing so, he leaves the door open for societies to shape their actual futures through this process of creation and reinterpretation. However, one important limitation on their ability to do so for the better is the ubiquitous influence of power dynamics across human societies, past, present, and future.
The Will to Power in Cloud Atlas
This interest in history leads another of Mitchell鈥檚 themes in Cloud Atlas: the centrality of acquisitiveness, of the drive to acquire and possess, to the human experience throughout time. He takes a broad approach to exploring this force, as explained in his Washington Post interview: 鈥淧erhaps all human interaction is about wanting and getting. (This needn't be as bleak as it sounds -- a consequence of getting can be giving, which presumably is what love is about.) Once I had these two ideas for novellas, I looked for other variations on the theme of predatory behavior -- in the political, economic and personal arenas.鈥�
Mitchell is not alone in focusing on wanting, getting, and giving as main factors forming human relationships, and shaping history. Anthropologists such as Marcel Mauss in The Gift have explored the role of gift exchange in fostering relationships, and in determining power dynamics, in human societies. Historians have looked at these elements from a broader perspective, particularly in studies of colonialism in the early modern and modern world. Investigative reporters uncover instances of the abuse of power, as measured by wealth and influence. Wherever we turn, our past and present are shaped by power relations and the desire to possess -- wealth, political influence, land, beautiful objects, and people. What does this mean for our future?
In Cloud Atlas, Mitchell explores power in many manifestations. 鈥淭he Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing鈥� provides a deep exploration of the intersections of colonial interests and local power struggles and how they affected the lives of the Moriori, whose commitment to peaceful interactions with their neighbors were no protection against the combined forces of missionaries, whalers, and the Maori: 鈥淲hat moral to draw? Peace, though beloved of our Lord, is a cardinal virtue only if your neighbors share your conscience.鈥�
Portrait of New Zealand man
Reception of Captain Cook in Hapaee
Robert Frobisher confronts power on two scales: on an individual level, he experiences the combined forces of sexual power and greed in his interactions with Vyvyan Ayrs and his wife Jocasta. As Ayrs tells him in a final confrontation: 鈥淎ny society鈥檚 upper crust is riddled with immorality-- how else d鈥檡ou think they keep their power?鈥� He also explores power in a world-scale through attempts to come to terms with World War One:
鈥淲hat sparks wars? The will to power, the backbone of human nature. The threat of violence, the fear of violence, or actual violence is the instrument of this dreadful will. You can see the will to power in bedrooms, kitchens, factories, unions, and the borders of states. Listen to this and remember it. The nation-state is merely human nature inflated to monstrous proportions. QED, nations are entities whose laws are written by violence. Thus it ever was, so ever shall it be..... Our will to power, our science, and those very faculties that elevated us from apes, to savages, to modern man, are the same faculties that鈥檒l snuff out Homo sapiens before this century is out!鈥�
Sonmi-451 provides another perspective on the evolution of conflict and wars, showing that the basic dynamics are not different in her future:
Rights are susceptible to subversion, as even granite is susceptible to erosion. My fifth Declaration posits how, in a cycle as old as tribalism, ignorance of the Other engenders fear; fear engenders hatred; hatred engenders violence; violence engenders further violence until the only 鈥渞ights,鈥� the only law, are whatever is willed by the most powerful. In corpocracy, this means the Juche. What is willed by the Juche is the tidy xtermination of a fabricant underclass.
Meronym provides a cautionary perspective on the future that may await us in our zeal to acquire power in all its forms:
The Prescient answered, Old Uns tripped their own Fall.
Oh, her words was a rope o鈥� smoke. But Old Uns鈥檇 got the Smart!
I mem鈥檙y she answered, Yay, Old Uns鈥� Smart mastered sicks, miles, seeds an made miracles ord鈥檔ary, but it din鈥檛 master one thing, nay, a hunger in the hearts o humans, yay, a hunger for more.
More what? I asked. Old Uns鈥檇 got ev鈥檙ythin.
Oh, more gear, more food, faster speeds, longer lifes, easier lifes, more power, yay. Now the Hole World is big, but it weren鈥檛 big nuff for that hunger what made Old Uns rip out the skies an boil up the seas an poison soil with crazed atoms an donkey 鈥檅out with rotted seeds so new plagues was borned an babbits was freakbirthed. Fin鈥檒y, bit鈥檒y, then quicksharp, states busted into bar鈥檅ric tribes an the Civ鈥檒ize Days ended, 鈥檆ept for a few folds鈥檔鈥檖ockets here鈥檔鈥檛here, where its last embers glimmer.
Image from Riddley Walker, inspiration for Sloosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥�
Is there any form of power than can combat corporate and governmental power and greed? Luisa Rey presents another form of power: that of public outrage, driven by the media, which can provide a counterweight to greed that acts against the public interest. However, what happens when the media is co-opted by the same corporate powers which it should be scrutinizing?:
Van Zandt鈥檚 bookshelf-lined office is as neat as Grelsch鈥檚 is chaotic. Luisa鈥檚 host is finishing up. 鈥淭he conflict between corporations and activists is that of narcolepsy versus remembrance. The corporations have money, power, and influence. Our sole weapon is public outrage. Outrage blocked the Yuccan Dam, ousted Nixon, and in part, terminated the monstrosities in Vietnam. But outrage is unwieldy to manufacture and handle. First, you need scrutiny; second, widespread awareness; only when this reaches a critical mass does public outrage explode into being. Any stage may be sabotaged. The world鈥檚 Alberto Grimaldis can fight scrutiny by burying truth in committees, dullness, and misinformation, or by intimidating the scrutinizers. They can extinguish awareness by dumbing down education, owning TV stations, paying 鈥榞uest fees鈥� to leader writers, or just buying the media up. The media鈥攁nd not just The Washington Post鈥攊s where democracies conduct their civil wars.鈥�
The Individual and the Forces of History: Is There Hope For Our Future?
After considering the kaleidoscope of human power and greed in Cloud Atlas, are we left with any hope for the future, or is Mitchell leaving us with a pessimistic prognosis? Cloud Atlas provides a staggering exploration of different manifestations of power and greed over centuries of human history: colonialism, missionary activity, 19th-century whaling, the modern quest for fame and fortune, and corporate greed, to name a few.
In spite of these dark depictions of the negative influence of the human quest for power, Mitchell does provide some hope that individuals can and do make a difference. Luisa Rey and her allies uncover the publicize the deception and danger of Seaboard Power Inc.. Zachry and Meronym band together and manage to survive plague and attacks from the Kona. Sonmi-451 sacrifices herself for the good of the fabricants, and lives on in the religious practices of the Old Uns and the studies of the Prescients. Fittingly, Mitchell gives Adam Ewing the last word, as he reflects on his experiences after his rescue from poisoning and drowning:
If we believe that humanity may transcend tooth & claw, if we believe divers races & creeds can share this world as peaceably as the orphans share their candlenut tree, if we believe leaders must be just, violence muzzled, power accountable & the riches of the Earth & its Oceans shared equitably, such a world will come to pass. I am not deceived. It is the hardest of worlds to make real. Torturous advances won over generations can be lost by a single stroke of a myopic president鈥檚 pen or a vainglorious general鈥檚 sword.
A life spent shaping a world I want Jackson to inherit, not one I fear Jackson shall inherit, this strikes me as a life worth the living. Upon my return to San Francisco, I shall pledge myself to the Abolitionist cause, because I owe my life to a self-freed slave & because I must begin somewhere.
[W]hat is any ocean but a multitude of drops?
Just as Mitchell channels his concerns about his son's future through Ewing's words, so does he provide us with a clear sense of how critical our individual choices are in shaping our own children's future. Individuals are not swept aside by the forces of history--one by one, we make up these forces. The actual future of our species and our planet is in our hands. Will we act for a just world, or sit back and contribute to the demise of our planet through inaction, or greed, or cowardice? These pivotal questions, and this critical choice, give Cloud Atlas its power.
I recently re-read Cloud Atlass, bearing in mind both reactions to the novel. I also remembered my first time reading it. I was mesmerized by Mitchell鈥檚 ability to pay homage to six very different genres and voices in the six novellas that make up Cloud Atlas. I delighted in tracing connections and interconnections among the different sections of the novel. I was entranced by Mitchell鈥檚 high wire act.
Mitchell structures Cloud Atlas as follows: six novellas are organized in chronological order. The first five break off abruptly in the middle of their respective stories. The sixth novella, 鈥淪loosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥�,鈥� appears in its entirety in the center of the novel. After its conclusion, Mitchell moves in reverse chronological order through the remaining five novellas, bringing each to a conclusion, but also providing numerous points of connection and resonance among all six novellas.
The novellas are as follows:
The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing: tracing the travels of Adam Ewing, a notary, who is sailing to Australia and New Zealand in the 1850s, and who comes face to face with human greed on individual and communal levels;
Letters from Zedelghem: the composer Robert Frobisher writing to his friend, Rufus Sixsmith, about his experiences in post-World War I Belgium as he seeks fame and fortune while negotiating a precarious relationship with a famous composer at the end of his career;
Halflives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery: Luisa Rey, a young investigative reporter, seeks to carry out her father鈥檚 legacy while combating the corporate greed and corruption of Seaboard Power Inc. in Reagan-era California;
The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish: a vanity publisher gains and loses a fortune, and loses his freedom, in England;
An Orison of Sonmi-451: Sonmi-451, a genetically modified being or fabricant, shares her memories of her quest for knowledge and her fight against government-sanctioned murder in the name of corporate greed;
Sloosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥� An鈥� Ev鈥檙ythin鈥� After: Zachry, a Pacific Islander who is a member of the Valleymen, tells about his experiences with Meronym, a Prescient, as they seek past knowledge and combat the savagery of the Kona and devastation by plague in the future.
With my second reading of the novel, I delved deeper than focusing on its structure. I focused on themes. Did Mitchell have the content to support his style and technique, or was Cloud Atlas all style and no substance? After a careful re-reading, I concluded that Mitchell鈥檚 approach to writing Cloud Atlas is successful, not simply as an exercise in writing style, but because the style and structure support his exploration of central themes, of critical importance to 21st-century readers.
Knowledge in Cloud Atlas: History, Language, Belief, Memory, and Forgetting
In a 2004 interview in the Washington Post, David Mitchell provided some insight into his main interests in writing Cloud Atlas. After reading a reference to the Moriori in Jared Diamond鈥檚 Guns, Germs and Steel, Mitchell became fascinated with the tribe, who lived in the Chatham Islands of New Zealand. He researched them and visited the Chatham Islands as well. The Moriori appear in Cloud Atlas, as Ewing meets them and attempts to come to terms with the many forces that overpower them: Western missionaries in search of souls, whalers in search of profit, and Maori exercising their power over the Moriori through force. However, as Mitchell describes, the Moriori鈥檚 influence appears throughout the novel, as a main influence for a central theme: 鈥淜nowledge can be forgotten as easily as, perhaps more easily than, it can be accrued. As a people, the Moriori 鈥榝orgot鈥� the existence of any other land and people but their own.鈥� This led to Mitchell鈥檚 first theme in Cloud Atlas: how does knowledge transform over time, from generation to generation? How are we shaped, not only by what we remember from the past, but also by what we forget or rework? Why is it so important for us to be able to tell stories about the past, and to know the conclusion of those stories? Mitchell鈥檚 interest was fueled in part by his being a father, and wondering what the future would hold for his child, but also by his interest in history.
Moriori people, 1877
Spirit Grove- Hapupu, Chatham Islands
As a novelist, Mitchell explores these questions while also paying homage to different genres of writing, and in some cases specific books that were particularly inspiring to him. (See the Washington Post interview linked above for a list of these influences.) However, these voices are not simply an opportunity for him to demonstrate his ability to shapeshift as a writer. A quotation from this interview gave me insights into the significance of the different voices that he adopts in Cloud Atlas: 鈥淚 learned that language is to the human experience what spectography is to light: Every word holds a tiny infinity of nuances, a genealogy, a social set of possible users, and that although a writer must sometimes pretend to use language lightly, he should never actually do so -- the stuff is near sacred.鈥� He is not simply showing off his chops as a writer when he adopts six different voices in Cloud Atlas--instead, he is creating new worlds, painting pictures of cultures with words. In doing so, he considers the knowledge these cultures retained and the knowledge they lost from the past. If you read closely and carefully, you can see how language is shifting over time, particularly in the novel鈥檚 central section, 鈥淪loosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥�.鈥� Some readers found this section to be painful to read, but I loved the challenge of diving into Zachry鈥檚 language, identifying unfamiliar words, and considering what social factors led to their creation. I felt like an ethnographer, listening carefully to stories told by an informant from a very different world, and finding clues to recreate that world. That quest to understand, and the impact of discovering points I had in common with Zachry, speak to a larger theme -- continuity in some aspects of human culture over time, and the necessity of preserving and understanding the past as much as possible, even as it recedes from us in time.
The title of the novel, Cloud Atlas, itself ties back to Mitchell鈥檚 conception of history. We think of an atlas as a book that guides us through unfamiliar terrain and captures the contours of mountains and valleys, the depths of seas and lakes. An atlas of clouds suggests something much more ephemeral -- clouds are constantly moving, shifting, transforming, and eventually dissipating into the ether. Mitchell鈥檚 conception of history is built on a sense of constant movement and change. Even as we try to capture the past in works of history, literature, and art, we change and transform its meaning to fit our present.
In the Luisa Rey story, the engineer Isaac Sachs outlines this view of history as he takes notes during a plane ride:.
鈥� 鈥�. The actual past is brittle, ever-dimming + ever more problematic to access + reconstruct: in contrast, the virtual past is malleable, ever-brightening + ever more difficult to circumvent/expose as fraudulent.
鈥� The present presses the virtual past into its own service, to lend credence to its mythologies + legitimacy to the imposition of will. Power seeks + is the right to 鈥渓andscape鈥� the virtual past. (He who pays the historian calls the tune.)
鈥� Symmetry demands an actual + virtual future, too. We imagine how next week, next year, or 2225 will shape up鈥攁 virtual future, constructed by wishes, prophecies + daydreams. This virtual future may influence the actual future, as in a self fulfilling prophecy, but the actual future will eclipse our virtual one as surely as tomorrow eclipses today. Like Utopia, the actual future + the actual past exist only in the hazy distance, where they are no good to anyone.
鈥� Q: Is there a meaningful distinction between one simulacrum of smoke, mirrors + shadows鈥攖he actual pas 鈥攆rom another such simulacrum鈥攖he actual future?
鈥� One model of time: an infinite matryoshka doll of painted moments, each 鈥渟hell鈥� (the present) encased inside a nest of 鈥渟hells鈥� (previous presents) I call the actual past but which we perceive as the virtual past. The doll of 鈥渘ow鈥� likewise encases a nest of presents yet to be, which I call the actual future but which we perceive as the virtual future.
Throughout Cloud Atlas, Mitchell develops this depiction of the interplay of the actual and virtual past and the actual and virtual future in shaping the present. In doing so, he leaves the door open for societies to shape their actual futures through this process of creation and reinterpretation. However, one important limitation on their ability to do so for the better is the ubiquitous influence of power dynamics across human societies, past, present, and future.
The Will to Power in Cloud Atlas
This interest in history leads another of Mitchell鈥檚 themes in Cloud Atlas: the centrality of acquisitiveness, of the drive to acquire and possess, to the human experience throughout time. He takes a broad approach to exploring this force, as explained in his Washington Post interview: 鈥淧erhaps all human interaction is about wanting and getting. (This needn't be as bleak as it sounds -- a consequence of getting can be giving, which presumably is what love is about.) Once I had these two ideas for novellas, I looked for other variations on the theme of predatory behavior -- in the political, economic and personal arenas.鈥�
Mitchell is not alone in focusing on wanting, getting, and giving as main factors forming human relationships, and shaping history. Anthropologists such as Marcel Mauss in The Gift have explored the role of gift exchange in fostering relationships, and in determining power dynamics, in human societies. Historians have looked at these elements from a broader perspective, particularly in studies of colonialism in the early modern and modern world. Investigative reporters uncover instances of the abuse of power, as measured by wealth and influence. Wherever we turn, our past and present are shaped by power relations and the desire to possess -- wealth, political influence, land, beautiful objects, and people. What does this mean for our future?
In Cloud Atlas, Mitchell explores power in many manifestations. 鈥淭he Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing鈥� provides a deep exploration of the intersections of colonial interests and local power struggles and how they affected the lives of the Moriori, whose commitment to peaceful interactions with their neighbors were no protection against the combined forces of missionaries, whalers, and the Maori: 鈥淲hat moral to draw? Peace, though beloved of our Lord, is a cardinal virtue only if your neighbors share your conscience.鈥�
Portrait of New Zealand man
Reception of Captain Cook in Hapaee
Robert Frobisher confronts power on two scales: on an individual level, he experiences the combined forces of sexual power and greed in his interactions with Vyvyan Ayrs and his wife Jocasta. As Ayrs tells him in a final confrontation: 鈥淎ny society鈥檚 upper crust is riddled with immorality-- how else d鈥檡ou think they keep their power?鈥� He also explores power in a world-scale through attempts to come to terms with World War One:
鈥淲hat sparks wars? The will to power, the backbone of human nature. The threat of violence, the fear of violence, or actual violence is the instrument of this dreadful will. You can see the will to power in bedrooms, kitchens, factories, unions, and the borders of states. Listen to this and remember it. The nation-state is merely human nature inflated to monstrous proportions. QED, nations are entities whose laws are written by violence. Thus it ever was, so ever shall it be..... Our will to power, our science, and those very faculties that elevated us from apes, to savages, to modern man, are the same faculties that鈥檒l snuff out Homo sapiens before this century is out!鈥�
Sonmi-451 provides another perspective on the evolution of conflict and wars, showing that the basic dynamics are not different in her future:
Rights are susceptible to subversion, as even granite is susceptible to erosion. My fifth Declaration posits how, in a cycle as old as tribalism, ignorance of the Other engenders fear; fear engenders hatred; hatred engenders violence; violence engenders further violence until the only 鈥渞ights,鈥� the only law, are whatever is willed by the most powerful. In corpocracy, this means the Juche. What is willed by the Juche is the tidy xtermination of a fabricant underclass.
Meronym provides a cautionary perspective on the future that may await us in our zeal to acquire power in all its forms:
The Prescient answered, Old Uns tripped their own Fall.
Oh, her words was a rope o鈥� smoke. But Old Uns鈥檇 got the Smart!
I mem鈥檙y she answered, Yay, Old Uns鈥� Smart mastered sicks, miles, seeds an made miracles ord鈥檔ary, but it din鈥檛 master one thing, nay, a hunger in the hearts o humans, yay, a hunger for more.
More what? I asked. Old Uns鈥檇 got ev鈥檙ythin.
Oh, more gear, more food, faster speeds, longer lifes, easier lifes, more power, yay. Now the Hole World is big, but it weren鈥檛 big nuff for that hunger what made Old Uns rip out the skies an boil up the seas an poison soil with crazed atoms an donkey 鈥檅out with rotted seeds so new plagues was borned an babbits was freakbirthed. Fin鈥檒y, bit鈥檒y, then quicksharp, states busted into bar鈥檅ric tribes an the Civ鈥檒ize Days ended, 鈥檆ept for a few folds鈥檔鈥檖ockets here鈥檔鈥檛here, where its last embers glimmer.
Image from Riddley Walker, inspiration for Sloosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥�
Is there any form of power than can combat corporate and governmental power and greed? Luisa Rey presents another form of power: that of public outrage, driven by the media, which can provide a counterweight to greed that acts against the public interest. However, what happens when the media is co-opted by the same corporate powers which it should be scrutinizing?:
Van Zandt鈥檚 bookshelf-lined office is as neat as Grelsch鈥檚 is chaotic. Luisa鈥檚 host is finishing up. 鈥淭he conflict between corporations and activists is that of narcolepsy versus remembrance. The corporations have money, power, and influence. Our sole weapon is public outrage. Outrage blocked the Yuccan Dam, ousted Nixon, and in part, terminated the monstrosities in Vietnam. But outrage is unwieldy to manufacture and handle. First, you need scrutiny; second, widespread awareness; only when this reaches a critical mass does public outrage explode into being. Any stage may be sabotaged. The world鈥檚 Alberto Grimaldis can fight scrutiny by burying truth in committees, dullness, and misinformation, or by intimidating the scrutinizers. They can extinguish awareness by dumbing down education, owning TV stations, paying 鈥榞uest fees鈥� to leader writers, or just buying the media up. The media鈥攁nd not just The Washington Post鈥攊s where democracies conduct their civil wars.鈥�
The Individual and the Forces of History: Is There Hope For Our Future?
After considering the kaleidoscope of human power and greed in Cloud Atlas, are we left with any hope for the future, or is Mitchell leaving us with a pessimistic prognosis? Cloud Atlas provides a staggering exploration of different manifestations of power and greed over centuries of human history: colonialism, missionary activity, 19th-century whaling, the modern quest for fame and fortune, and corporate greed, to name a few.
In spite of these dark depictions of the negative influence of the human quest for power, Mitchell does provide some hope that individuals can and do make a difference. Luisa Rey and her allies uncover the publicize the deception and danger of Seaboard Power Inc.. Zachry and Meronym band together and manage to survive plague and attacks from the Kona. Sonmi-451 sacrifices herself for the good of the fabricants, and lives on in the religious practices of the Old Uns and the studies of the Prescients. Fittingly, Mitchell gives Adam Ewing the last word, as he reflects on his experiences after his rescue from poisoning and drowning:
If we believe that humanity may transcend tooth & claw, if we believe divers races & creeds can share this world as peaceably as the orphans share their candlenut tree, if we believe leaders must be just, violence muzzled, power accountable & the riches of the Earth & its Oceans shared equitably, such a world will come to pass. I am not deceived. It is the hardest of worlds to make real. Torturous advances won over generations can be lost by a single stroke of a myopic president鈥檚 pen or a vainglorious general鈥檚 sword.
A life spent shaping a world I want Jackson to inherit, not one I fear Jackson shall inherit, this strikes me as a life worth the living. Upon my return to San Francisco, I shall pledge myself to the Abolitionist cause, because I owe my life to a self-freed slave & because I must begin somewhere.
[W]hat is any ocean but a multitude of drops?
Just as Mitchell channels his concerns about his son's future through Ewing's words, so does he provide us with a clear sense of how critical our individual choices are in shaping our own children's future. Individuals are not swept aside by the forces of history--one by one, we make up these forces. The actual future of our species and our planet is in our hands. Will we act for a just world, or sit back and contribute to the demise of our planet through inaction, or greed, or cowardice? These pivotal questions, and this critical choice, give Cloud Atlas its power.
June 23, 2018
**okay - i have actually written a "review" for this book, all you early bird voters! feel free to take back your picture-votes if you hate my words (and by "feel free," i mean "don't you dare!!")**
why have i never read this book before??
observe:
do you see how it is wedged into a teetering, lode-bearing stack of books??
removing it was a tricky business, indeed, but i succeeded, and i am finally reading it. so thank you for badgering me about it, internet, because so far, i am really enjoying it!!!
****REVIEW
the other day, when i was still a whopping 60 pages from finishing this book, greg shoved me out from in front of my work-computer to revisit he muttered aloud "why does anyone even read my reviews. karen, don't ever let me compare a book to a mobius strip again."
and he is both correct and incorrect. because it is a good review, but the book ain't nothing like a mobius strip.
finnegan's wake is a true mobius. infinite jest is a motheaten mobius, with key scenes lost along the way. this is more of a parabola, or the first hill in a rolly coaster. if the rolly-coaster ride-as descriptor weren't so trite, i would explore that here: how at first, you didn't quite know what you were getting into, as you made your ascent, but then, once you got to the top and could see what was coming, you just couldn't read through it quickly enough, and there was excitement and screams and probably some of the weaker readers vomited into their laps. but it is indeed trite, so i won't make the comparison at all.
i can understand the accusations of gimmickry. although as we are learning here on goodreads, gimmicks pay off, no? even the ones with no substance. and if this was just structure without substance, i would completely agree with mitchell's detractors. if it were just a series of short stories, butterflied and stacked on top of each other to form a book, it would be less appealing than it is in reality.
because they do bounce off of each other, the stories. they sneak into each others' worlds both thematically, and more overtly, like foraging little mice on mouse-missions. sometimes they are each others' stories. calvino, borges, arabian nights, david lynch - i can trot out all the expected names if you aren't tired of reading them.but this is something all its own. and i am sure that a second reading would do me a world of good at identifying even more of these echoes. this is a book that pretty much demands a second pass, which i will gladly give.
mitchell addresses the accusations of gimmickry before they are even made, in the novel itself:
spent the fortnight gone in the music room, reworking my year's fragments into a "sextet for overlapping soloists": piano, clarinet, 'cello, flute, oboe, and violin, each in its own language of key, scale, and color. in the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor: in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order. revolutionary or gimmicky? shan't know until it's finished, and by then it'll be too late.
and i love that - his anticipation of his own critics. yummy.
so - yeah - absolutely read this book if you have been dragging your feet over it. but beware - some of the stories are going to be much more captivating than others. i would read an entire book about frobisher, for example.
people are obscenities. would rather be music than be a mass of tubes squeezing semisolids around itself for a few decades before becoming so dribblesome it'll no longer function.
agreed.
i will definitely read this book again.
why have i never read this book before??
observe:
do you see how it is wedged into a teetering, lode-bearing stack of books??
removing it was a tricky business, indeed, but i succeeded, and i am finally reading it. so thank you for badgering me about it, internet, because so far, i am really enjoying it!!!
****REVIEW
the other day, when i was still a whopping 60 pages from finishing this book, greg shoved me out from in front of my work-computer to revisit he muttered aloud "why does anyone even read my reviews. karen, don't ever let me compare a book to a mobius strip again."
and he is both correct and incorrect. because it is a good review, but the book ain't nothing like a mobius strip.
finnegan's wake is a true mobius. infinite jest is a motheaten mobius, with key scenes lost along the way. this is more of a parabola, or the first hill in a rolly coaster. if the rolly-coaster ride-as descriptor weren't so trite, i would explore that here: how at first, you didn't quite know what you were getting into, as you made your ascent, but then, once you got to the top and could see what was coming, you just couldn't read through it quickly enough, and there was excitement and screams and probably some of the weaker readers vomited into their laps. but it is indeed trite, so i won't make the comparison at all.
i can understand the accusations of gimmickry. although as we are learning here on goodreads, gimmicks pay off, no? even the ones with no substance. and if this was just structure without substance, i would completely agree with mitchell's detractors. if it were just a series of short stories, butterflied and stacked on top of each other to form a book, it would be less appealing than it is in reality.
because they do bounce off of each other, the stories. they sneak into each others' worlds both thematically, and more overtly, like foraging little mice on mouse-missions. sometimes they are each others' stories. calvino, borges, arabian nights, david lynch - i can trot out all the expected names if you aren't tired of reading them.but this is something all its own. and i am sure that a second reading would do me a world of good at identifying even more of these echoes. this is a book that pretty much demands a second pass, which i will gladly give.
mitchell addresses the accusations of gimmickry before they are even made, in the novel itself:
spent the fortnight gone in the music room, reworking my year's fragments into a "sextet for overlapping soloists": piano, clarinet, 'cello, flute, oboe, and violin, each in its own language of key, scale, and color. in the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor: in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order. revolutionary or gimmicky? shan't know until it's finished, and by then it'll be too late.
and i love that - his anticipation of his own critics. yummy.
so - yeah - absolutely read this book if you have been dragging your feet over it. but beware - some of the stories are going to be much more captivating than others. i would read an entire book about frobisher, for example.
people are obscenities. would rather be music than be a mass of tubes squeezing semisolids around itself for a few decades before becoming so dribblesome it'll no longer function.
agreed.
i will definitely read this book again.
April 25, 2023
I was a third into this book and I could not care less about it. It didn't seem we were meant to be.
Then suddenly my heart was aching for the characters and their stories, and it did catch me by surprise.
And now it's been a week since I finished it, and I still find myself thinking about it. 'Okay, you win, book!' I have to admit grudgingly. You've wormed your way into my heart and I'd better make my peace with it.
Why did I resist liking it so much? Why did this book and I have such a rocky start to our relationship? Sheesh, let me think about it as I lie here on the imaginary psychiatrist's couch in Freudian times.
You see, its 'revolutionary structure' and all - it is basically six stories, five of which are arranged like concentric rings around one central uninterrupted story, slowly moving from A to Z as the stories go along (from Adam to Zachry), - leads even the author to question, "Revolutionary or gimmicky?"
And I say - gimmicky, my friend. Jarring, unnecessary, trying too hard and yet being needlessly distracting.
(Hey, you can also compare this book to the rings a raindrop makes in still waters. See, I can be allegorically poetic when need arises).
Would I have been easier for me to love it had it come simply as a collection of six stories related by the larger overarching theme? Perhaps. But we cannot always chose what the things we love look like, can we? Sometimes they just have to have that incredibly annoying anvil-heavy comet-shaped birthmark, and I have to make my peace with it.
............
.............
The first/last story of Adam and the central/middle story of Zachry (again, A to Z! See how smart I am? See? Can I please have a cookie now?) provide the real framework to this story, mirroring each other and reflecting off each other in the repeated motifs of tribal wars and slaughter and the meeting of 'developed' and 'primitive' nations, told from the viewpoints of members of first one and then another and underscoring essential humanity below all the superstitions and prejudices and mistrust. The revelations at which both Adam and Zachry arrive are simple and perhaps overly moralistic, but still relevant and humane. And despite the moralistic heavy-handedness, I loved them.
I hate to say it, but Robert Frobisher's story (the composer of the titular Cloud Atlas musical piece) left me cold. Luisa Rey's pulpy cheap prose held my attention only for the first half of the story and Timothy Cavendish's flowery adventure - only for the second. Sonmi-451 for the first half of the story was delightfully reminding me of The Windup Girl that I loved, and fell flat in the rushed second part. It almost felt that some of these stories were too large for the limited amount of space Mitchell could give them, and they would have been benefited from expansion.
But the Sloosha Crossing story - Zachry's tale - won me over completely, once I got over the migraine induced by overabundance of apostrophes in this futuristic simplistic dialect. S'r's'l'y', Mr. Mitchell, there had to have been some perhaps less 'authentic' but also less headache-causing way to tell this story. But I got over the initial defensive response and allowed myself to enjoy this scary postapocalyptic setting which in so many ways reminded me of The Slynx by Tatiana Tolstaya. There is just something that I love about the postapocalyptic primitive society setup, something that speaks to me while terrifying me to death at the same time, and this story had plenty of that.
And now, apparently, there will be a movie, which explains why everyone and their grandma is reading this book now, getting me on the bandwagon as well. The movie, that from the trailer seems to be focusing on the part that made me eye-roll (just like it made Mr. Cavendish, editing Luisa Rey manuscript!) - that damn souls connectedness bit. I thought the hints at it were unnecessary dramatic; to me enough of a connection came from all of the characters belonging to our troubled and yet resilient human race. But to each their own.
4 stars is the final verdict. And maybe someday in the future I will reread it being prepared for the gimmicky structure, and I will not let it annoy me, and I will maybe give it five stars. I would love that!
鈥斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌�
Recommended by: Kris
Then suddenly my heart was aching for the characters and their stories, and it did catch me by surprise.
And now it's been a week since I finished it, and I still find myself thinking about it. 'Okay, you win, book!' I have to admit grudgingly. You've wormed your way into my heart and I'd better make my peace with it.
Why did I resist liking it so much? Why did this book and I have such a rocky start to our relationship? Sheesh, let me think about it as I lie here on the imaginary psychiatrist's couch in Freudian times.
You see, its 'revolutionary structure' and all - it is basically six stories, five of which are arranged like concentric rings around one central uninterrupted story, slowly moving from A to Z as the stories go along (from Adam to Zachry), - leads even the author to question, "Revolutionary or gimmicky?"
And I say - gimmicky, my friend. Jarring, unnecessary, trying too hard and yet being needlessly distracting.
(Hey, you can also compare this book to the rings a raindrop makes in still waters. See, I can be allegorically poetic when need arises).
Would I have been easier for me to love it had it come simply as a collection of six stories related by the larger overarching theme? Perhaps. But we cannot always chose what the things we love look like, can we? Sometimes they just have to have that incredibly annoying anvil-heavy comet-shaped birthmark, and I have to make my peace with it.
"Another war is always coming, Robert. They are never properly extinguished. What sparks wars? The will to power, the backbone of human nature. The threat of violence, the fear of violence, or actual violence is the instrument of this dreadful will. You can see the will to power in bedrooms, kitchens, factories, unions, and the borders of states. Listen to this and remember it. The nation-state is merely human nature inflated to monstrous proportions. QED, nations are entities whose laws are written by violence. Thus it ever was, so ever shall it be. War, Robert, is one of humanity's two eternal companions."This book is a message, yes. About the never-ending power struggle that seems to be inherent to humanity, that drives it forward - until one day it perhaps drives it to the brink of demise. It's about the amazing resilience of humanity that bends but never breaks under the never-ending forward march of the power struggle. It is about our seemingly inevitable separation into the opposing camps - the oppressors and the oppressed, the powerful and the powerless, the haves and the have-nots, justifying those sometimes murky and sometimes crisp division lines with the arbitrary but hard-to-overturn notions of superiority and entitlement. It is also about the never-ending human struggle against such division, in one form or another.
"But, Adam, the world is wicked. Maoris prey on Moriori, Whites prey on darker-hued cousins, fleas prey on mice, cats prey on rats, Christians on infidels, first mates on cabin boys, Death on the Living. The weak are meat, the strong do eat."
............
.............The first/last story of Adam and the central/middle story of Zachry (again, A to Z! See how smart I am? See? Can I please have a cookie now?) provide the real framework to this story, mirroring each other and reflecting off each other in the repeated motifs of tribal wars and slaughter and the meeting of 'developed' and 'primitive' nations, told from the viewpoints of members of first one and then another and underscoring essential humanity below all the superstitions and prejudices and mistrust. The revelations at which both Adam and Zachry arrive are simple and perhaps overly moralistic, but still relevant and humane. And despite the moralistic heavy-handedness, I loved them.
"Why? Because of this: 鈥� one fine day, a purely predatory world shall consume itself. Yes, the Devil shall take the hindmost until the foremost is the hindmost. In an individual, selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction."As for the rest of the stories, David Mitchell plays with every genre and style he can imagine, trying to fully immerse himself in the period, real or imaginary, that he chooses to describe - with mixed results, at least for me.
I hate to say it, but Robert Frobisher's story (the composer of the titular Cloud Atlas musical piece) left me cold. Luisa Rey's pulpy cheap prose held my attention only for the first half of the story and Timothy Cavendish's flowery adventure - only for the second. Sonmi-451 for the first half of the story was delightfully reminding me of The Windup Girl that I loved, and fell flat in the rushed second part. It almost felt that some of these stories were too large for the limited amount of space Mitchell could give them, and they would have been benefited from expansion.
But the Sloosha Crossing story - Zachry's tale - won me over completely, once I got over the migraine induced by overabundance of apostrophes in this futuristic simplistic dialect. S'r's'l'y', Mr. Mitchell, there had to have been some perhaps less 'authentic' but also less headache-causing way to tell this story. But I got over the initial defensive response and allowed myself to enjoy this scary postapocalyptic setting which in so many ways reminded me of The Slynx by Tatiana Tolstaya. There is just something that I love about the postapocalyptic primitive society setup, something that speaks to me while terrifying me to death at the same time, and this story had plenty of that.
And now, apparently, there will be a movie, which explains why everyone and their grandma is reading this book now, getting me on the bandwagon as well. The movie, that from the trailer seems to be focusing on the part that made me eye-roll (just like it made Mr. Cavendish, editing Luisa Rey manuscript!) - that damn souls connectedness bit. I thought the hints at it were unnecessary dramatic; to me enough of a connection came from all of the characters belonging to our troubled and yet resilient human race. But to each their own.
"He who would do battle with the many-headed hydra of human nature must pay a world of pain & his family must pay it along with him! & only as you gasp your dying breath shall you understand, your life amounted to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean!" Yet what is any ocean but a multitude of drops?"
4 stars is the final verdict. And maybe someday in the future I will reread it being prepared for the gimmicky structure, and I will not let it annoy me, and I will maybe give it five stars. I would love that!
鈥斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌斺赌�
Recommended by: Kris
February 4, 2020
Vincent Vega and Jules Winnfield sit having breakfast in a diner discussing, among other things, Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell.
Jules: Well we'd have to be talkin' about one charming mother' pig. I mean he'd have to be ten times more charmin' than that Arnold on Green Acres, you know what I'm sayin'?
[Both laugh]
Vincent: Awright, check this out; I just finished reading this book called Cloud Atlas.
Jules: Cloud Atlas? What the f*** is that?
Vincent: It鈥檚 a pictorial key to the nomenclature of clouds. Early cloud atlases were an important element in the training of meteorologists and in weather forecasting, but that鈥檚 not the point, I鈥檓 talking about a book I read.
Jules: You鈥檙e always reading books, even in the john.
Vincent: Yeah, OK, but here鈥檚 the thing, this book tells six intricately connected stories that revolves around a central connection.
Jules: Explain.
Vincent: Ok, here鈥檚 how it works. It starts out with a guy in the 1800s on a whaling ship, or some s***, and then it just ends, just stops in the middle of the sentence and then jumps to the next story, in 1931 England.
Jules: So what鈥檚 that got to do with the dude in the 1800s?
Vincent: That鈥檚 what I鈥檓 trying to tell you, but listen, OK, then the story shifts to 1975 and this chick who is investigating energy corporation crime and this scientist who gets chased for writing a report.
Jules: Go on.
Vincent: Then it shifts to the future and this old guy in England who鈥檚 getting pinched by these small time hoods 鈥�
Jules: Stop, just stop, you鈥檝e already f* lost me.
Vincent: [laughing] I know, I know, but wait, then the story shifts to even further in the future to Korea and where people are made, produced, manufactured, whatever the f*** to be slaves, like working in McDonald鈥檚, except it鈥檚 not McDonald鈥檚 it like a future Chinese McDonald鈥檚 鈥�
Jules: Serving up a Royale wit cheese!
[Both laugh]
Vincent: Right, right, so then it shifts to way far in the future and I think it鈥檚 on Hawaii and they speak this pigeon English 鈥�
Jules: OK, ok, wait. Hold the f*** up, why does the author keep shifting stories, what the hell point is all this?
Vincent: I鈥檓 getting to that, see here鈥檚 the thing, I think all the people in the each story might be reincarnated and all really the same person, or soul, or whatever.
Jules: Reincarnated? Goddamn! But 鈥� that may be something upon which I can ponder as I walk the earth. I鈥檝e dreamed before that I was a master swordsman in an alien world, like a samurai master, except my sword was shining purple.
Vincent: Right, but then, see, he goes back and finishes all six stories, going back from future Hawaii, to the Chinese girl 鈥�
Jules: Thought you said she was Korean?
Vincent: Whatever, then to the old guy, then the girl in California in the 70s to the English musician and then back to the dude in the 1800s.
Jules: Man, that鈥檚 some f up s***, did you pick this up in Amsterdam?
Vincent: No, but the coolest thing is the structure, it鈥檚 where, OK, it鈥檚 like he doesn鈥檛 tell the story in a lineal pattern like most books, but all mixed up, but they鈥檙e all still connected together, really all telling one big story.
Jules: Alright, I can see that. That is pretty cool, kinda familiar too.
Vincent: Right, right, and by doing so the writer creates a dramatic tension between each segment, adding depth and interest to an already cool story. Also, Mitchell changes his writing style to match whichever story he鈥檚 doing.
Pumpkin: [Standing up with a gun] All right, everybody be cool, this is a robbery!
Honey Bunny: Any of you f* pricks move, and I'll execute every mother* last one of ya!
Jules: Well we'd have to be talkin' about one charming mother' pig. I mean he'd have to be ten times more charmin' than that Arnold on Green Acres, you know what I'm sayin'?
[Both laugh]
Vincent: Awright, check this out; I just finished reading this book called Cloud Atlas.
Jules: Cloud Atlas? What the f*** is that?
Vincent: It鈥檚 a pictorial key to the nomenclature of clouds. Early cloud atlases were an important element in the training of meteorologists and in weather forecasting, but that鈥檚 not the point, I鈥檓 talking about a book I read.
Jules: You鈥檙e always reading books, even in the john.
Vincent: Yeah, OK, but here鈥檚 the thing, this book tells six intricately connected stories that revolves around a central connection.
Jules: Explain.
Vincent: Ok, here鈥檚 how it works. It starts out with a guy in the 1800s on a whaling ship, or some s***, and then it just ends, just stops in the middle of the sentence and then jumps to the next story, in 1931 England.
Jules: So what鈥檚 that got to do with the dude in the 1800s?
Vincent: That鈥檚 what I鈥檓 trying to tell you, but listen, OK, then the story shifts to 1975 and this chick who is investigating energy corporation crime and this scientist who gets chased for writing a report.
Jules: Go on.
Vincent: Then it shifts to the future and this old guy in England who鈥檚 getting pinched by these small time hoods 鈥�
Jules: Stop, just stop, you鈥檝e already f* lost me.
Vincent: [laughing] I know, I know, but wait, then the story shifts to even further in the future to Korea and where people are made, produced, manufactured, whatever the f*** to be slaves, like working in McDonald鈥檚, except it鈥檚 not McDonald鈥檚 it like a future Chinese McDonald鈥檚 鈥�
Jules: Serving up a Royale wit cheese!
[Both laugh]
Vincent: Right, right, so then it shifts to way far in the future and I think it鈥檚 on Hawaii and they speak this pigeon English 鈥�
Jules: OK, ok, wait. Hold the f*** up, why does the author keep shifting stories, what the hell point is all this?
Vincent: I鈥檓 getting to that, see here鈥檚 the thing, I think all the people in the each story might be reincarnated and all really the same person, or soul, or whatever.
Jules: Reincarnated? Goddamn! But 鈥� that may be something upon which I can ponder as I walk the earth. I鈥檝e dreamed before that I was a master swordsman in an alien world, like a samurai master, except my sword was shining purple.
Vincent: Right, but then, see, he goes back and finishes all six stories, going back from future Hawaii, to the Chinese girl 鈥�
Jules: Thought you said she was Korean?
Vincent: Whatever, then to the old guy, then the girl in California in the 70s to the English musician and then back to the dude in the 1800s.
Jules: Man, that鈥檚 some f up s***, did you pick this up in Amsterdam?
Vincent: No, but the coolest thing is the structure, it鈥檚 where, OK, it鈥檚 like he doesn鈥檛 tell the story in a lineal pattern like most books, but all mixed up, but they鈥檙e all still connected together, really all telling one big story.
Jules: Alright, I can see that. That is pretty cool, kinda familiar too.
Vincent: Right, right, and by doing so the writer creates a dramatic tension between each segment, adding depth and interest to an already cool story. Also, Mitchell changes his writing style to match whichever story he鈥檚 doing.
Pumpkin: [Standing up with a gun] All right, everybody be cool, this is a robbery!
Honey Bunny: Any of you f* pricks move, and I'll execute every mother* last one of ya!
September 9, 2020
One of the most outstanding, hugely epic literary sagas ever. There seem to be six distinct writers in "Cloud Atlas"--distinct, original, "where the heck did these EVEN come from?"-type tableaux: their compilation suggesting that the boundaries of writing are endless. Mitchell is authentic in every story. These really are "found objects" placed in blatant, cunning contrast with each other. But that they were all borne from one fountainhead--from one single and chameleonic (probably the most chameleonic I have encountered since Peruvian Mario Vargas Llosa's) mind--this is the reason the novel is now a classic.
The movie is a very adequate companion piece, as the myriad loose ends are genuinely brought forth & rendered poetic. Really truly & madly love 'em both!
The movie is a very adequate companion piece, as the myriad loose ends are genuinely brought forth & rendered poetic. Really truly & madly love 'em both!
January 29, 2015
At the in Boston, there is an exhibit just outside the doors of the Planetarium that demonstrates鈥攖hrough a series of adjacent panels鈥攖he scale of the Earth in relation to the universe at large. The first panel shows the Earth鈥檚 location in the Solar System (as a microscopic dot, mind you), which is followed by a second panel showing the Solar System鈥檚 location in the Milky Way (also microscopic). The third panel is of the galaxy鈥檚 location in its Supercluster or whateverthefuck it鈥檚 called, and so forth and so on, concluding with a final panel depicting the entire observable universe. Reading Cloud Atlas is like zooming out from a point on the Earth to the edge of the universe and then back in again, as represented by those aforementioned panels. Do we need a visual aid?
The middle chapter, while the most difficult to read, is easily my favorite. In Sloosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥� an鈥� Ev鈥檙ythin鈥� After, humanity鈥檚 perpetual quest for domination provides the very spark needed to create and sustain civilization. However, this quest is a double-edged sword that becomes its own downfall, since domination is a self-defeating goal, and it is this downfall that ultimately causes civilization to collapse. But despite its bleak forecasts, Cloud Atlas inspires a glimmer of hope for our future, for as insignificant as one person may be, as much as one fathoms his life to have no impact greater than that of a single drop in a limitless ocean, the question is posed: 鈥淵et what is any ocean but a multitude of drops?鈥�
The Milky Way鈥檚 Galactic Center
漏 2009 Serge Brunier,
This novel, of course, has little to do with the cosmos, but the analogy is fitting for describing the vastness of its scope. It is a hugely ambitious novel connecting characters through space and time, from Adam Ewing鈥檚 mid-nineteenth century voyage from the to Sonmi~451鈥檚 ascent to sentience at an indeterminate period in Korea鈥檚 future, and several places in between. The novel then goes even further into the future, so far in fact that it becomes indistinguishable from the past, and like the reverse zoom in the video above, the novel collapses back in on itself, ending exactly where it began.
鈥淵ay, Old Uns鈥� Smart mastered sicks, miles, seeds an鈥� made miracles ord鈥檔ary, but it din鈥檛 master one thing, nay, a hunger in the hearts o鈥� humans, yay, a hunger for more.鈥�Cloud Atlas is about human slavery and captivity as it exists in all its forms, at all points in time. Throughout history, humans have enslaved each other on the basis of skin color and racial background, religious beliefs and cultural or ethnic differences. The weak have been enslaved to the strong, the old to the young, and the poor to the well-to-do. This novel goes a step further by exploring the concept of knowledge and how it relates to the socioeconomic hierarchy of the future. Knowledge is all that separates us from savagery, and yet it is our most transient asset. I am probably making this book sound like a course in sociology, though it is anything but. Cloud Atlas is a brilliantly constructed novel delineating the cyclicality of human civilization and it is written by someone who has immediately become one of my favorite authors. In fact, 鈥檚 only flaw is that he is indecisive. Unable to choose among the various genres of fiction available, he ends up...writing them all! Cloud Atlas is historical fiction, it is a dark comedy, it is a crime thriller, it is science fiction, it is a post-apocalyptic dystopia.
The middle chapter, while the most difficult to read, is easily my favorite. In Sloosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥� an鈥� Ev鈥檙ythin鈥� After, humanity鈥檚 perpetual quest for domination provides the very spark needed to create and sustain civilization. However, this quest is a double-edged sword that becomes its own downfall, since domination is a self-defeating goal, and it is this downfall that ultimately causes civilization to collapse. But despite its bleak forecasts, Cloud Atlas inspires a glimmer of hope for our future, for as insignificant as one person may be, as much as one fathoms his life to have no impact greater than that of a single drop in a limitless ocean, the question is posed: 鈥淵et what is any ocean but a multitude of drops?鈥�
The Milky Way鈥檚 Galactic Center
漏 2009 Serge Brunier,
September 2, 2021
(Book 13 From 1001 Books) - Cloud Atlas, David (Stephen) Mitchell
The book consists of six nested stories; each is read or observed by a main character of the next, thus they progress in time through the central sixth story.
The first five stories are each interrupted at a pivotal moment. After the sixth story, the others are closed in reverse chronological order, with the main character reading or observing the chronologically earlier work in the chain. Each story contains a document, movie, or tradition that appears in an earlier story.
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 乇賵夭 亘蹖爻鬲 賵 趩賴丕乇賲 賲丕賴 丌诏賵爻鬲 爻丕賱 2014賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 丕胤賱爻 丕亘乇貨 丕孬乇: 丿蹖賵蹖丿 賲蹖趩賱貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 毓賱蹖 賲賳氐賵乇蹖貙 賲卮禺氐丕鬲 賳卮乇 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 乇賵夭诏丕乇貙 1392貙 丿乇 680氐貙 卮丕亘讴 9789643744816貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 亘乇蹖鬲丕賳蹖丕 - 爻丿賴 蹖 21賲
丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賵蹖跇诏蹖賴丕貙 賵 卮亘丕賴鬲 丕賳爻丕賳賴丕 乇丕貙 丿乇 卮卮 毓氐乇 賳丕賴賲诏賵賳 亘賴 鬲氐賵蹖乇 禺蹖丕賱 賲蹖讴卮丿貨 毓亘丕乇鬲 芦丕胤賱爻禄貙 丿乇 賲蹖鬲賵賱賵跇蹖 芦蹖賵賳丕賳禄貙 賳丕賲 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 诏乇賵賴 芦鬲丕蹖鬲丕賳禄賴丕爻鬲貙 讴賴 賳丕賮乇賲丕賳蹖 丌睾丕夭 讴乇丿賳丿貙 丌賳诏丕賴 禺丿丕蹖丕賳貙 芦丕胤賱爻禄 乇丕 讴蹖賮乇 丿丕丿賳丿貙 鬲丕 讴乇賴 蹖 夭賲蹖賳 乇丕 亘乇 爻乇 賵 亘丕 卮丕賳賴 賴丕蹖 禺賵蹖卮 丨賲賱 讴賳丿貨 芦倬乇爻蹖賵爻禄 乇丕 亘乇 賵蹖 乇丨賲鬲 丌賲丿貙 賵 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 讴賵賴賴丕蹖蹖 丕賳鬲賯丕賱 丿丕丿貙 讴賵賴賴丕蹖 賲夭亘賵乇貙 賴賲丕賳 噩亘丕賱 芦丕胤賱爻禄 賴爻鬲賳丿貙 讴賴 亘丿丕賳 爻亘亘 亘賴 賳丕賲 賵蹖 禺賵丕賳丿賴 卮丿賴 丕賳丿貨 丿乇 爻丿賴 蹖 卮丕賳夭丿賴 賲蹖賱丕丿蹖貙 讴賴 丿乇 芦丕乇賵倬丕禄 讴鬲丕亘賴丕蹖 芦噩睾乇丕賮蹖丕禄貙 亘丕 賳賯卮賴 丕賳鬲卮丕乇 蹖丕賮鬲貙 氐賵乇鬲 芦丕胤賱爻禄 乇丕貙 亘乇 倬卮鬲 噩賱丿 讴鬲丕亘賴丕貙 鬲乇爻蹖賲 讴乇丿賳丿貙 丿乇 丨丕賱蹖讴賴 丕蹖卮丕賳 讴乇賴 蹖 夭賲蹖賳 乇丕 丨賲賱 賲蹖讴賳丿貙 賵 丕夭 丌賳 倬爻貙 讴鬲丕亘賴丕蹖 賳賯卮賴 噩睾乇丕賮蹖丕 乇丕 芦丕胤賱爻禄 禺賵丕賳丿賳丿貨 賮蹖賱賲蹖 賳蹖夭 亘丕 丕賯鬲亘丕爻 丕夭 賴賲蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 爻丕禺鬲賴 卮丿賴 丕爻鬲貙 賮蹖賱賲賳丕賲賴 丕夭 卮卮 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 噩丿丕诏丕賳賴貙 賵 亘乇丕蹖 卮卮 丿賵乇賴 蹖 夭賲丕賳蹖 賲鬲賮丕賵鬲貙 賳賵卮鬲賴 卮丿賴 丕爻鬲貨 芦蹖讴 - 爻丕賱 1849賲蹖賱丕丿蹖...貨 爻賮乇蹖 亘乇 丕賲賵丕噩 丿乇蹖丕貨 丕夭 噩夭丕蹖乇 丕賯蹖丕賳賵爻 丌乇丕賲 鬲丕 爻丕賳 賮乇丕賳爻蹖爻讴賵禄貨 芦丿賵 - 爻丕賱 1936賲蹖賱丕丿蹖貙 讴賲亘乇蹖噩貙 卮丕賴讴丕乇 亘丿賳丕賲禄貨 芦爻賴 - 爻丕賱 1973賲蹖賱丕丿蹖 爻丕賳賮乇丕賳爻蹖爻讴賵貨 丨賯蹖賯鬲 倬乇 賴夭蹖賳賴禄貨 芦趩賴丕乇 - 爻丕賱 2012賲蹖賱丕丿蹖貙 賱賳丿賳貨 賯鬲賱蹖 鬲兀孬蹖乇 诏匕丕乇禄貨 芦倬賳噩 鈥� 爻丕賱 2144賲蹖賱丕丿蹖貙 爻卅賵賱貨 丕賳賯賱丕亘蹖 賲鬲賮丕賵鬲禄貨 芦卮卮 鈥� 蹖讴氐丿 賵 卮氐鬲 爻丕賱 倬爻 丕夭 倬丕蹖丕賳 丿賳蹖丕貨 丕蹖賳讴 丕禺乇 丕賱夭賲丕賳禄.貨
賳賯賱 丕夭 賲鬲賳: (乇賵夭賳賵卮鬲賴丕蹖 芦丌丿丕賲 丕賽賵蹖賳诏禄 丕夭 丕賯蹖丕賳賵爻 丌乇丕賲 噩賳賵亘蹖貙 倬賳噩卮賳亘賴貙 賴賮鬲 賳賵丕賲亘乇賭賭 丌賳爻賵蹖 丿賴讴丿賴颅 蹖 爻乇禺倬賵爻鬲丕賳貙 丿乇 爻丕丨賱蹖 賲鬲乇賵讴貙 亘賴 乇丿 倬丕賴丕蹖 噩丿蹖丿蹖 亘乇禺賵乇丿賲貨 丕夭 賲蹖丕賳 噩賱亘讴賴丕 賵 賳丕乇诏蹖賱賴丕蹖 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖賽 诏賳丿蹖丿賴 賵 亘丕賲亘賵賴丕貙 乇丿倬丕賴丕 賲乇丕 亘賴 氐丕丨亘 禺賵丿 乇爻丕賳丿賳丿貨 賲乇丿蹖 爻賮蹖丿 倬賵爻鬲貙 亘丕 倬丕趩賴 賴丕 賵 丌爻鬲蹖賳賴丕蹖 鬲丕 禺賵乇丿賴貙 乇蹖卮蹖 賲乇鬲亘貙 賵 蹖讴 讴賱丕賴 禺夭 賮賵賯 颅丕賱毓丕丿賴 亘夭乇诏貨 亘丕 趩賳丕賳 丿賯鬲 賵 噩丿蹖鬲蹖 亘丕 蹖讴 賯丕卮賯 趩丕蹖颅禺賵乇蹖 賲卮睾賵賱 讴賳丿賳貙 賵 丕賱讴 讴乇丿賳 賲丕爻賴颅 蹖 禺丕讴爻鬲乇蹖 亘賵丿 讴賴 鬲丕 賵賯鬲蹖 丕夭 賮丕氐賱賴颅 蹖 丿賴 蹖丕乇丿蹖貙 亘賴 丕賵 爻賱丕賲 讴乇丿賲貙 賲鬲賵噩賴 丨囟賵乇賲 賳卮丿貨 丕蹖賳诏賵賳賴 亘賵丿 讴賴 亘丕 噩賳丕亘 芦丿讴鬲乇 賴賳乇蹖 诏賵爻禄貙 噩乇丕丨蹖 丕夭 賳噩亘丕蹖 賱賳丿賳 丌卮賳丕 卮丿賲貨 賲賱蹖鬲 丕賵 亘乇丕蹖賲 鬲毓噩亘 颅丌賵乇 賳亘賵丿貨 趩乇丕 讴賴 賴蹖趩 丌卮蹖丕賳賴颅 蹖 賲鬲乇賵讴 蹖丕 噩夭蹖乇賴颅 蹖 丿賵乇 丕賮鬲丕丿賴 颅丕蹖 賳蹖爻鬲 讴賴 倬丕蹖 蹖讴 丕賳诏賱蹖爻蹖 亘賴 丌賳 賳乇爻蹖丿賴 亘丕卮丿貙 丨鬲蹖 賳賯丕胤蹖 讴賴 乇賵蹖 賴蹖趩 賳賯卮賴颅 丕蹖 賯丕亘賱 賲卮丕賴丿賴 賳亘丕卮賳丿
丌蹖丕 噩賳丕亘 丿讴鬲乇 丿乇 丕蹖賳 爻丕丨賱 賳讴亘鬲颅亘丕乇 趩蹖夭蹖 诏賲 讴乇丿賴 亘賵丿賳丿責 丌蹖丕 賲賳 賲蹖颅鬲賵丕賳爻鬲賲 讴賲讴蹖 亘賴 丕蹖卮丕賳 亘讴賳賲責 芦丿讴鬲乇 诏賵爻禄 爻乇卮 乇丕 鬲讴丕賳 丿丕丿 賵 诏乇賴 丿爻鬲賲丕賱卮 乇丕 亘丕夭 讴乇丿 賵 亘丕 睾乇賵乇蹖 丌卮讴丕乇 賲丨鬲賵蹖丕鬲 丌賳 乇丕 賳卮丕賳 丿丕丿貨 芦丿賳丿丕賳貙 噩賳丕亘貙 丕蹖賳 噩丕賲賴丕蹖 賲蹖賳丕蹖蹖貙 賴丿賮 噩爻鬲噩賵蹖 亘賳丿賴 賴爻鬲賳丿貨 丿乇 爻丕賱蹖丕賳 诏匕卮鬲賴 丕蹖賳 讴乇丕賳賴 颅蹖 乇賵爻鬲丕蹖蹖 賲丨賱 爻賵乇趩乇丕賳蹖 丌丿賲禺賵丕乇丕賳 亘賵丿賴貙 亘賱賴貙 噩丕蹖蹖 讴賴 賯賵蹖颅鬲乇賴丕貙 囟毓蹖賮颅鬲乇賴丕 乇丕 賲蹖颅亘賱毓蹖丿賳丿貙 賵 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕 乇丕 亘賴 亘蹖乇賵賳 鬲賮 賲蹖颅讴乇丿賴颅 丕賳丿貙 賴賲丕賳胤賵乇 讴賴 噩賳丕亘毓丕賱蹖 蹖丕 亘賳丿賴 賴爻鬲賴颅 蹖 诏蹖賱丕爻 乇丕 鬲賮 賲蹖颅讴賳蹖賲貨 丕賲丕 丕蹖賳 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕蹖 丌爻蹖丕亘貙 丨囟乇鬲 丌賯丕貙 鬲亘丿蹖賱 亘賴 胤賱丕 禺賵丕賴丿 卮丿貨 趩胤賵乇責 蹖讴 氐賳毓鬲诏乇 禺蹖丕亘丕賳 倬蹖讴丕丿賱蹖 讴賴 亘乇丕蹖 賳噩蹖亘夭丕丿诏丕賳 丿賳丿丕賳 毓丕乇蹖賴 颅丕蹖 賲蹖颅爻丕貙夭丿 賲亘賱睾 爻禺丕賵鬲賲賳丿丕 賳賴颅丕蹖 亘乇丕蹖 丿賳丿賳 賴丕蹖 丕賳爻丕賳 賲蹖颅倬乇丿丕貨丿. 賲蹖颅丿丕賳蹖丿 亘丕 蹖讴 趩賴丕乇賲 倬賵賳丿 丕夭 丕蹖賳 丿賳丿賳 賴丕 趩賯丿乇 毓丕蹖丿賲 賲蹖颅卮賵丿貙 賯乇亘丕賳責禄貨
丕毓鬲乇丕賮 讴乇丿賲 讴賴 賳賲蹖颅丿丕賳賲
賲賳 賴賲 亘賴 卮賲丕 賳賲蹖颅诏賵蹖賲 賯乇亘丕賳貙 趩賵賳 讴賴 丕蹖賳 丕夭 丕爻乇丕乇 丨乇賮賴 丕颅爻鬲!禄 丿賲丕睾卮 乇丕 賲丕賱蹖丿貨 芦噩賳丕亘 丕賽賵蹖賳诏貙 卮賲丕 亘丕 夭賵噩賴 颅蹖 賲丕乇讴蹖夭 诏乇蹖爻 丕賴賱賽 賲賽蹖颅賮蹖乇 丌卮賳丕 賴爻鬲蹖丿責 禺蹖乇責 禺賵卮 亘賴 爻毓丕丿鬲丕賳貙 趩乇丕 讴賴 丕賵 賱丕卮賴 颅丕蹖颅爻鬲 丿乇 賱亘丕爻 夭賳丕賳賴貨 倬賳噩 爻丕賱 丕夭 賱讴賴 丿丕乇 卮丿賳 賳丕賲 賲賳 鬲賵爻胤 丕蹖賳 毓噩賵夭賴 颅蹖 賳丕亘讴丕乇 賲蹖颅诏匕乇丿貙 亘賱賴貙 趩蹖夭蹖 讴賴 賲賳噩乇 亘賴 鬲丨乇蹖賲 卮丿賳 賲賳 鬲賵爻胤 丕卮乇丕賮 卮丿貙禄 丿讴鬲乇 芦诏賵爻禄 賳诏丕賴卮 乇丕 亘賴 丿乇蹖丕 丿賵禺鬲
丌賵丕乇诏蹖 賲賳 丕夭 賴賲丕賳 爻丕毓鬲 卮賵賲 丌睾丕夭 卮丿
亘賴 丿讴鬲乇 诏賵爻 丕亘乇丕夭 賴賲丿乇丿蹖 讴乇丿賲
賲賲賳賵賳賲 賯乇亘丕賳貙 賲賲賳賵賳貙 丕賲丕 丕蹖賳 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕 -丿爻鬲賲丕賱卮 乇丕 鬲讴丕賳 丿丕丿- 芦賮乇卮鬲賴 賴丕颅蹖 乇爻鬲诏丕乇蹖 賲賳 颅丕賳丿貨 丕噩丕夭賴 丿賴蹖丿 鬲賵囟蹖丨 丿賴賲貨 夭賵噩賴颅 蹖 賲丕乇讴蹖夭 丕夭 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕蹖蹖 毓丕乇蹖賴 颅丕蹖 丕爻鬲賮丕丿賴 賲蹖颅讴賳丿貙 讴賴 倬夭卮讴 賲匕讴賵乇 丌賳賴丕 乇丕 賲蹖颅爻丕夭丿貨 讴乇蹖爻賲爻 亘毓丿貙 夭賲丕賳蹖 讴賴 丌賳 夭賳 丕丨賲賯 囟蹖丕賮鬲 賲噩賱賱卮 乇丕 亘丕 丨囟賵乇 爻乇丕賳 丨讴賵賲鬲蹖 賵 丕卮乇丕賮 鬲乇鬲蹖亘 丿賴丿貙 賲賳貙 賴賳乇蹖 诏賵爻貙 丕夭 噩丕蹖賲 亘乇禺賵丕賴賲 禺賵丕爻鬲 賵 亘賴 賴賲诏丕賳 丕毓賱丕賲 禺賵丕賴賲 讴乇丿 讴賴 賲蹖夭亘丕賳颅賲丕賳 亘丕 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕蹖 丌丿賲禺賵丕乇丕賳 賲卮睾賵賱 噩賵蹖丿賳 睾匕丕蹖卮 丕爻鬲! 賯丕亘賱 倬蹖卮 颅亘蹖賳蹖颅 丕爻鬲 讴賴 爻賽乇 賴賵亘丕乇鬲 亘丕 賲賳 亘賴 賲禺丕賱賮鬲 賲蹖颅倬乇丿丕夭丿貨 丌賳 丿賴丕鬲蹖 賮乇蹖丕丿 禺賵丕賴丿 讴卮蹖丿 芦卮賵丕賴丿鬲 乇丕 丕乇丕卅賴 讴賳貙 蹖丕 氐丿丕蹖鬲 乇丕 亘亘乇.禄 賲賳 禺賵丕賴賲 诏賮鬲: 芦卮賵丕賴丿貙 爻乇 賴賵亘丕乇鬲責 丌賴貙 賲賳 禺賵丿賲 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕蹖 賲丕丿乇鬲丕賳 乇丕 丕夭 蹖讴 爻賱賮颅丿丕賳蹖 丿乇 丕賯蹖丕賳賵爻 丌乇丕賲 噩賳賵亘蹖 噩賲毓 讴乇丿賲貨 丕蹖賳噩丕貙 賯乇亘丕賳貙 丕蹖賳 賴賲 鬲毓丿丕丿蹖 丕夭 乇賮賯丕蹖颅 丌賳賴丕! 賵 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕 乇丕 鬲賵蹖 馗乇賮 爻賵倬颅禺賵乇蹖 丌賳 夭賳 禺丕賱蹖 賲蹖颅讴賳賲貙 賵 丕蹖賳讴丕乇 丨囟乇鬲 丌賯丕 丌鬲卮 丕賳鬲賯丕賲賲 乇丕 賮乇賵 賲蹖颅賳卮丕賳丿! 亘匕賱賴颅 诏賵蹖丕賳 賲丕乇讴蹖夭賽 亘蹖乇賵丨 乇丕 丿乇 乇賵夭賳丕賲賴 賴丕蹖颅卮丕賳 亘賴 爻禺乇賴 禺賵丕賴賳丿 讴卮蹖丿 賵 鬲丕 蹖讴 賮氐賱 亘毓丿 丕賵 禺蹖賱蹖 禺賵卮 丕賯亘丕賱 禺賵丕賴丿 亘賵丿 丨鬲蹖 丕诏乇 亘賴 囟蹖丕賮鬲 賮賯乇丕 丿毓賵鬲 卮賵丿!禄貨
亘丕 毓噩賱賴 亘丕 賴賳乇蹖 诏賵爻 賵丿丕毓 讴乇丿賲. 禺蹖丕賱 賲蹖颅讴賳賲 丕賵 賲噩賳賵賳 亘丕卮丿
噩賲毓賴貙 賴卮鬲 賳賵丕賲亘乇- 丿乇 讴丕乇诏丕賴 讴卮鬲蹖 颅爻丕夭蹖 爻丕丿賴颅 蹖 夭蹖乇 倬賳噩乇賴颅颅 蹖 丕鬲丕賯賲貙 讴丕乇 爻丕禺鬲 鬲蹖乇 丿讴賱 讴卮鬲蹖 鬲丨鬲 賳馗丕乇鬲 噩賳丕亘 賵丕讴乇 丿乇 噩乇蹖丕賳 丕爻鬲貨 蹖诏丕賳賴 賲蹖禺丕賳賴 颅丿丕乇賽 丕購賵卮賳 亘賽蹖 讴賴 賴賲趩賳蹖賳 鬲丕噩乇賽 毓賲丿賴颅 蹖 丕賱賵丕乇 賳蹖夭 賴爻鬲 賵 丿乇 賲賵乇丿 爻丕賱賴丕 鬲噩乇亘賴颅 丕卮 亘賴 毓賳賵丕賳 蹖讴 丕爻鬲丕丿 讴卮鬲蹖 颅爻丕夭 丿乇 賱蹖賵乇倬賵賱 賱丕賮 賲蹖颅夭賳丿貨 (丌賳賯丿乇 丕夭 丌丿丕亘 賵 乇爻賵賲 丕蹖賳 賳賵丕丨蹖 爻乇賲 賲蹖颅卮賵丿 讴賴 亘鬲賵丕賳賲 趩賳蹖賳 丿乇賵睾 亘毓蹖丿蹖 乇丕 鬲卮禺蹖氐 丿賴賲.) 噩賳丕亘 丕賽爻讴丕蹖丿 亘賴 賲賳 诏賮鬲賳丿 讴賴 蹖讴 賴賮鬲賴颅 蹖 鬲賲丕賲 鬲丕 丕鬲賲丕賲 讴丕乇 賵 鬲丨賵蹖賱 芦倬乇丕賮賽鬲賽爻禄 亘丕賯蹖 賲丕賳丿賴貨 賴賮鬲 乇賵夭 丿蹖诏乇 爻乇 讴乇丿賳 丿乇 芦賲丕爻讴鬲禄貙 丨讴賲 卮賵賲蹖 亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖颅乇爻丿貙 亘丕 丕蹖賳 丨丕賱 賵賯鬲蹖 亘賴 蹖丕丿 賳蹖卮 賴賵賱賳丕讴 胤賵賮丕賳 賵 賲賱賵丕賳丕賳蹖 丕賮鬲丕丿賲 讴賴 丿乇 讴卮鬲蹖 丕夭 丿爻鬲 丿丕丿蹖賲貙 亘丿丕賯亘丕賱蹖 讴賳賵賳蹖颅 丿乇 賳馗乇賲 噩賱賵賴颅 丕卮 乇丕 丕夭 丿爻鬲 丿丕丿
丕賲乇賵夭 丿乇 倬賱讴丕賳 亘賴 丿讴鬲乇 诏賵爻 亘乇禺賵乇丿賲貙 賵 氐亘丨丕賳賴 乇丕 亘丕 賴賲 禺賵乇丿蹖賲貨 丕賵 丕夭 丕賵丕爻胤 丕讴鬲亘乇 丿乇 賲丕爻讴鬲 爻丕讴賳 丕爻鬲貨 蹖毓賳蹖 亘毓丿 丕夭 丕蹖賳 讴賴 亘丕 蹖讴 讴卮鬲蹖 鬲噩丕乇蹖 亘乇夭蹖賱蹖 亘賴 賳丕賲 芦賳丕賲賵乇丕丿賵爻禄 丕夭 賮蹖噩蹖 亘賴 丕蹖賳噩丕 丌賲丿賴貨 丿乇 賮蹖噩蹖 丕賵 亘賴 胤亘丕亘鬲 賲卮睾賵賱 亘賵丿賴 賵 丨丕賱丕 賴賲 賲賳鬲馗乇 乇爻蹖丿賳 蹖讴 讴卮鬲蹖 卮讴丕乇 爻蹖賱 丕爻鬲乇丕賱蹖丕蹖蹖 亘丕 賳丕賲 芦賳賽賱蹖禄 丕颅爻鬲 讴賴 賲丿鬲賴丕 丕夭 賲賵毓丿 丌賲丿賳卮 賲蹖颅诏匕乇丿貙 賵 賲蹖颅禺賵丕賴丿 亘丕 丌賳 亘賴 爻蹖丿賳蹖 亘乇賵丿貨 丕夭 賲爻鬲毓賲乇賴 賴賲 亘丕 蹖讴 讴卮鬲蹖 賲爻丕賮乇亘乇蹖 禺賵丿 乇丕 亘賴 夭丕丿诏丕賴卮 賱賳丿賳 賲蹖乇爻丕賳丿
賯囟丕賵鬲 賲賳 丿乇亘丕乇賴颅 蹖 丿讴鬲乇 诏賵爻 毓噩賵賱丕賳賴 賵 睾蹖乇賲賳氐賮丕賳賴 亘賵丿貨 丿乇 丨乇賮賴颅 蹖 賲賳 丌丿賲 亘丕蹖丿 賴賲趩賵賳 丿蹖賵跇賳貙 亘丿亘蹖賳 賵 讴賱亘蹖 賲爻賱讴 亘丕卮丿貙 丕賲丕 讴賱亘蹖 賲爻賱讴 亘賵丿賳 賴賲 賲蹖颅鬲賵丕賳丿 趩卮賲 丌丿賲 乇丕 亘賴 乇賵蹖 禺氐賵氐蹖丕鬲 馗乇蹖賮颅鬲乇 亘亘賳丿丿貨 丿讴鬲乇 睾乇丕亘鬲賴丕蹖 禺丕氐 禺賵丿 乇丕 丿丕乇丿 賵 鬲賳賴丕 亘丕 蹖讴 噩乇毓賴 倬蹖爻讴賵蹖 倬乇鬲睾丕賱蹖 (夭蹖丕丿賴颅 乇賵蹖 賳賲蹖颅讴賳丿)貙 鬲讴 鬲讴 丌賳賴丕 乇丕 亘乇賲蹖颅卮賲乇丿貙 丕賲丕 囟賲丕賳鬲 賲蹖颅丿賴賲 讴賴 丕賵 亘丕蹖丿 蹖诏丕賳賴 賳噩蹖亘颅夭丕丿賴颅 蹖 丿蹖诏乇 丿乇 毓乇囟 噩睾乇丕賮蹖丕蹖蹖 卮乇賯 爻蹖丿賳蹖 賵 睾乇亘 賵丕賱倬乇蹖爻賵 亘丕卮丿貨 卮丕蹖丿 丨鬲蹖 亘乇丕蹖颅丕卮 賲毓乇賮蹖颅賳丕賲賴颅 丕蹖 亘賴 禺丕賳賵丕丿賴颅 蹖 倬丕鬲乇蹖噩颅 丿乇 爻蹖丿賳蹖 亘賳賵蹖爻賲貙 趩乇丕 讴賴 丿讴鬲乇 诏賵爻 賵 賮乇丿 毓夭蹖夭 賴乇 丿賵 丕夭 蹖讴 賯賲丕卮 颅丕賳丿
賴賵丕蹖 賳丕賲爻丕毓丿 賲丕賳毓 丕夭 诏乇丿卮 氐亘丨颅诏丕賴蹖 颅丕賲 卮丿貙 讴賳丕乇 丌鬲卮 亘賴 丕賮爻丕賳賴颅 爻乇丕蹖蹖 賳卮爻鬲蹖賲 賵 爻丕毓鬲賴丕 亘乇丕蹖颅賲丕賳 賴賲趩賵賳 丿賯丕蹖賯蹖 诏匕卮鬲貨 亘乇丕蹖 丕賵 賲賮氐賱丕 丕夭 鬲蹖賱丿丕 賵 噩讴爻賵賳 诏賮鬲賲 賵 丕夭 賵丨卮鬲賲 丿乇亘丕乇賴颅颅 蹖 芦鬲亘 胤賱丕禄 丿乇 爻丕賳賮乇丕賳爻蹖爻讴賵 氐丨亘鬲 讴乇丿賲貨 爻倬爻 诏賮鬲诏賵蹖颅賲丕賳 亘賴 卮賴乇 賲丨賱 爻讴賵賳鬲 賲賳 讴卮蹖丿 賵 亘毓丿 賴賲 丿乇 賲賵乇丿 诏蹖亘賵賳 賵 诏賵丿賵蹖賳 賵 丕賳诏賱賴丕 賵 賱賵讴賵賲賵鬲賵 賴丕 氐丨亘鬲 讴乇丿貨賲. 蹖讴 賲丨丕賵乇賴颅 蹖 诏乇賲 趩蹖夭蹖颅爻鬲 讴賴 亘賴 卮丿鬲 丿乇 毓乇卮賴颅 蹖 倬乇丕賮賽鬲賽爻 丕夭 丌賳 賲丨乇賵賲 亘賵丿賲貙 賵 丿讴鬲乇 賴賲 亘賴 鬲丨賯蹖賯 丌丿賲 賴賲賴 趩蹖夭 丿丕賳 賵 賮賴賲蹖丿賴 颅丕蹖颅爻鬲貨 亘賴 毓賱丕賵賴 丕賵 丕乇鬲卮蹖 丕夭 賲賴乇賴 賴丕蹖 丨讴丕讴蹖 卮丿賴 卮胤乇賳噩颅 丿丕乇丿貙 讴賴 鬲丕 毓夭蹖賲鬲 倬乇丕賮賽鬲賽爻 蹖丕 賵乇賵丿 賳賽賱蹖 賲丕 乇丕 爻乇诏乇賲 賳诏丕賴 禺賵丕賴賳丿 丿丕卮鬲)貨 倬丕蹖丕賳 賳賯賱
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 11/08/1399賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 10/06/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
The book consists of six nested stories; each is read or observed by a main character of the next, thus they progress in time through the central sixth story.
The first five stories are each interrupted at a pivotal moment. After the sixth story, the others are closed in reverse chronological order, with the main character reading or observing the chronologically earlier work in the chain. Each story contains a document, movie, or tradition that appears in an earlier story.
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 乇賵夭 亘蹖爻鬲 賵 趩賴丕乇賲 賲丕賴 丌诏賵爻鬲 爻丕賱 2014賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 丕胤賱爻 丕亘乇貨 丕孬乇: 丿蹖賵蹖丿 賲蹖趩賱貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 毓賱蹖 賲賳氐賵乇蹖貙 賲卮禺氐丕鬲 賳卮乇 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 乇賵夭诏丕乇貙 1392貙 丿乇 680氐貙 卮丕亘讴 9789643744816貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 亘乇蹖鬲丕賳蹖丕 - 爻丿賴 蹖 21賲
丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賵蹖跇诏蹖賴丕貙 賵 卮亘丕賴鬲 丕賳爻丕賳賴丕 乇丕貙 丿乇 卮卮 毓氐乇 賳丕賴賲诏賵賳 亘賴 鬲氐賵蹖乇 禺蹖丕賱 賲蹖讴卮丿貨 毓亘丕乇鬲 芦丕胤賱爻禄貙 丿乇 賲蹖鬲賵賱賵跇蹖 芦蹖賵賳丕賳禄貙 賳丕賲 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 诏乇賵賴 芦鬲丕蹖鬲丕賳禄賴丕爻鬲貙 讴賴 賳丕賮乇賲丕賳蹖 丌睾丕夭 讴乇丿賳丿貙 丌賳诏丕賴 禺丿丕蹖丕賳貙 芦丕胤賱爻禄 乇丕 讴蹖賮乇 丿丕丿賳丿貙 鬲丕 讴乇賴 蹖 夭賲蹖賳 乇丕 亘乇 爻乇 賵 亘丕 卮丕賳賴 賴丕蹖 禺賵蹖卮 丨賲賱 讴賳丿貨 芦倬乇爻蹖賵爻禄 乇丕 亘乇 賵蹖 乇丨賲鬲 丌賲丿貙 賵 丕賵 乇丕 亘賴 讴賵賴賴丕蹖蹖 丕賳鬲賯丕賱 丿丕丿貙 讴賵賴賴丕蹖 賲夭亘賵乇貙 賴賲丕賳 噩亘丕賱 芦丕胤賱爻禄 賴爻鬲賳丿貙 讴賴 亘丿丕賳 爻亘亘 亘賴 賳丕賲 賵蹖 禺賵丕賳丿賴 卮丿賴 丕賳丿貨 丿乇 爻丿賴 蹖 卮丕賳夭丿賴 賲蹖賱丕丿蹖貙 讴賴 丿乇 芦丕乇賵倬丕禄 讴鬲丕亘賴丕蹖 芦噩睾乇丕賮蹖丕禄貙 亘丕 賳賯卮賴 丕賳鬲卮丕乇 蹖丕賮鬲貙 氐賵乇鬲 芦丕胤賱爻禄 乇丕貙 亘乇 倬卮鬲 噩賱丿 讴鬲丕亘賴丕貙 鬲乇爻蹖賲 讴乇丿賳丿貙 丿乇 丨丕賱蹖讴賴 丕蹖卮丕賳 讴乇賴 蹖 夭賲蹖賳 乇丕 丨賲賱 賲蹖讴賳丿貙 賵 丕夭 丌賳 倬爻貙 讴鬲丕亘賴丕蹖 賳賯卮賴 噩睾乇丕賮蹖丕 乇丕 芦丕胤賱爻禄 禺賵丕賳丿賳丿貨 賮蹖賱賲蹖 賳蹖夭 亘丕 丕賯鬲亘丕爻 丕夭 賴賲蹖賳 讴鬲丕亘 爻丕禺鬲賴 卮丿賴 丕爻鬲貙 賮蹖賱賲賳丕賲賴 丕夭 卮卮 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 噩丿丕诏丕賳賴貙 賵 亘乇丕蹖 卮卮 丿賵乇賴 蹖 夭賲丕賳蹖 賲鬲賮丕賵鬲貙 賳賵卮鬲賴 卮丿賴 丕爻鬲貨 芦蹖讴 - 爻丕賱 1849賲蹖賱丕丿蹖...貨 爻賮乇蹖 亘乇 丕賲賵丕噩 丿乇蹖丕貨 丕夭 噩夭丕蹖乇 丕賯蹖丕賳賵爻 丌乇丕賲 鬲丕 爻丕賳 賮乇丕賳爻蹖爻讴賵禄貨 芦丿賵 - 爻丕賱 1936賲蹖賱丕丿蹖貙 讴賲亘乇蹖噩貙 卮丕賴讴丕乇 亘丿賳丕賲禄貨 芦爻賴 - 爻丕賱 1973賲蹖賱丕丿蹖 爻丕賳賮乇丕賳爻蹖爻讴賵貨 丨賯蹖賯鬲 倬乇 賴夭蹖賳賴禄貨 芦趩賴丕乇 - 爻丕賱 2012賲蹖賱丕丿蹖貙 賱賳丿賳貨 賯鬲賱蹖 鬲兀孬蹖乇 诏匕丕乇禄貨 芦倬賳噩 鈥� 爻丕賱 2144賲蹖賱丕丿蹖貙 爻卅賵賱貨 丕賳賯賱丕亘蹖 賲鬲賮丕賵鬲禄貨 芦卮卮 鈥� 蹖讴氐丿 賵 卮氐鬲 爻丕賱 倬爻 丕夭 倬丕蹖丕賳 丿賳蹖丕貨 丕蹖賳讴 丕禺乇 丕賱夭賲丕賳禄.貨
賳賯賱 丕夭 賲鬲賳: (乇賵夭賳賵卮鬲賴丕蹖 芦丌丿丕賲 丕賽賵蹖賳诏禄 丕夭 丕賯蹖丕賳賵爻 丌乇丕賲 噩賳賵亘蹖貙 倬賳噩卮賳亘賴貙 賴賮鬲 賳賵丕賲亘乇賭賭 丌賳爻賵蹖 丿賴讴丿賴颅 蹖 爻乇禺倬賵爻鬲丕賳貙 丿乇 爻丕丨賱蹖 賲鬲乇賵讴貙 亘賴 乇丿 倬丕賴丕蹖 噩丿蹖丿蹖 亘乇禺賵乇丿賲貨 丕夭 賲蹖丕賳 噩賱亘讴賴丕 賵 賳丕乇诏蹖賱賴丕蹖 丿乇蹖丕蹖蹖賽 诏賳丿蹖丿賴 賵 亘丕賲亘賵賴丕貙 乇丿倬丕賴丕 賲乇丕 亘賴 氐丕丨亘 禺賵丿 乇爻丕賳丿賳丿貨 賲乇丿蹖 爻賮蹖丿 倬賵爻鬲貙 亘丕 倬丕趩賴 賴丕 賵 丌爻鬲蹖賳賴丕蹖 鬲丕 禺賵乇丿賴貙 乇蹖卮蹖 賲乇鬲亘貙 賵 蹖讴 讴賱丕賴 禺夭 賮賵賯 颅丕賱毓丕丿賴 亘夭乇诏貨 亘丕 趩賳丕賳 丿賯鬲 賵 噩丿蹖鬲蹖 亘丕 蹖讴 賯丕卮賯 趩丕蹖颅禺賵乇蹖 賲卮睾賵賱 讴賳丿賳貙 賵 丕賱讴 讴乇丿賳 賲丕爻賴颅 蹖 禺丕讴爻鬲乇蹖 亘賵丿 讴賴 鬲丕 賵賯鬲蹖 丕夭 賮丕氐賱賴颅 蹖 丿賴 蹖丕乇丿蹖貙 亘賴 丕賵 爻賱丕賲 讴乇丿賲貙 賲鬲賵噩賴 丨囟賵乇賲 賳卮丿貨 丕蹖賳诏賵賳賴 亘賵丿 讴賴 亘丕 噩賳丕亘 芦丿讴鬲乇 賴賳乇蹖 诏賵爻禄貙 噩乇丕丨蹖 丕夭 賳噩亘丕蹖 賱賳丿賳 丌卮賳丕 卮丿賲貨 賲賱蹖鬲 丕賵 亘乇丕蹖賲 鬲毓噩亘 颅丌賵乇 賳亘賵丿貨 趩乇丕 讴賴 賴蹖趩 丌卮蹖丕賳賴颅 蹖 賲鬲乇賵讴 蹖丕 噩夭蹖乇賴颅 蹖 丿賵乇 丕賮鬲丕丿賴 颅丕蹖 賳蹖爻鬲 讴賴 倬丕蹖 蹖讴 丕賳诏賱蹖爻蹖 亘賴 丌賳 賳乇爻蹖丿賴 亘丕卮丿貙 丨鬲蹖 賳賯丕胤蹖 讴賴 乇賵蹖 賴蹖趩 賳賯卮賴颅 丕蹖 賯丕亘賱 賲卮丕賴丿賴 賳亘丕卮賳丿
丌蹖丕 噩賳丕亘 丿讴鬲乇 丿乇 丕蹖賳 爻丕丨賱 賳讴亘鬲颅亘丕乇 趩蹖夭蹖 诏賲 讴乇丿賴 亘賵丿賳丿責 丌蹖丕 賲賳 賲蹖颅鬲賵丕賳爻鬲賲 讴賲讴蹖 亘賴 丕蹖卮丕賳 亘讴賳賲責 芦丿讴鬲乇 诏賵爻禄 爻乇卮 乇丕 鬲讴丕賳 丿丕丿 賵 诏乇賴 丿爻鬲賲丕賱卮 乇丕 亘丕夭 讴乇丿 賵 亘丕 睾乇賵乇蹖 丌卮讴丕乇 賲丨鬲賵蹖丕鬲 丌賳 乇丕 賳卮丕賳 丿丕丿貨 芦丿賳丿丕賳貙 噩賳丕亘貙 丕蹖賳 噩丕賲賴丕蹖 賲蹖賳丕蹖蹖貙 賴丿賮 噩爻鬲噩賵蹖 亘賳丿賴 賴爻鬲賳丿貨 丿乇 爻丕賱蹖丕賳 诏匕卮鬲賴 丕蹖賳 讴乇丕賳賴 颅蹖 乇賵爻鬲丕蹖蹖 賲丨賱 爻賵乇趩乇丕賳蹖 丌丿賲禺賵丕乇丕賳 亘賵丿賴貙 亘賱賴貙 噩丕蹖蹖 讴賴 賯賵蹖颅鬲乇賴丕貙 囟毓蹖賮颅鬲乇賴丕 乇丕 賲蹖颅亘賱毓蹖丿賳丿貙 賵 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕 乇丕 亘賴 亘蹖乇賵賳 鬲賮 賲蹖颅讴乇丿賴颅 丕賳丿貙 賴賲丕賳胤賵乇 讴賴 噩賳丕亘毓丕賱蹖 蹖丕 亘賳丿賴 賴爻鬲賴颅 蹖 诏蹖賱丕爻 乇丕 鬲賮 賲蹖颅讴賳蹖賲貨 丕賲丕 丕蹖賳 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕蹖 丌爻蹖丕亘貙 丨囟乇鬲 丌賯丕貙 鬲亘丿蹖賱 亘賴 胤賱丕 禺賵丕賴丿 卮丿貨 趩胤賵乇責 蹖讴 氐賳毓鬲诏乇 禺蹖丕亘丕賳 倬蹖讴丕丿賱蹖 讴賴 亘乇丕蹖 賳噩蹖亘夭丕丿诏丕賳 丿賳丿丕賳 毓丕乇蹖賴 颅丕蹖 賲蹖颅爻丕貙夭丿 賲亘賱睾 爻禺丕賵鬲賲賳丿丕 賳賴颅丕蹖 亘乇丕蹖 丿賳丿賳 賴丕蹖 丕賳爻丕賳 賲蹖颅倬乇丿丕貨丿. 賲蹖颅丿丕賳蹖丿 亘丕 蹖讴 趩賴丕乇賲 倬賵賳丿 丕夭 丕蹖賳 丿賳丿賳 賴丕 趩賯丿乇 毓丕蹖丿賲 賲蹖颅卮賵丿貙 賯乇亘丕賳責禄貨
丕毓鬲乇丕賮 讴乇丿賲 讴賴 賳賲蹖颅丿丕賳賲
賲賳 賴賲 亘賴 卮賲丕 賳賲蹖颅诏賵蹖賲 賯乇亘丕賳貙 趩賵賳 讴賴 丕蹖賳 丕夭 丕爻乇丕乇 丨乇賮賴 丕颅爻鬲!禄 丿賲丕睾卮 乇丕 賲丕賱蹖丿貨 芦噩賳丕亘 丕賽賵蹖賳诏貙 卮賲丕 亘丕 夭賵噩賴 颅蹖 賲丕乇讴蹖夭 诏乇蹖爻 丕賴賱賽 賲賽蹖颅賮蹖乇 丌卮賳丕 賴爻鬲蹖丿責 禺蹖乇責 禺賵卮 亘賴 爻毓丕丿鬲丕賳貙 趩乇丕 讴賴 丕賵 賱丕卮賴 颅丕蹖颅爻鬲 丿乇 賱亘丕爻 夭賳丕賳賴貨 倬賳噩 爻丕賱 丕夭 賱讴賴 丿丕乇 卮丿賳 賳丕賲 賲賳 鬲賵爻胤 丕蹖賳 毓噩賵夭賴 颅蹖 賳丕亘讴丕乇 賲蹖颅诏匕乇丿貙 亘賱賴貙 趩蹖夭蹖 讴賴 賲賳噩乇 亘賴 鬲丨乇蹖賲 卮丿賳 賲賳 鬲賵爻胤 丕卮乇丕賮 卮丿貙禄 丿讴鬲乇 芦诏賵爻禄 賳诏丕賴卮 乇丕 亘賴 丿乇蹖丕 丿賵禺鬲
丌賵丕乇诏蹖 賲賳 丕夭 賴賲丕賳 爻丕毓鬲 卮賵賲 丌睾丕夭 卮丿
亘賴 丿讴鬲乇 诏賵爻 丕亘乇丕夭 賴賲丿乇丿蹖 讴乇丿賲
賲賲賳賵賳賲 賯乇亘丕賳貙 賲賲賳賵賳貙 丕賲丕 丕蹖賳 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕 -丿爻鬲賲丕賱卮 乇丕 鬲讴丕賳 丿丕丿- 芦賮乇卮鬲賴 賴丕颅蹖 乇爻鬲诏丕乇蹖 賲賳 颅丕賳丿貨 丕噩丕夭賴 丿賴蹖丿 鬲賵囟蹖丨 丿賴賲貨 夭賵噩賴颅 蹖 賲丕乇讴蹖夭 丕夭 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕蹖蹖 毓丕乇蹖賴 颅丕蹖 丕爻鬲賮丕丿賴 賲蹖颅讴賳丿貙 讴賴 倬夭卮讴 賲匕讴賵乇 丌賳賴丕 乇丕 賲蹖颅爻丕夭丿貨 讴乇蹖爻賲爻 亘毓丿貙 夭賲丕賳蹖 讴賴 丌賳 夭賳 丕丨賲賯 囟蹖丕賮鬲 賲噩賱賱卮 乇丕 亘丕 丨囟賵乇 爻乇丕賳 丨讴賵賲鬲蹖 賵 丕卮乇丕賮 鬲乇鬲蹖亘 丿賴丿貙 賲賳貙 賴賳乇蹖 诏賵爻貙 丕夭 噩丕蹖賲 亘乇禺賵丕賴賲 禺賵丕爻鬲 賵 亘賴 賴賲诏丕賳 丕毓賱丕賲 禺賵丕賴賲 讴乇丿 讴賴 賲蹖夭亘丕賳颅賲丕賳 亘丕 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕蹖 丌丿賲禺賵丕乇丕賳 賲卮睾賵賱 噩賵蹖丿賳 睾匕丕蹖卮 丕爻鬲! 賯丕亘賱 倬蹖卮 颅亘蹖賳蹖颅 丕爻鬲 讴賴 爻賽乇 賴賵亘丕乇鬲 亘丕 賲賳 亘賴 賲禺丕賱賮鬲 賲蹖颅倬乇丿丕夭丿貨 丌賳 丿賴丕鬲蹖 賮乇蹖丕丿 禺賵丕賴丿 讴卮蹖丿 芦卮賵丕賴丿鬲 乇丕 丕乇丕卅賴 讴賳貙 蹖丕 氐丿丕蹖鬲 乇丕 亘亘乇.禄 賲賳 禺賵丕賴賲 诏賮鬲: 芦卮賵丕賴丿貙 爻乇 賴賵亘丕乇鬲責 丌賴貙 賲賳 禺賵丿賲 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕蹖 賲丕丿乇鬲丕賳 乇丕 丕夭 蹖讴 爻賱賮颅丿丕賳蹖 丿乇 丕賯蹖丕賳賵爻 丌乇丕賲 噩賳賵亘蹖 噩賲毓 讴乇丿賲貨 丕蹖賳噩丕貙 賯乇亘丕賳貙 丕蹖賳 賴賲 鬲毓丿丕丿蹖 丕夭 乇賮賯丕蹖颅 丌賳賴丕! 賵 丿賳丿丕賳賴丕 乇丕 鬲賵蹖 馗乇賮 爻賵倬颅禺賵乇蹖 丌賳 夭賳 禺丕賱蹖 賲蹖颅讴賳賲貙 賵 丕蹖賳讴丕乇 丨囟乇鬲 丌賯丕 丌鬲卮 丕賳鬲賯丕賲賲 乇丕 賮乇賵 賲蹖颅賳卮丕賳丿! 亘匕賱賴颅 诏賵蹖丕賳 賲丕乇讴蹖夭賽 亘蹖乇賵丨 乇丕 丿乇 乇賵夭賳丕賲賴 賴丕蹖颅卮丕賳 亘賴 爻禺乇賴 禺賵丕賴賳丿 讴卮蹖丿 賵 鬲丕 蹖讴 賮氐賱 亘毓丿 丕賵 禺蹖賱蹖 禺賵卮 丕賯亘丕賱 禺賵丕賴丿 亘賵丿 丨鬲蹖 丕诏乇 亘賴 囟蹖丕賮鬲 賮賯乇丕 丿毓賵鬲 卮賵丿!禄貨
亘丕 毓噩賱賴 亘丕 賴賳乇蹖 诏賵爻 賵丿丕毓 讴乇丿賲. 禺蹖丕賱 賲蹖颅讴賳賲 丕賵 賲噩賳賵賳 亘丕卮丿
噩賲毓賴貙 賴卮鬲 賳賵丕賲亘乇- 丿乇 讴丕乇诏丕賴 讴卮鬲蹖 颅爻丕夭蹖 爻丕丿賴颅 蹖 夭蹖乇 倬賳噩乇賴颅颅 蹖 丕鬲丕賯賲貙 讴丕乇 爻丕禺鬲 鬲蹖乇 丿讴賱 讴卮鬲蹖 鬲丨鬲 賳馗丕乇鬲 噩賳丕亘 賵丕讴乇 丿乇 噩乇蹖丕賳 丕爻鬲貨 蹖诏丕賳賴 賲蹖禺丕賳賴 颅丿丕乇賽 丕購賵卮賳 亘賽蹖 讴賴 賴賲趩賳蹖賳 鬲丕噩乇賽 毓賲丿賴颅 蹖 丕賱賵丕乇 賳蹖夭 賴爻鬲 賵 丿乇 賲賵乇丿 爻丕賱賴丕 鬲噩乇亘賴颅 丕卮 亘賴 毓賳賵丕賳 蹖讴 丕爻鬲丕丿 讴卮鬲蹖 颅爻丕夭 丿乇 賱蹖賵乇倬賵賱 賱丕賮 賲蹖颅夭賳丿貨 (丌賳賯丿乇 丕夭 丌丿丕亘 賵 乇爻賵賲 丕蹖賳 賳賵丕丨蹖 爻乇賲 賲蹖颅卮賵丿 讴賴 亘鬲賵丕賳賲 趩賳蹖賳 丿乇賵睾 亘毓蹖丿蹖 乇丕 鬲卮禺蹖氐 丿賴賲.) 噩賳丕亘 丕賽爻讴丕蹖丿 亘賴 賲賳 诏賮鬲賳丿 讴賴 蹖讴 賴賮鬲賴颅 蹖 鬲賲丕賲 鬲丕 丕鬲賲丕賲 讴丕乇 賵 鬲丨賵蹖賱 芦倬乇丕賮賽鬲賽爻禄 亘丕賯蹖 賲丕賳丿賴貨 賴賮鬲 乇賵夭 丿蹖诏乇 爻乇 讴乇丿賳 丿乇 芦賲丕爻讴鬲禄貙 丨讴賲 卮賵賲蹖 亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖颅乇爻丿貙 亘丕 丕蹖賳 丨丕賱 賵賯鬲蹖 亘賴 蹖丕丿 賳蹖卮 賴賵賱賳丕讴 胤賵賮丕賳 賵 賲賱賵丕賳丕賳蹖 丕賮鬲丕丿賲 讴賴 丿乇 讴卮鬲蹖 丕夭 丿爻鬲 丿丕丿蹖賲貙 亘丿丕賯亘丕賱蹖 讴賳賵賳蹖颅 丿乇 賳馗乇賲 噩賱賵賴颅 丕卮 乇丕 丕夭 丿爻鬲 丿丕丿
丕賲乇賵夭 丿乇 倬賱讴丕賳 亘賴 丿讴鬲乇 诏賵爻 亘乇禺賵乇丿賲貙 賵 氐亘丨丕賳賴 乇丕 亘丕 賴賲 禺賵乇丿蹖賲貨 丕賵 丕夭 丕賵丕爻胤 丕讴鬲亘乇 丿乇 賲丕爻讴鬲 爻丕讴賳 丕爻鬲貨 蹖毓賳蹖 亘毓丿 丕夭 丕蹖賳 讴賴 亘丕 蹖讴 讴卮鬲蹖 鬲噩丕乇蹖 亘乇夭蹖賱蹖 亘賴 賳丕賲 芦賳丕賲賵乇丕丿賵爻禄 丕夭 賮蹖噩蹖 亘賴 丕蹖賳噩丕 丌賲丿賴貨 丿乇 賮蹖噩蹖 丕賵 亘賴 胤亘丕亘鬲 賲卮睾賵賱 亘賵丿賴 賵 丨丕賱丕 賴賲 賲賳鬲馗乇 乇爻蹖丿賳 蹖讴 讴卮鬲蹖 卮讴丕乇 爻蹖賱 丕爻鬲乇丕賱蹖丕蹖蹖 亘丕 賳丕賲 芦賳賽賱蹖禄 丕颅爻鬲 讴賴 賲丿鬲賴丕 丕夭 賲賵毓丿 丌賲丿賳卮 賲蹖颅诏匕乇丿貙 賵 賲蹖颅禺賵丕賴丿 亘丕 丌賳 亘賴 爻蹖丿賳蹖 亘乇賵丿貨 丕夭 賲爻鬲毓賲乇賴 賴賲 亘丕 蹖讴 讴卮鬲蹖 賲爻丕賮乇亘乇蹖 禺賵丿 乇丕 亘賴 夭丕丿诏丕賴卮 賱賳丿賳 賲蹖乇爻丕賳丿
賯囟丕賵鬲 賲賳 丿乇亘丕乇賴颅 蹖 丿讴鬲乇 诏賵爻 毓噩賵賱丕賳賴 賵 睾蹖乇賲賳氐賮丕賳賴 亘賵丿貨 丿乇 丨乇賮賴颅 蹖 賲賳 丌丿賲 亘丕蹖丿 賴賲趩賵賳 丿蹖賵跇賳貙 亘丿亘蹖賳 賵 讴賱亘蹖 賲爻賱讴 亘丕卮丿貙 丕賲丕 讴賱亘蹖 賲爻賱讴 亘賵丿賳 賴賲 賲蹖颅鬲賵丕賳丿 趩卮賲 丌丿賲 乇丕 亘賴 乇賵蹖 禺氐賵氐蹖丕鬲 馗乇蹖賮颅鬲乇 亘亘賳丿丿貨 丿讴鬲乇 睾乇丕亘鬲賴丕蹖 禺丕氐 禺賵丿 乇丕 丿丕乇丿 賵 鬲賳賴丕 亘丕 蹖讴 噩乇毓賴 倬蹖爻讴賵蹖 倬乇鬲睾丕賱蹖 (夭蹖丕丿賴颅 乇賵蹖 賳賲蹖颅讴賳丿)貙 鬲讴 鬲讴 丌賳賴丕 乇丕 亘乇賲蹖颅卮賲乇丿貙 丕賲丕 囟賲丕賳鬲 賲蹖颅丿賴賲 讴賴 丕賵 亘丕蹖丿 蹖诏丕賳賴 賳噩蹖亘颅夭丕丿賴颅 蹖 丿蹖诏乇 丿乇 毓乇囟 噩睾乇丕賮蹖丕蹖蹖 卮乇賯 爻蹖丿賳蹖 賵 睾乇亘 賵丕賱倬乇蹖爻賵 亘丕卮丿貨 卮丕蹖丿 丨鬲蹖 亘乇丕蹖颅丕卮 賲毓乇賮蹖颅賳丕賲賴颅 丕蹖 亘賴 禺丕賳賵丕丿賴颅 蹖 倬丕鬲乇蹖噩颅 丿乇 爻蹖丿賳蹖 亘賳賵蹖爻賲貙 趩乇丕 讴賴 丿讴鬲乇 诏賵爻 賵 賮乇丿 毓夭蹖夭 賴乇 丿賵 丕夭 蹖讴 賯賲丕卮 颅丕賳丿
賴賵丕蹖 賳丕賲爻丕毓丿 賲丕賳毓 丕夭 诏乇丿卮 氐亘丨颅诏丕賴蹖 颅丕賲 卮丿貙 讴賳丕乇 丌鬲卮 亘賴 丕賮爻丕賳賴颅 爻乇丕蹖蹖 賳卮爻鬲蹖賲 賵 爻丕毓鬲賴丕 亘乇丕蹖颅賲丕賳 賴賲趩賵賳 丿賯丕蹖賯蹖 诏匕卮鬲貨 亘乇丕蹖 丕賵 賲賮氐賱丕 丕夭 鬲蹖賱丿丕 賵 噩讴爻賵賳 诏賮鬲賲 賵 丕夭 賵丨卮鬲賲 丿乇亘丕乇賴颅颅 蹖 芦鬲亘 胤賱丕禄 丿乇 爻丕賳賮乇丕賳爻蹖爻讴賵 氐丨亘鬲 讴乇丿賲貨 爻倬爻 诏賮鬲诏賵蹖颅賲丕賳 亘賴 卮賴乇 賲丨賱 爻讴賵賳鬲 賲賳 讴卮蹖丿 賵 亘毓丿 賴賲 丿乇 賲賵乇丿 诏蹖亘賵賳 賵 诏賵丿賵蹖賳 賵 丕賳诏賱賴丕 賵 賱賵讴賵賲賵鬲賵 賴丕 氐丨亘鬲 讴乇丿貨賲. 蹖讴 賲丨丕賵乇賴颅 蹖 诏乇賲 趩蹖夭蹖颅爻鬲 讴賴 亘賴 卮丿鬲 丿乇 毓乇卮賴颅 蹖 倬乇丕賮賽鬲賽爻 丕夭 丌賳 賲丨乇賵賲 亘賵丿賲貙 賵 丿讴鬲乇 賴賲 亘賴 鬲丨賯蹖賯 丌丿賲 賴賲賴 趩蹖夭 丿丕賳 賵 賮賴賲蹖丿賴 颅丕蹖颅爻鬲貨 亘賴 毓賱丕賵賴 丕賵 丕乇鬲卮蹖 丕夭 賲賴乇賴 賴丕蹖 丨讴丕讴蹖 卮丿賴 卮胤乇賳噩颅 丿丕乇丿貙 讴賴 鬲丕 毓夭蹖賲鬲 倬乇丕賮賽鬲賽爻 蹖丕 賵乇賵丿 賳賽賱蹖 賲丕 乇丕 爻乇诏乇賲 賳诏丕賴 禺賵丕賴賳丿 丿丕卮鬲)貨 倬丕蹖丕賳 賳賯賱
鬲丕乇蹖禺 亘賴賳诏丕賲 乇爻丕賳蹖 11/08/1399賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 10/06/1400賴噩乇蹖 禺賵乇卮蹖丿蹖貨 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
August 23, 2015
pile story atop story, set 'em in different time periods, offer up a thin connection between each, and everything seems a bit more than it is. for me cloud atlas is exactly the sum of its parts. maybe less? (i'd love to hire 6 authors to independently write 6 stories set in different time periods, throw the whole mess together as one work, and watch people find all kinds of connections and deeper meanings. they would. they could.)
now don't get me wrong, i love all that 'russian doll' tale-within-a-tale borgesian-wormhole fuckoff, but the fact remains: all that clever stuff is worthless if not in service of a few well told tales (or some seriously innovative ideas: while mitchell has fun with a clever structure, there ain't nothing innovative here. see: borges, calvino, dick, joyce, etc). and this is where mitchell falters. a trite story about corporate intrigue? post-apocalyptic 'primitives' scavenging through the ruins of our time? sci-fi story about an 'almost human' finding her (more than) humanity in a futuristic corpocracy? a 'misunderstanding' gag right out of three's company to resolve frobisher's tale? impossible to unring a bell, but would it were, i'd challenge any five-starrer to jump back & read these stories as standalones: they're weak. and, no: the thread holding 'em all together just ain't enough to elevate five mediocres to one great. if you're gonna throw out some of that 'deliberately cliched' nonsense, back it up. 100 yrs earlier mr. joyce included a deliberately poorly written chapter in ulysses鈥� with reason. am i overlooking something, oh legions of mitchell devotees? if so, dish. admitting the luisa rey chapter is shite but explaining that it was meant to be shite just don't cut it.
david foster wallace complained that television had become impossible to critique in that it critiques itself: i.e. those t.v. ads, 'don't just sit there. okay, just sit there.' it betrays enormous & self-aware insecurity on the part of the 'television people': rather than polish the turd, they joke about how turdish the turd really is. and, by extension, what a willing turd-swallower YOU are. but it's all good as it's in the guise of a fun, knowing riff on the (hyper)truth, ain't it? well, mitchell employs similar trickery. authorial dogwhistles blow all over the place in the guise of postmodern 4th-wall-breaking innovation. and i call fraud. loudly. if borges ever asked and/or apologized to the reader about a story rather than get that story in top-fucking-notch shape鈥� i'd slap that blind bastard across his jowly cheeks. (and, yes, this kinda stuff can work if it was more the point, a kind of Greek Chorus commenting on the narrative; but as a few asides drawing the reader out & excusing the text? oh, just fuckoff.) when one character writes this about his musical composition:
鈥漚 sextet for overlapping soloists鈥濃€�.each in its own language of key, scale, and color. In the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor: in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order. Revolutionary or gimmicky?
i wanted to kick mr. mitchell in the shins.
if ya wanna read a less middlebrow & mediocre tale of reincarnated lives told over different periods of history in which our protagonists are linked by a common birthmark (no, really. the same birthmark gag. i'm not shitting you)鈥� check out mishima's 'Sea of Fertility' tetralogy*.
a. hemon's article in the the new yorker on the making of the movie makes me root for it, but i predict a maudlin & turgid turd of epic proportions.
* Spring Snow
Runaway Horses
The Temple of Dawn
The Decay of the Angel
(read 'em!)
now don't get me wrong, i love all that 'russian doll' tale-within-a-tale borgesian-wormhole fuckoff, but the fact remains: all that clever stuff is worthless if not in service of a few well told tales (or some seriously innovative ideas: while mitchell has fun with a clever structure, there ain't nothing innovative here. see: borges, calvino, dick, joyce, etc). and this is where mitchell falters. a trite story about corporate intrigue? post-apocalyptic 'primitives' scavenging through the ruins of our time? sci-fi story about an 'almost human' finding her (more than) humanity in a futuristic corpocracy? a 'misunderstanding' gag right out of three's company to resolve frobisher's tale? impossible to unring a bell, but would it were, i'd challenge any five-starrer to jump back & read these stories as standalones: they're weak. and, no: the thread holding 'em all together just ain't enough to elevate five mediocres to one great. if you're gonna throw out some of that 'deliberately cliched' nonsense, back it up. 100 yrs earlier mr. joyce included a deliberately poorly written chapter in ulysses鈥� with reason. am i overlooking something, oh legions of mitchell devotees? if so, dish. admitting the luisa rey chapter is shite but explaining that it was meant to be shite just don't cut it.
david foster wallace complained that television had become impossible to critique in that it critiques itself: i.e. those t.v. ads, 'don't just sit there. okay, just sit there.' it betrays enormous & self-aware insecurity on the part of the 'television people': rather than polish the turd, they joke about how turdish the turd really is. and, by extension, what a willing turd-swallower YOU are. but it's all good as it's in the guise of a fun, knowing riff on the (hyper)truth, ain't it? well, mitchell employs similar trickery. authorial dogwhistles blow all over the place in the guise of postmodern 4th-wall-breaking innovation. and i call fraud. loudly. if borges ever asked and/or apologized to the reader about a story rather than get that story in top-fucking-notch shape鈥� i'd slap that blind bastard across his jowly cheeks. (and, yes, this kinda stuff can work if it was more the point, a kind of Greek Chorus commenting on the narrative; but as a few asides drawing the reader out & excusing the text? oh, just fuckoff.) when one character writes this about his musical composition:
鈥漚 sextet for overlapping soloists鈥濃€�.each in its own language of key, scale, and color. In the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor: in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order. Revolutionary or gimmicky?
i wanted to kick mr. mitchell in the shins.
if ya wanna read a less middlebrow & mediocre tale of reincarnated lives told over different periods of history in which our protagonists are linked by a common birthmark (no, really. the same birthmark gag. i'm not shitting you)鈥� check out mishima's 'Sea of Fertility' tetralogy*.
a. hemon's article in the the new yorker on the making of the movie makes me root for it, but i predict a maudlin & turgid turd of epic proportions.
* Spring Snow
Runaway Horses
The Temple of Dawn
The Decay of the Angel
(read 'em!)
October 6, 2020
Hey readers...
Look at the book you're reading...
...now back to me.
Now back at the book you're reading...
...now back at me.
Sadly, that book was (probably) not written by me. But if you'd check out my book, Cloud Atlas, you'd know that I could have written it if I just wanted to. Look back at the book...
...and now back up. Who's that?
That's me, the author of Cloud Atlas, which is the book you could have been reading. What's in your hand?
It's Cloud Atlas, which is a historical novel about a pacific voyage all the way back in the 1800's. Back at me.
Now back at Cloud Atlas. Look, it's now a thriller.
And look again. Cloud Atlas is now science fiction.
Anything is possible when a book contains several stories inside...
...and I am the author.
Cloud Atlas is arguably David Mitchell's (all right, I'll stop pretending - that's him in the pictures) most famous novel - and if it isn't, it certailnly will be after the Wachowskis will turn it into a big budged movie - the trailer is . The novel itself is critically acclaimed - it won the British Book Awards Literary Fiction Award, and was shortlisted for the Booker Prize and even nominated for two of the prestigious awards given to works of science fiction - the Nebula and Arthur C. Clarke award.
So what should we, the readers, make of Cloud Atlas? By now, probably everyone interested in reading it has heard that it's composed of six different storylines, all of which interact with each other in some way. The single most impressive thing about the novel is the fact that the author adapts a unique narrative voice for each of these sections, making Cloud Atlas a feat of literary ventriloquism. The six storylines are also different in structure, setting and timelines.
The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing opens the novel: set around 1850, the journal is a first person account of a south Pacific journey of the naive Adam Ewing, who finds himself ashore on the Chattam Islands near New Zealand. He falls sick, and seeks help from a suspicious doctor who looks at his money with hungry eyes, and also learns a bit of the native history: the enslavement of the Moriori by the Maori.
Letters from Zedelghem is the next sequence, and as the title suggests it's epistolary. The titular letters are written by Robert Frobisher to Rufus Sixmith. Frobisher is a completely broke English musician who buys his daily bread by being a hired hand for a Belgian composer - Ayrs. Despite the implications that Sixmith is his lover, Frobisher starts an affair with Ayr's wife and it does not help that Ayrs also has a young daughter.
Half-Lives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery is the next section which tells the tale of Louisa Rey, a journalist who follows the lead that some nuclear plants are unsafe and can blow up the world: of course there are people who do not wish for this information to be made public. Dressed up as a thriller, it is definitely the most fast paced section of the novel and does a convincig job at passing as a grocery store rack paperback novel.
The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish is probably my favorite section: 65 year old Timothy Cavendish is a vanity publisher who gets himself into trouble with one of his clients (who happens to be a gangster) and has to lay low for a while; His brother arranges a safe place for him to go to. Only when he arrives he discovers that the hideaway is a nursing home; Cavendish is an extremely likeable old codger and lots of hilarity ensues as he attempts to break free. It gets downhill from here.
An Orison of Sonmi~451 is the least inspired section: a derivative dystopian fare, totally by the book. Overused dystopian tropes abound: Far future, immensely opressive totalitarian society, corporate overlords, genetically engingered slaves (cannibalism!), neologisms and simple spelling changes such as "xcitement, xpendable, xtra". etc. To top the cake it is set in futuristic Korea, complete with "the Beloved Chairman" who is in control of All Things. Not very, um, subtle, you know.
Sloosha's Crossin' an' Ev'rythin' After or Trainspotting in Space continues with the science fiction theme, and is set in post-apocalyptic Hawaii. Humanity has been almost completely wiped out during "The Fall". Zachry, the protagonist, is an old man recounting his teenage years, when he met Meronym, a member of a former advanced civilization. The section overuses apostrophes to an almost ridiculous extent, making me regret ever complaining about the simplicity of spelling changes in the Somni section. The style hangs over the content unmercifully, like a sharp sword, ready to drop at any moment to cut your reading enjoyment - and does exactly that, all the time.
After Slosha we return to the preceding stories yet again, this time in the reverse order, going back in time: Beginning with futuristic tale of Somni and ending with the concluding entries of the journal of Adam Ewing, in the 1850's.
So what is the big deal? The structure. On the back cover is Michael Chabon's appraisal of the novel as "series of nested dolls or Chinese boxes, a puzzle-book" and as the Wachowski's boldly emphasize in all caps in the trailer for the upcoming film, "EVERYTHING IS CONNECTED". However, I found these connections to be sketchy at best: For example, Ewing's journal is conveniently found by Frobisher at a bookshelf of his Belgian employer; Rufus Sixmith, the addressee of Frobisher's letters just happens to be a whistleblower collaborating with Louisa Rey; Louisa Rey's story is a manuscript that Cavendish is offered for publication; Cavendish's goofy adventure is a Disney romp watched by Somni in the far future, and Somni herself is a goddess worshipped by Zachry, who knows her story from a futuristic recording device. There are further attempts to stitch these stories together - a recurring birthmark, one character seemingly remembering a piece of music from another time, the recurrence of the number six - six stories, a character named...Sixmith who is...66 years old, etc. If the "nested dolls" analogy passed you by, the author has Isaac Sachs, an engineer (how appropriate!) explain the magic:
"鈥淥ne model of time: an infinite matryoshka doll of painted moments, each 鈥榮hell鈥� (the present) encased inside a nest of 鈥榮hells鈥� (previous presents) I call the actual past but which we perceive as the virtual past. The doll of 鈥榥ow鈥� likewise encases a nest of presents yet to be, which I call the actual future but which we perceive as the virtual future.鈥�"
But that is not all. Frobisher's musical masterpiece to be is called The Cloud Atlas Sextet, which he describes as:
"a 'sextet for overlapping soloists': piano, clarinet, 'cello, flute, oboe, and violin, each in its own language of key, scale, and color. In the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor; in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order."
...which is obviously how Cloud Atlas, the novel, is structured. It seems to me as if the author did not trust his readers and had to spell out his game in fear of being misunderstood, or worse: the trick going unnoticed. He also seems to see critics coming, and in the next sentence Frobisher thinks about his work: "Revolutionary or gimmicky? Shan't know until it's finished, and by then it'll be too late.鈥�" The concept is laid out for the reader in its entirety at one moment: . Sometimes it's done in an almost humorous way: Timothy Cavendish mutters that "Soylent Green is people", and that some geeks must be "Cloning humans for shady Koreans" - which is exactly what happens in the Somni section.
Revolutionary or Gimmicky? For this jury Cloud Atlas does not have what it takes to be revolutionary, meaning something...well, revolutionary. The structure of the novel appears to be complex at the first glance, but during actual reading shows itself as not overly complex, and the author makes sure that the reader will understand it. The stories themselves are not strong enough to stand on their own: the Louisa Rey mystery is intentionally bland, but the Orison of Somni 451 is formulaic to the bone, where all characters are reduced to familiar stereotypes: The tyranical Big Brother regime and the opressed sentient beings who should not be capable of complex thought but are, which dates back to Yevgeny Zamyatin's brillian novel , which has been written in...1921, going through more famous examples - , , movies such as the original Planet of the Apes, THX1138, etc etc etc. To give the author credit the dystopian formula has been firmly estabilished (and exploited - currently especially on the young adult market) and it's quite difficult (if not downright impossible) to come up with any innovations: especially if there's a set limit on the lenght of the piece which hardly allows for any worldbuilding, forcing the author to work with the barest minimum.
The recurring theme ofCloud Atlas is enslavement and exploitation of human beings. Ewing is exposed to enslavement of one tribe by another and is forced to decide the fate of a person; penniless Frobisher is forced to leave England for Belgium, where he is drawn into a net cast by an aging composer, who wants to exploit his talent; Louisa Rey is fighting the capitalist ubermench who do not care about the dangers of a nuclear reactor. Tinmothy Cavendish has to escape from dangerous people and literally becomes enslaved in a home for the elderly; Sonmi is a genetically enginereed fabricant who was made to be used. Throughout the ages, the weaker are controlled, abused and exploited by the stronger, who want even more riches and strenght.
is it a new topic? No. Does Cloud Atlas offer a new look at it? alas, the answer also has to be no. The book opposes the notion of survival of the fittest, where "the weak are the meat that the strong eat" - and this is obviously wrong. But in the year 2004 (when it was published) did we not know that already? The dangers of capitalism and the money-oriented western civilization, its contemporary face being the Louisa Rey sections and the gloomy vision of the future shown in the Orison of Somni; the post-colonial white guilt for which the vessel is the character of Adam Ewing. Adam Ewing seems to exist to only espouse this notion; after being rescued by a Noble Savage he is told about the bloodthirst of the White Race by the Doctor (who is the Evil character since this is how he was estabilished to be). The morality play hits home and Ewing decides that the way the world is is Wrong and there is worth in striving for a seemingly impossible Change where everyone is Free. This storyline is not bad by default, but it is hardly original and there is hardly any place for ambiguity; I was surprised at the comparisons with , which is probably my favorite work by Melville (along with the brilliant - which is also about individualism and freedom, but in a completely different manner). The genius of Melville's work lies in its ambiguity: it has been praised and criticized because of it, as various readers read it either as a racist work in support of slavery, while other readers read it as an anti-slavery text in support of abolition. There is little if any of this in Adam Ewing's journal; of course it's wrong to own another human being as property, and most of the humanity came to agree on this...after we stole land from one another and replaced their people with ours, colonized and governed them against their will and exploited them in slave labor. Melville's work was written in 1856, when abolition was a controversial (and dangerous) issue; even though Adam Ewing's journal is set in that time period, we can't forget that it was created in the 2000's. There is not enough originality or exceptionality to it, and solely by attempting to stress the human freedom it borders dangerously on the banal repetition of something done earlier and better.
The author is at his best in the narratives of Frobisher and Cavendish, where he handles two drastically different characters with skill and verve. Both are Englishmen, though of different times and of different age and profession: Frobisher is young, cynical, cunning, brash and unapologetic; Cavendish is elderly, sheepish, slow and silly. It is in these two narratives where the author's talent really shines; he writes with panache and flamboyance, and his whimsical humor is contrasted with rawness and emotion. Frobisher's egoism and frustration are off-putting, and yet the reader cannot help but feel some sympathy for his character and wish him good in creating the work of his life; Cavendish's geriatric adventure is surprisingly rollicking and full of charm. It is their stories which work the best in this book, and are the most affecting and memorable.
On the whole, Cloud Atlas reads more as an exercise in trying to write stories in different genres and styles, and then weaving them together; ultimately, it does not really work. The majority of the stories are not strong enough to stand on their own, and there is not enough to bind them together; even the two stories I enjoyed suffer from being just a part of the whole which doesn't really work. It lacks the profundity and depth it needs to be an important work; a more vicious critic would say that the author arranged his stories like matryoshkas to hide his inability to offer meaningful and perceptive insights into the human nature. I doubt that Cloud Atlas is such a case, and because of this I can't wish it would have been all that it was said to be, profound and meaningful, offering a fresh approach to the subject which is so important. But what can you say about things on which so many said so much over the centuries? Like clouds, Cloud Atlas eventually disperses, leaving in memory snapshots of its elements, and not the whole.
Look at the book you're reading...
...now back to me.
Now back at the book you're reading...
...now back at me.
Sadly, that book was (probably) not written by me. But if you'd check out my book, Cloud Atlas, you'd know that I could have written it if I just wanted to. Look back at the book...
...and now back up. Who's that?
That's me, the author of Cloud Atlas, which is the book you could have been reading. What's in your hand?
It's Cloud Atlas, which is a historical novel about a pacific voyage all the way back in the 1800's. Back at me.
Now back at Cloud Atlas. Look, it's now a thriller.
And look again. Cloud Atlas is now science fiction.
Anything is possible when a book contains several stories inside...
...and I am the author.
Cloud Atlas is arguably David Mitchell's (all right, I'll stop pretending - that's him in the pictures) most famous novel - and if it isn't, it certailnly will be after the Wachowskis will turn it into a big budged movie - the trailer is . The novel itself is critically acclaimed - it won the British Book Awards Literary Fiction Award, and was shortlisted for the Booker Prize and even nominated for two of the prestigious awards given to works of science fiction - the Nebula and Arthur C. Clarke award.
So what should we, the readers, make of Cloud Atlas? By now, probably everyone interested in reading it has heard that it's composed of six different storylines, all of which interact with each other in some way. The single most impressive thing about the novel is the fact that the author adapts a unique narrative voice for each of these sections, making Cloud Atlas a feat of literary ventriloquism. The six storylines are also different in structure, setting and timelines.
The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing opens the novel: set around 1850, the journal is a first person account of a south Pacific journey of the naive Adam Ewing, who finds himself ashore on the Chattam Islands near New Zealand. He falls sick, and seeks help from a suspicious doctor who looks at his money with hungry eyes, and also learns a bit of the native history: the enslavement of the Moriori by the Maori.
Letters from Zedelghem is the next sequence, and as the title suggests it's epistolary. The titular letters are written by Robert Frobisher to Rufus Sixmith. Frobisher is a completely broke English musician who buys his daily bread by being a hired hand for a Belgian composer - Ayrs. Despite the implications that Sixmith is his lover, Frobisher starts an affair with Ayr's wife and it does not help that Ayrs also has a young daughter.
Half-Lives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery is the next section which tells the tale of Louisa Rey, a journalist who follows the lead that some nuclear plants are unsafe and can blow up the world: of course there are people who do not wish for this information to be made public. Dressed up as a thriller, it is definitely the most fast paced section of the novel and does a convincig job at passing as a grocery store rack paperback novel.
The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish is probably my favorite section: 65 year old Timothy Cavendish is a vanity publisher who gets himself into trouble with one of his clients (who happens to be a gangster) and has to lay low for a while; His brother arranges a safe place for him to go to. Only when he arrives he discovers that the hideaway is a nursing home; Cavendish is an extremely likeable old codger and lots of hilarity ensues as he attempts to break free. It gets downhill from here.
An Orison of Sonmi~451 is the least inspired section: a derivative dystopian fare, totally by the book. Overused dystopian tropes abound: Far future, immensely opressive totalitarian society, corporate overlords, genetically engingered slaves (cannibalism!), neologisms and simple spelling changes such as "xcitement, xpendable, xtra". etc. To top the cake it is set in futuristic Korea, complete with "the Beloved Chairman" who is in control of All Things. Not very, um, subtle, you know.
Sloosha's Crossin' an' Ev'rythin' After or Trainspotting in Space continues with the science fiction theme, and is set in post-apocalyptic Hawaii. Humanity has been almost completely wiped out during "The Fall". Zachry, the protagonist, is an old man recounting his teenage years, when he met Meronym, a member of a former advanced civilization. The section overuses apostrophes to an almost ridiculous extent, making me regret ever complaining about the simplicity of spelling changes in the Somni section. The style hangs over the content unmercifully, like a sharp sword, ready to drop at any moment to cut your reading enjoyment - and does exactly that, all the time.
After Slosha we return to the preceding stories yet again, this time in the reverse order, going back in time: Beginning with futuristic tale of Somni and ending with the concluding entries of the journal of Adam Ewing, in the 1850's.
So what is the big deal? The structure. On the back cover is Michael Chabon's appraisal of the novel as "series of nested dolls or Chinese boxes, a puzzle-book" and as the Wachowski's boldly emphasize in all caps in the trailer for the upcoming film, "EVERYTHING IS CONNECTED". However, I found these connections to be sketchy at best: For example, Ewing's journal is conveniently found by Frobisher at a bookshelf of his Belgian employer; Rufus Sixmith, the addressee of Frobisher's letters just happens to be a whistleblower collaborating with Louisa Rey; Louisa Rey's story is a manuscript that Cavendish is offered for publication; Cavendish's goofy adventure is a Disney romp watched by Somni in the far future, and Somni herself is a goddess worshipped by Zachry, who knows her story from a futuristic recording device. There are further attempts to stitch these stories together - a recurring birthmark, one character seemingly remembering a piece of music from another time, the recurrence of the number six - six stories, a character named...Sixmith who is...66 years old, etc. If the "nested dolls" analogy passed you by, the author has Isaac Sachs, an engineer (how appropriate!) explain the magic:
"鈥淥ne model of time: an infinite matryoshka doll of painted moments, each 鈥榮hell鈥� (the present) encased inside a nest of 鈥榮hells鈥� (previous presents) I call the actual past but which we perceive as the virtual past. The doll of 鈥榥ow鈥� likewise encases a nest of presents yet to be, which I call the actual future but which we perceive as the virtual future.鈥�"
But that is not all. Frobisher's musical masterpiece to be is called The Cloud Atlas Sextet, which he describes as:
"a 'sextet for overlapping soloists': piano, clarinet, 'cello, flute, oboe, and violin, each in its own language of key, scale, and color. In the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor; in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order."
...which is obviously how Cloud Atlas, the novel, is structured. It seems to me as if the author did not trust his readers and had to spell out his game in fear of being misunderstood, or worse: the trick going unnoticed. He also seems to see critics coming, and in the next sentence Frobisher thinks about his work: "Revolutionary or gimmicky? Shan't know until it's finished, and by then it'll be too late.鈥�" The concept is laid out for the reader in its entirety at one moment: . Sometimes it's done in an almost humorous way: Timothy Cavendish mutters that "Soylent Green is people", and that some geeks must be "Cloning humans for shady Koreans" - which is exactly what happens in the Somni section.
Revolutionary or Gimmicky? For this jury Cloud Atlas does not have what it takes to be revolutionary, meaning something...well, revolutionary. The structure of the novel appears to be complex at the first glance, but during actual reading shows itself as not overly complex, and the author makes sure that the reader will understand it. The stories themselves are not strong enough to stand on their own: the Louisa Rey mystery is intentionally bland, but the Orison of Somni 451 is formulaic to the bone, where all characters are reduced to familiar stereotypes: The tyranical Big Brother regime and the opressed sentient beings who should not be capable of complex thought but are, which dates back to Yevgeny Zamyatin's brillian novel , which has been written in...1921, going through more famous examples - , , movies such as the original Planet of the Apes, THX1138, etc etc etc. To give the author credit the dystopian formula has been firmly estabilished (and exploited - currently especially on the young adult market) and it's quite difficult (if not downright impossible) to come up with any innovations: especially if there's a set limit on the lenght of the piece which hardly allows for any worldbuilding, forcing the author to work with the barest minimum.
The recurring theme ofCloud Atlas is enslavement and exploitation of human beings. Ewing is exposed to enslavement of one tribe by another and is forced to decide the fate of a person; penniless Frobisher is forced to leave England for Belgium, where he is drawn into a net cast by an aging composer, who wants to exploit his talent; Louisa Rey is fighting the capitalist ubermench who do not care about the dangers of a nuclear reactor. Tinmothy Cavendish has to escape from dangerous people and literally becomes enslaved in a home for the elderly; Sonmi is a genetically enginereed fabricant who was made to be used. Throughout the ages, the weaker are controlled, abused and exploited by the stronger, who want even more riches and strenght.
is it a new topic? No. Does Cloud Atlas offer a new look at it? alas, the answer also has to be no. The book opposes the notion of survival of the fittest, where "the weak are the meat that the strong eat" - and this is obviously wrong. But in the year 2004 (when it was published) did we not know that already? The dangers of capitalism and the money-oriented western civilization, its contemporary face being the Louisa Rey sections and the gloomy vision of the future shown in the Orison of Somni; the post-colonial white guilt for which the vessel is the character of Adam Ewing. Adam Ewing seems to exist to only espouse this notion; after being rescued by a Noble Savage he is told about the bloodthirst of the White Race by the Doctor (who is the Evil character since this is how he was estabilished to be). The morality play hits home and Ewing decides that the way the world is is Wrong and there is worth in striving for a seemingly impossible Change where everyone is Free. This storyline is not bad by default, but it is hardly original and there is hardly any place for ambiguity; I was surprised at the comparisons with , which is probably my favorite work by Melville (along with the brilliant - which is also about individualism and freedom, but in a completely different manner). The genius of Melville's work lies in its ambiguity: it has been praised and criticized because of it, as various readers read it either as a racist work in support of slavery, while other readers read it as an anti-slavery text in support of abolition. There is little if any of this in Adam Ewing's journal; of course it's wrong to own another human being as property, and most of the humanity came to agree on this...after we stole land from one another and replaced their people with ours, colonized and governed them against their will and exploited them in slave labor. Melville's work was written in 1856, when abolition was a controversial (and dangerous) issue; even though Adam Ewing's journal is set in that time period, we can't forget that it was created in the 2000's. There is not enough originality or exceptionality to it, and solely by attempting to stress the human freedom it borders dangerously on the banal repetition of something done earlier and better.
The author is at his best in the narratives of Frobisher and Cavendish, where he handles two drastically different characters with skill and verve. Both are Englishmen, though of different times and of different age and profession: Frobisher is young, cynical, cunning, brash and unapologetic; Cavendish is elderly, sheepish, slow and silly. It is in these two narratives where the author's talent really shines; he writes with panache and flamboyance, and his whimsical humor is contrasted with rawness and emotion. Frobisher's egoism and frustration are off-putting, and yet the reader cannot help but feel some sympathy for his character and wish him good in creating the work of his life; Cavendish's geriatric adventure is surprisingly rollicking and full of charm. It is their stories which work the best in this book, and are the most affecting and memorable.
On the whole, Cloud Atlas reads more as an exercise in trying to write stories in different genres and styles, and then weaving them together; ultimately, it does not really work. The majority of the stories are not strong enough to stand on their own, and there is not enough to bind them together; even the two stories I enjoyed suffer from being just a part of the whole which doesn't really work. It lacks the profundity and depth it needs to be an important work; a more vicious critic would say that the author arranged his stories like matryoshkas to hide his inability to offer meaningful and perceptive insights into the human nature. I doubt that Cloud Atlas is such a case, and because of this I can't wish it would have been all that it was said to be, profound and meaningful, offering a fresh approach to the subject which is so important. But what can you say about things on which so many said so much over the centuries? Like clouds, Cloud Atlas eventually disperses, leaving in memory snapshots of its elements, and not the whole.
October 4, 2012
Cloud Atlas is a book which is not particularly easy to read, requires patience and perseverance, but is ultimately very rewarding. It is a story spanning more than one hundred years that combines an entertaining - even humourous - plot with far bigger and more important issues like slavery and exploitation. The novel's language changes and develops with time and every new character introduced is as fresh and interesting as all those who came before. In the end, it is pure genius. It is also not a novel that I can adequately put into any kind of review, so I suggest instead that you watch this beautiful trailer created for the 2012 film adaptation - it convinced me to read it, after all:
October 31, 2015
This is definitely a book that is richer with rereading, but I still prefer his "Ghostwritten" (), which has significant echoes of this.
STRUCTURE
It鈥檚 often described as a matryoshka doll or a turducken, but that鈥檚 not the best analogy, imo.
Imagine six very different short books, each open at roughly the middle, then pile them up - and that is the structure of Cloud Atlas (story 1a, 2a, 3a, 4a, 5a, 6, 5b, 4b, 3b, 2b, 1b). The structure is echoed in this clever and very brief review:....
This is a close lifting of what Calvino describes in If on a Winter's Night a Traveler: "the Oriental tradition" where one story stops "at the moment of greatest suspense" and then narrative switches to another story, perhaps by the protagonist picking up a book and reading it.
(The structure of the film is entirely different: it cuts between all six stories repeatedly, which emphasises the parallels in the different stories. In the medium of film, I think it works quite well - if you already know the stories.)
Each story is a separate and self-contained tale, told in a different format, voice and even dialect, but with similarities in theme and some overlapping characters.
THEMES
There are many themes. Connectedness (and possibly reincarnation) are perhaps the most obvious - and the themes themselves are often connected with other themes. In addition to connectedness, themes include: victim/predator/leech, journeys, escape, transformation, falling/ascending (both literal and metaphorical or spiritual).
I think the overriding theme is the many, varied, but perhaps inevitable ways that humans exploit each other through power, money, knowledge, brute force, religion or whatever: 鈥淭he world IS wicked. Maoris prey on Moriori, Whites prey on darker-hued cousins, fleas prey on mice, cats prey on rats, Christians on infidels, first mates on cabin boys, Death on the Living. 鈥楾he weak are meat, the strong do eat.鈥欌€� One fine day, a purely predatory world SHALL consume itself.鈥� This is echoed in The Thousand Autumns, "In the animal kingdom... the vanquished are eaten."
There are also connections between characters and events, and, less subtly (completely unnecessarily, imo), someone in each has a birth mark that looks like a comet.
(Connectedness is much the strongest theme in the film, partly through rapid switching between stories to emphasize the parallels, and also because the same actors are used in multiple stories.)
1a THE PACIFIC JOURNAL OF ADAM EWING
The opening tale concerns a voyage, and immediately draws the reader in with echoes of Crusoe, 鈥淏eyond the Indian hamlet, on a forlorn strand, I happened upon a trail of recent footprints鈥�. Adam is a wide-eyed and honourable young American lawyer in 1850 (somewhat reminiscent of Jacob de Zoet in Mitchell鈥檚 latest novel: ), on his way to the Chatham Isles to trace the beneficiaries of a will. He struggles with the politics of the ship鈥檚 crew and issues of colonialism, slavery, genocide (Maori of Moriori) and then鈥� it breaks off mid sentence!
This story has particular parallels with Matthew Kneale's English Passengers (/review/show... a voyage between colonies, with a theme of exploitation.
2a LETTERS FROM ZEDELGHEM
This is a series of letters from Robert Frobisher, a penniless young English composer, to his friend Rufus Sixsmith, written in 1931 (quite a lot of sixes in this book). He has a wealthy and educated background, but has been cut off from his family, so is in Belgium (Edinburgh, in the film!), searching for the aging composer Vyvyan Ayrs, where he hopes to gain a position as amanuensis and collaborator: the journey involves literal travel, but also the seeking of fame and fortune. This section opens with a visceral passion for music, which infuses this whole section; Frobisher hears music in every event: dreaming of breaking china, 鈥渁n august chord rang out, half-cello, half-celeste, D major (?), held for four beats鈥�. Frobisher is an unscrupulous opportunist (very unlike Adam Ewing), but not without talent. The latter enables him to wheedle his way into the complex lives of the Ayrs/Crommelynck household (the latter cropping up in other Mitchell books).
3a HALF LIVES: THE FIRST LUISA REY MYSTERY
It鈥檚 1975 and Dr Rufus Sixsmith is now 66. He is broke and either in trouble with mysterious forces or paranoid. This one鈥檚 a thriller, involving a would-be-investigative-journalist, Luisa Rey. Mitchell inserts a caveat via Sixsmith, 鈥渁ll thrillers would wither without contrivance鈥�, though actually much of this story is obscure until the second half.
4a THE GHASTLY ORDEAL OF TIMOTHY CAVENDISH
This is contemporary comedy: Cavendish is a vanity publisher with an unexpected best-seller on his hands (memoirs of a murderer). Like Sixsmith, he ends up broke and fleeing enemies, though this one is more of a farce, with echoes of Jonathan Coe鈥檚 鈥淲hat a Carve Up鈥� ().
5a AN ORISON OF SOMNI-251
This is set in 22nd century Korea, which is an extreme corpocracy (corporate capitalism taken to its logical conclusion 鈥� which even affects the language (see below)). Purebloods are 鈥渁 sponge of demand that sucked goods and services from every vendor鈥� and it is a crime to fail to meet one鈥檚 monthly spending target. (In the film, this section looks stunning, but the underlying philosophy is largely ignored.)
The format is an interrogation of Somni-251, a fabricant (humanoid clone), who is a monastic server of fast food at Papa Song鈥檚 鈥� which just happens to have golden arches as its logo (the film plays safe and is not so obviously McDonald's). She is knowledgeable and opinionated, though it鈥檚 not immediately clear what, if anything, else she鈥檚 done wrong. There are plenty of nods to Orwell, Huxley and others 鈥� even to the extent that Somni mentions reading them. The ideas of ascension, heaven, an afterlife and so on that are suggested in many sections are explicit in this one; it鈥檚 where the themes of the book really begin to come together. What it means to be human, exemplified by the relative positions of purebloods and fabricants, are reminiscent of the slavery that Adam Ewing considers: the idea that fabricants lack a personality is a 鈥渇allacy propagated for the comfort of purebloods鈥�. She has a distinctively poetic voice, which lends beauty to the section of the book, but causes problems for her: a fabricant that is as eloquent as a pureblood creates unease.
6 SLOOSHA鈥橲 CROSSIN鈥� AN鈥� EV鈥橰YTHIN鈥� AFTER
The only section told, unbroken, from start to finish, which is ironic given that it鈥檚 set in a very broken future world. Even the language has disintegrated to some extent, much as in Russell Hoban鈥檚 鈥淩iddley Walker鈥�, to which Mitchell acknowledges a debt in this article:
See below for specific linguistic quirks, and here for my review of RW: .
Zachry is explaining his life, beliefs and practices, though it isn鈥檛 clear who he is addressing (or why). He talks of 鈥淭he Fall鈥� and 鈥渇lashbangin鈥� which were the end of 鈥淐iv鈥檒ize Days鈥�, though some 鈥淧rescients鈥� survived on a ship which visits and barter at regular interval, but never leave anything 鈥渕ore smart鈥� than what is already there. 鈥淗uman hunger birthed the Civ鈥檒ize, but human hunger killed it too鈥� 鈥� even though Malthus was revered as a prophet by that earlier civilisation.
Then one of the Prescient, Meronym, comes to stay for six months. She wants to learn and observe, but many of the islanders fear her motives. Zachry is keen to explain himself and to learn from her. His language can make him sound simple, but he鈥檚 actually quite prescient: 鈥淭here ain鈥檛 no journey what don鈥檛 change you some鈥�, which is perhaps the message of the book. The deeper question in this section is who is exploiting whom (there is also a warfaring tribe, the Kona)?
5b AN ORISON OF SOMNI-251
Somni鈥檚 story starts to make more sense, particularly the meaning and method of ascension and her story鈥檚 connections with Sloosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥� (6).
4b THE GHASTLY ORDEAL OF TIMOTHY CAVENDISH
Imprisoned in a most unlikely place, Timothy hatches an extraordinary and comical bid for freedom. (It鈥檚 not quite The Great Escape.)
3b HALF LIVES: THE FIRST LUISA REY MYSTERY
There is real excitement in this, though some may find it slightly confusing. When one character writes notes comparing the real and virtual past (p392-393), the levels of stories-within-stories and boundaries of fact and fiction are well and truly blurred, which is part of what this whole book is about. (Is Luisa "real" in the context of the book? She doesn't always feel it, but there is a direct link between her and another character.):
鈥淭he actual past is brittle, ever-dimming鈥� in contrast, the virtual past is malleable, ever-brightening + ever more difficult to circumvent/expose as fraudulent.鈥�
鈥淧ower seeks + is the right to 鈥榣andscape鈥� the virtual past.鈥�
鈥淥ne model of time: an infinite matryoshka doll of painted moments鈥� 鈥� something this book is often likened to.
鈥淭he uncreated and the dead exist solely in our actual and virtual pasts. Now the bifurcation of these two pasts will begin.鈥�
2b LETTERS FROM ZEDELGHEM
Will Frobisher make good 鈥� or even be good? 鈥淲e do not stay dead for long鈥� My birth next time鈥︹€�
1b THE PACIFIC JOURNAL OF ADAM EWING
Adam lands on an island where white Christian missionaries appear to be doing good work. However, the relationship between blacks and whites (and even between man and wife) exemplify the unequal power relationships that are common to all the stories. Adam dreams of a more utopian world, though.
LANGUAGE/DIALECT
The two futuristic sections are notable for their language. Some people seem to dislike or struggle with this aspect, but I think it adds depth, interest and plausibility.
The corporate world of Somni-451 (5) means that many former brand names have become common nouns (as hoover, kleenex and sellotape already have): ford (car), fordjam, sony (PC), kodak (photo), nikes (any shoes), disney (any film/movie), starbuck (coffee).
There are neologisms, too: facescaping (extreme cosmetic surgery), upstrata (posh), dijied (digitised).
Perhaps more surprisingly, a few words have simplified spelling: xactly, xpose, fritened, lite (mind you, that is already quite common), thruway.
In the post-apocalyptic world of Sloosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥� (6), the dialect is a mix of childish mishearings and misspellings, very similar to that in Russell Hoban鈥檚 鈥淩iddley Walker鈥� (see links in the section about Sloosha, above): I telled him, hurrycane.
At times, it鈥檚 very poetic: 鈥淲atery dark it was inside. Wax鈥檔鈥� teak-oil鈥檔鈥檛ime was its smell鈥� An鈥� then we heard a sort o鈥� roaring underneath the silence, made o鈥� mil鈥檡uns o鈥� whisp鈥檙in鈥檚 like the ocean.鈥� More graphically, 鈥淲e鈥檇 get a feverish hornyin鈥� for each other鈥� I was slurpyin鈥� her lustsome mangoes an鈥� moistly fig鈥�!
LINKS BETWEEN SECTIONS
Kazuo Ishiguro tries something slightly similar and less ambitious in his short story collection,
Somni is apparently a fan of Jorge Luis Borges; she has read Funes' Remembrances - a nod to Funes, His Memory, which is in Artificies.
Who has comet birthmarks:
See discussion here:
SOME LINKS WITH HIS OTHER WORKS
Katy Forbes in Ghostwritten has a comet-shaped birthmark.
Adam Ewing (1)'s ship is seen in The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet (see 1.30 in this video: )
Luisa Rey (3) and Timothy Cavendish (4) appear in Ghostwritten.
Vyvyan Ayrs (2)'s daughter is an old woman in Black Swan Green.
MISCELLANEOUS QUOTES
* I love the bathos of 鈥渃ancerous suburbs, tedious farmland, spoiled Sussex鈥� versified cliffs [Dover] as romantic as my arse in a similar hue.鈥�
* 鈥淚mplausible truth can serve one better than plausible fiction.鈥�
* 鈥淚 felt Nietzche was reading me, not I him.鈥�
* 鈥淢ost cities are nouns, but New York is a verb.鈥� Attributed (in the book) to JFK.
* "Power. What do we mean? 'The ability to determine another man's luck.'"
* 鈥淭he room bubbles with sentences more spoken than listened to.鈥�
* 鈥淎 predawn ocean breeze makes vague promises.鈥�
* 鈥淭ime is the speed at which the past decays, but disneys [films] enable a brief resurrection.鈥�
* 鈥淟ite [sic] from the coming day defined the world more clearly now.鈥�
* 鈥淪unlite [sic] bent around the world, lending fragile colour to wild flowers.鈥�
* 鈥淲e [over 60s] commit two offences just by existing. One is Lack of Velocity. We drive too slowly, walk too slowly, talk too slowly鈥� Our second offence is being Everyman鈥檚 memento mori.鈥�
* 鈥淥nce any tyranny becomes accepted as ordinary鈥� its victory is assured.鈥�
* 鈥淧ower, time, gravity, love. The forces that really kick ass are all invisible.鈥�
* 鈥淎s dear old Kilvert notes, nothing is more tiresome than being told what to admire.鈥�
* 鈥淗er contempt鈥� if bottled, could have been vended as rat poison鈥� I heard male indignation trampled by female scorn.鈥�
* 鈥淭he colour of monotony is blue.鈥�
My review from early 2000s...
A novel comprising six interlocking tales on the theme of connectedness and predacity (few likeable characters, though certainly some interesting and amusing ones).
The idea is that souls drift through time and space (and bodies), like clouds across the sky. As one character learns the story of another, the layers of fiction meld: which are "fact" within the overall fiction?
Each story has a totally different style, appropriate to its time, genre and supposed authorship. The two futuristic ones use two different versions of English: etymologically logical, but lots of made up words; the capitalist Korean one hints at the political/corporate philosophy underlying the society (as in Orwell's 1984) and the primitive Hawaiian one has more shades of Caribbean/Pidgin and a very similar feel to Russell Hoban's Riddley Walker (). One crucial but evil corporation is a fast food place with a golden arches logo - I hope Mitchell's lawyers checked that was OK!
Somewhat incestuously, a couple of main characters had a mention in his first novel, Ghostwritten (Louisa Rey & the Cavendish brothers, the latter having echoes of Coe's What a Carve Up) and the composer's daughter from this book appears in the later Black Swan Green.
Much as I enjoyed this, and think the Russian-doll, nested story structure is clever, I preferred the more subtle and less gimmicky approach he uses in Ghostwritten ().
Three good pieces about this on Guardian Bookclub:
* The importance of interruption:
* Connections:
* Mitchell talking about his inspirations:
STRUCTURE
It鈥檚 often described as a matryoshka doll or a turducken, but that鈥檚 not the best analogy, imo.
Imagine six very different short books, each open at roughly the middle, then pile them up - and that is the structure of Cloud Atlas (story 1a, 2a, 3a, 4a, 5a, 6, 5b, 4b, 3b, 2b, 1b). The structure is echoed in this clever and very brief review:....
This is a close lifting of what Calvino describes in If on a Winter's Night a Traveler: "the Oriental tradition" where one story stops "at the moment of greatest suspense" and then narrative switches to another story, perhaps by the protagonist picking up a book and reading it.
(The structure of the film is entirely different: it cuts between all six stories repeatedly, which emphasises the parallels in the different stories. In the medium of film, I think it works quite well - if you already know the stories.)
Each story is a separate and self-contained tale, told in a different format, voice and even dialect, but with similarities in theme and some overlapping characters.
THEMES
There are many themes. Connectedness (and possibly reincarnation) are perhaps the most obvious - and the themes themselves are often connected with other themes. In addition to connectedness, themes include: victim/predator/leech, journeys, escape, transformation, falling/ascending (both literal and metaphorical or spiritual).
I think the overriding theme is the many, varied, but perhaps inevitable ways that humans exploit each other through power, money, knowledge, brute force, religion or whatever: 鈥淭he world IS wicked. Maoris prey on Moriori, Whites prey on darker-hued cousins, fleas prey on mice, cats prey on rats, Christians on infidels, first mates on cabin boys, Death on the Living. 鈥楾he weak are meat, the strong do eat.鈥欌€� One fine day, a purely predatory world SHALL consume itself.鈥� This is echoed in The Thousand Autumns, "In the animal kingdom... the vanquished are eaten."
There are also connections between characters and events, and, less subtly (completely unnecessarily, imo), someone in each has a birth mark that looks like a comet.
(Connectedness is much the strongest theme in the film, partly through rapid switching between stories to emphasize the parallels, and also because the same actors are used in multiple stories.)
1a THE PACIFIC JOURNAL OF ADAM EWING
The opening tale concerns a voyage, and immediately draws the reader in with echoes of Crusoe, 鈥淏eyond the Indian hamlet, on a forlorn strand, I happened upon a trail of recent footprints鈥�. Adam is a wide-eyed and honourable young American lawyer in 1850 (somewhat reminiscent of Jacob de Zoet in Mitchell鈥檚 latest novel: ), on his way to the Chatham Isles to trace the beneficiaries of a will. He struggles with the politics of the ship鈥檚 crew and issues of colonialism, slavery, genocide (Maori of Moriori) and then鈥� it breaks off mid sentence!
This story has particular parallels with Matthew Kneale's English Passengers (/review/show... a voyage between colonies, with a theme of exploitation.
2a LETTERS FROM ZEDELGHEM
This is a series of letters from Robert Frobisher, a penniless young English composer, to his friend Rufus Sixsmith, written in 1931 (quite a lot of sixes in this book). He has a wealthy and educated background, but has been cut off from his family, so is in Belgium (Edinburgh, in the film!), searching for the aging composer Vyvyan Ayrs, where he hopes to gain a position as amanuensis and collaborator: the journey involves literal travel, but also the seeking of fame and fortune. This section opens with a visceral passion for music, which infuses this whole section; Frobisher hears music in every event: dreaming of breaking china, 鈥渁n august chord rang out, half-cello, half-celeste, D major (?), held for four beats鈥�. Frobisher is an unscrupulous opportunist (very unlike Adam Ewing), but not without talent. The latter enables him to wheedle his way into the complex lives of the Ayrs/Crommelynck household (the latter cropping up in other Mitchell books).
3a HALF LIVES: THE FIRST LUISA REY MYSTERY
It鈥檚 1975 and Dr Rufus Sixsmith is now 66. He is broke and either in trouble with mysterious forces or paranoid. This one鈥檚 a thriller, involving a would-be-investigative-journalist, Luisa Rey. Mitchell inserts a caveat via Sixsmith, 鈥渁ll thrillers would wither without contrivance鈥�, though actually much of this story is obscure until the second half.
4a THE GHASTLY ORDEAL OF TIMOTHY CAVENDISH
This is contemporary comedy: Cavendish is a vanity publisher with an unexpected best-seller on his hands (memoirs of a murderer). Like Sixsmith, he ends up broke and fleeing enemies, though this one is more of a farce, with echoes of Jonathan Coe鈥檚 鈥淲hat a Carve Up鈥� ().
5a AN ORISON OF SOMNI-251
This is set in 22nd century Korea, which is an extreme corpocracy (corporate capitalism taken to its logical conclusion 鈥� which even affects the language (see below)). Purebloods are 鈥渁 sponge of demand that sucked goods and services from every vendor鈥� and it is a crime to fail to meet one鈥檚 monthly spending target. (In the film, this section looks stunning, but the underlying philosophy is largely ignored.)
The format is an interrogation of Somni-251, a fabricant (humanoid clone), who is a monastic server of fast food at Papa Song鈥檚 鈥� which just happens to have golden arches as its logo (the film plays safe and is not so obviously McDonald's). She is knowledgeable and opinionated, though it鈥檚 not immediately clear what, if anything, else she鈥檚 done wrong. There are plenty of nods to Orwell, Huxley and others 鈥� even to the extent that Somni mentions reading them. The ideas of ascension, heaven, an afterlife and so on that are suggested in many sections are explicit in this one; it鈥檚 where the themes of the book really begin to come together. What it means to be human, exemplified by the relative positions of purebloods and fabricants, are reminiscent of the slavery that Adam Ewing considers: the idea that fabricants lack a personality is a 鈥渇allacy propagated for the comfort of purebloods鈥�. She has a distinctively poetic voice, which lends beauty to the section of the book, but causes problems for her: a fabricant that is as eloquent as a pureblood creates unease.
6 SLOOSHA鈥橲 CROSSIN鈥� AN鈥� EV鈥橰YTHIN鈥� AFTER
The only section told, unbroken, from start to finish, which is ironic given that it鈥檚 set in a very broken future world. Even the language has disintegrated to some extent, much as in Russell Hoban鈥檚 鈥淩iddley Walker鈥�, to which Mitchell acknowledges a debt in this article:
See below for specific linguistic quirks, and here for my review of RW: .
Zachry is explaining his life, beliefs and practices, though it isn鈥檛 clear who he is addressing (or why). He talks of 鈥淭he Fall鈥� and 鈥渇lashbangin鈥� which were the end of 鈥淐iv鈥檒ize Days鈥�, though some 鈥淧rescients鈥� survived on a ship which visits and barter at regular interval, but never leave anything 鈥渕ore smart鈥� than what is already there. 鈥淗uman hunger birthed the Civ鈥檒ize, but human hunger killed it too鈥� 鈥� even though Malthus was revered as a prophet by that earlier civilisation.
Then one of the Prescient, Meronym, comes to stay for six months. She wants to learn and observe, but many of the islanders fear her motives. Zachry is keen to explain himself and to learn from her. His language can make him sound simple, but he鈥檚 actually quite prescient: 鈥淭here ain鈥檛 no journey what don鈥檛 change you some鈥�, which is perhaps the message of the book. The deeper question in this section is who is exploiting whom (there is also a warfaring tribe, the Kona)?
5b AN ORISON OF SOMNI-251
Somni鈥檚 story starts to make more sense, particularly the meaning and method of ascension and her story鈥檚 connections with Sloosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥� (6).
4b THE GHASTLY ORDEAL OF TIMOTHY CAVENDISH
Imprisoned in a most unlikely place, Timothy hatches an extraordinary and comical bid for freedom. (It鈥檚 not quite The Great Escape.)
3b HALF LIVES: THE FIRST LUISA REY MYSTERY
There is real excitement in this, though some may find it slightly confusing. When one character writes notes comparing the real and virtual past (p392-393), the levels of stories-within-stories and boundaries of fact and fiction are well and truly blurred, which is part of what this whole book is about. (Is Luisa "real" in the context of the book? She doesn't always feel it, but there is a direct link between her and another character.):
鈥淭he actual past is brittle, ever-dimming鈥� in contrast, the virtual past is malleable, ever-brightening + ever more difficult to circumvent/expose as fraudulent.鈥�
鈥淧ower seeks + is the right to 鈥榣andscape鈥� the virtual past.鈥�
鈥淥ne model of time: an infinite matryoshka doll of painted moments鈥� 鈥� something this book is often likened to.
鈥淭he uncreated and the dead exist solely in our actual and virtual pasts. Now the bifurcation of these two pasts will begin.鈥�
2b LETTERS FROM ZEDELGHEM
Will Frobisher make good 鈥� or even be good? 鈥淲e do not stay dead for long鈥� My birth next time鈥︹€�
1b THE PACIFIC JOURNAL OF ADAM EWING
Adam lands on an island where white Christian missionaries appear to be doing good work. However, the relationship between blacks and whites (and even between man and wife) exemplify the unequal power relationships that are common to all the stories. Adam dreams of a more utopian world, though.
LANGUAGE/DIALECT
The two futuristic sections are notable for their language. Some people seem to dislike or struggle with this aspect, but I think it adds depth, interest and plausibility.
The corporate world of Somni-451 (5) means that many former brand names have become common nouns (as hoover, kleenex and sellotape already have): ford (car), fordjam, sony (PC), kodak (photo), nikes (any shoes), disney (any film/movie), starbuck (coffee).
There are neologisms, too: facescaping (extreme cosmetic surgery), upstrata (posh), dijied (digitised).
Perhaps more surprisingly, a few words have simplified spelling: xactly, xpose, fritened, lite (mind you, that is already quite common), thruway.
In the post-apocalyptic world of Sloosha鈥檚 Crossin鈥� (6), the dialect is a mix of childish mishearings and misspellings, very similar to that in Russell Hoban鈥檚 鈥淩iddley Walker鈥� (see links in the section about Sloosha, above): I telled him, hurrycane.
At times, it鈥檚 very poetic: 鈥淲atery dark it was inside. Wax鈥檔鈥� teak-oil鈥檔鈥檛ime was its smell鈥� An鈥� then we heard a sort o鈥� roaring underneath the silence, made o鈥� mil鈥檡uns o鈥� whisp鈥檙in鈥檚 like the ocean.鈥� More graphically, 鈥淲e鈥檇 get a feverish hornyin鈥� for each other鈥� I was slurpyin鈥� her lustsome mangoes an鈥� moistly fig鈥�!
LINKS BETWEEN SECTIONS
Kazuo Ishiguro tries something slightly similar and less ambitious in his short story collection,
Somni is apparently a fan of Jorge Luis Borges; she has read Funes' Remembrances - a nod to Funes, His Memory, which is in Artificies.
Who has comet birthmarks:
See discussion here:
SOME LINKS WITH HIS OTHER WORKS
Katy Forbes in Ghostwritten has a comet-shaped birthmark.
Adam Ewing (1)'s ship is seen in The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet (see 1.30 in this video: )
Luisa Rey (3) and Timothy Cavendish (4) appear in Ghostwritten.
Vyvyan Ayrs (2)'s daughter is an old woman in Black Swan Green.
MISCELLANEOUS QUOTES
* I love the bathos of 鈥渃ancerous suburbs, tedious farmland, spoiled Sussex鈥� versified cliffs [Dover] as romantic as my arse in a similar hue.鈥�
* 鈥淚mplausible truth can serve one better than plausible fiction.鈥�
* 鈥淚 felt Nietzche was reading me, not I him.鈥�
* 鈥淢ost cities are nouns, but New York is a verb.鈥� Attributed (in the book) to JFK.
* "Power. What do we mean? 'The ability to determine another man's luck.'"
* 鈥淭he room bubbles with sentences more spoken than listened to.鈥�
* 鈥淎 predawn ocean breeze makes vague promises.鈥�
* 鈥淭ime is the speed at which the past decays, but disneys [films] enable a brief resurrection.鈥�
* 鈥淟ite [sic] from the coming day defined the world more clearly now.鈥�
* 鈥淪unlite [sic] bent around the world, lending fragile colour to wild flowers.鈥�
* 鈥淲e [over 60s] commit two offences just by existing. One is Lack of Velocity. We drive too slowly, walk too slowly, talk too slowly鈥� Our second offence is being Everyman鈥檚 memento mori.鈥�
* 鈥淥nce any tyranny becomes accepted as ordinary鈥� its victory is assured.鈥�
* 鈥淧ower, time, gravity, love. The forces that really kick ass are all invisible.鈥�
* 鈥淎s dear old Kilvert notes, nothing is more tiresome than being told what to admire.鈥�
* 鈥淗er contempt鈥� if bottled, could have been vended as rat poison鈥� I heard male indignation trampled by female scorn.鈥�
* 鈥淭he colour of monotony is blue.鈥�
My review from early 2000s...
A novel comprising six interlocking tales on the theme of connectedness and predacity (few likeable characters, though certainly some interesting and amusing ones).
The idea is that souls drift through time and space (and bodies), like clouds across the sky. As one character learns the story of another, the layers of fiction meld: which are "fact" within the overall fiction?
Each story has a totally different style, appropriate to its time, genre and supposed authorship. The two futuristic ones use two different versions of English: etymologically logical, but lots of made up words; the capitalist Korean one hints at the political/corporate philosophy underlying the society (as in Orwell's 1984) and the primitive Hawaiian one has more shades of Caribbean/Pidgin and a very similar feel to Russell Hoban's Riddley Walker (). One crucial but evil corporation is a fast food place with a golden arches logo - I hope Mitchell's lawyers checked that was OK!
Somewhat incestuously, a couple of main characters had a mention in his first novel, Ghostwritten (Louisa Rey & the Cavendish brothers, the latter having echoes of Coe's What a Carve Up) and the composer's daughter from this book appears in the later Black Swan Green.
Much as I enjoyed this, and think the Russian-doll, nested story structure is clever, I preferred the more subtle and less gimmicky approach he uses in Ghostwritten ().
Three good pieces about this on Guardian Bookclub:
* The importance of interruption:
* Connections:
* Mitchell talking about his inspirations:
June 12, 2020
Cloud Atlas is layered, complex, uniquely structured, occasionally puzzling, often moving, and definitely not for the faint of heart. It's famously (or infamously) structured with a sextet of interconnected stories that range from the mid-1800s to the distant future.
Despite the sometimes huge leaps in time, each story is tied to the stories before and after it by colorful threads: characters read (or view) each others' stories; themes resurface, showing a different face; memorable scenes--like increasingly small fruit being shot off a reluctant clone's head with an arrow--are unexpectedly reflected in a similar scene in a later story; characters experience deja vu moments that tie them to another character in a different story. karen's description in her review is so apt: "the stories. they sneak into each others' worlds both thematically, and more overtly, like foraging little mice on mouse-missions. sometimes they are each others' stories."
Part 1 is the 1850-era journal of Adam Ewing, an American notary who is traveling in the South Pacific. He witnesses the brutality of the Maori people toward the Moriori natives, not realizing 鈥� at first 鈥� that his own white people are often equally as brutal and predatory. This story is told in the style of Herman Melville, which, frankly, makes for a tough start to the novel. But don't lose heart, because very soon comes:
Part 2: Letters written in 1931 by a young Robert Frobisher, an amoral, self-centered, dishonest, but very funny and charming bisexual musical genius, to his friend Rufus Sixsmith. Frobisher, disinherited and looking to escape from his debts, attaches himself as an assistant to an older, nearly blind musician, Vyvyan Ayrs, who is living in Belgium. After a rocky start, the musical collaboration goes well, but soon problems start to surface again. Adam Ewing's journal is discovered by Robert while he is fishing around in the Ayrs' home, looking for old books to steal and sell.
Part 3: It's 1975, and Rufus Sixsmith is now an older man who meets a journalist, Luisa Rey, in California when they're stuck together in a broken elevator. Luisa is looking for a good story, and Rufus has some dirt on the new nuclear reactor in the area. This piece reads like a fast-moving crime novel that you'd pick up in an airport to distract you on your flight.
Part 4: In the early 2000s, Timothy Cavendish, a 60-something British man who is a vanity publisher, is writing his memoirs. One of his authors (who comes from a rough family) tosses his worst literary critic over the side of a skyscraper, killing him. The resulting publicity makes the author's book an instant bestseller. Though the author is in jail, his brothers come to Timothy looking for a piece of the monetary pie. Timothy goes on the run . . .
Part 5: Sometime in the not-too-far-distant future, in what used to be Korea, not-too-bright clones ("fabricants") are used as a source of slave labor. They are deemed to have no soul. Corporate power rules, and the slang amusingly reflects that as several trademarks are now the generic names for everyday objects (people wear nikes on their feet, drive fords and watch disneys). Sonmi-451 is a fabricant fast food worker who is unexpectedly "ascending," gaining greatly increased intelligence and understanding. A group steals her away from the restaurant, but what is their agenda for Sonmi-451?
Part 6: In a far-distant future, Zachry tells the story of his adventures in his youth on the "Big I" of "Hawi" to a group of children. Zachry's people, the Valleymen, are a no-tech, superstitious, rural people who worship the goddess Sonmi and are periodically in danger from Kona raiders, who seek to enslave them. The Valleyman are also visited annually by the Prescients, who seem to be the one group of people who still have technology and scientific understanding. One of the Prescients, Meronym, asks to stay with Zachry's people for a year and Zachry's family is elected to host her, much to his dismay. They eventually become friends as he leads her on a pilgrimage to what's left of the observatories on Mauna Kea, symbolically capping the novel as events start to descend from there.
Mitchell's ability to create very distinct narrators, writing styles, and futuristic languages without sacrificing (too much) understanding is truly praiseworthy. It helped me to know that each story section was (with the exception of the culminating central story) only about 40 pages long, so if I was having difficulties with one narrator I had the comfort of knowing that a different narrator would soon take over. Also, I cheerfully sacrificed the element of surprise for the satisfaction of better understanding, and read several online discussions and reviews of Cloud Atlas while I was reading each section of the book. The Cloud Atlas Readalong at editorialeyes.net was particularly helpful.
Cloud Atlas grapples with some heavy themes: power, greed, slavery, predatory vs. selfless behavior, prejudice, love, the nature of souls . . . I could go on. I think I may admire this book more than I love it, but it's an amazing achievement and really made me think. It is absolutely worth reading if you're up for a mental challenge.
Spent the fortnight gone in the music room, reworking my year's fragments into a 'sextet for overlapping soloists': piano, clarinet, 'cello, flute, oboe and violin, each in its own language of key, scale, and color. In the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor: in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order. Revolutionary or gimmicky? Shan't know until it's finished.I like that Mitchell has a sense of humor about his story. :) Like this Cloud Atlas Sextet musical piece written by one of the characters, each story is told by a different voice, and cuts off abruptly (sometimes in mid-sentence) until the central story. Then the storyline moves back again through time, wrapping up each tale. To use another simile, the novel is very much like a set of Russian nesting dolls that is taken apart and then put back together again.
One model of time: an infinite matryoshka doll of painted moments, each "shell" (the present) encased inside a nest of "shells" (previous presents) I call the actual past but which we perceive as the virtual past. The doll of "now" likewise encases a nest of presents yet to be, which I call the actual future but which we perceive as the virtual future.
Despite the sometimes huge leaps in time, each story is tied to the stories before and after it by colorful threads: characters read (or view) each others' stories; themes resurface, showing a different face; memorable scenes--like increasingly small fruit being shot off a reluctant clone's head with an arrow--are unexpectedly reflected in a similar scene in a later story; characters experience deja vu moments that tie them to another character in a different story. karen's description in her review is so apt: "the stories. they sneak into each others' worlds both thematically, and more overtly, like foraging little mice on mouse-missions. sometimes they are each others' stories."
Part 1 is the 1850-era journal of Adam Ewing, an American notary who is traveling in the South Pacific. He witnesses the brutality of the Maori people toward the Moriori natives, not realizing 鈥� at first 鈥� that his own white people are often equally as brutal and predatory. This story is told in the style of Herman Melville, which, frankly, makes for a tough start to the novel. But don't lose heart, because very soon comes:
Part 2: Letters written in 1931 by a young Robert Frobisher, an amoral, self-centered, dishonest, but very funny and charming bisexual musical genius, to his friend Rufus Sixsmith. Frobisher, disinherited and looking to escape from his debts, attaches himself as an assistant to an older, nearly blind musician, Vyvyan Ayrs, who is living in Belgium. After a rocky start, the musical collaboration goes well, but soon problems start to surface again. Adam Ewing's journal is discovered by Robert while he is fishing around in the Ayrs' home, looking for old books to steal and sell.
Part 3: It's 1975, and Rufus Sixsmith is now an older man who meets a journalist, Luisa Rey, in California when they're stuck together in a broken elevator. Luisa is looking for a good story, and Rufus has some dirt on the new nuclear reactor in the area. This piece reads like a fast-moving crime novel that you'd pick up in an airport to distract you on your flight.
Part 4: In the early 2000s, Timothy Cavendish, a 60-something British man who is a vanity publisher, is writing his memoirs. One of his authors (who comes from a rough family) tosses his worst literary critic over the side of a skyscraper, killing him. The resulting publicity makes the author's book an instant bestseller. Though the author is in jail, his brothers come to Timothy looking for a piece of the monetary pie. Timothy goes on the run . . .
Part 5: Sometime in the not-too-far-distant future, in what used to be Korea, not-too-bright clones ("fabricants") are used as a source of slave labor. They are deemed to have no soul. Corporate power rules, and the slang amusingly reflects that as several trademarks are now the generic names for everyday objects (people wear nikes on their feet, drive fords and watch disneys). Sonmi-451 is a fabricant fast food worker who is unexpectedly "ascending," gaining greatly increased intelligence and understanding. A group steals her away from the restaurant, but what is their agenda for Sonmi-451?
Part 6: In a far-distant future, Zachry tells the story of his adventures in his youth on the "Big I" of "Hawi" to a group of children. Zachry's people, the Valleymen, are a no-tech, superstitious, rural people who worship the goddess Sonmi and are periodically in danger from Kona raiders, who seek to enslave them. The Valleyman are also visited annually by the Prescients, who seem to be the one group of people who still have technology and scientific understanding. One of the Prescients, Meronym, asks to stay with Zachry's people for a year and Zachry's family is elected to host her, much to his dismay. They eventually become friends as he leads her on a pilgrimage to what's left of the observatories on Mauna Kea, symbolically capping the novel as events start to descend from there.
Mitchell's ability to create very distinct narrators, writing styles, and futuristic languages without sacrificing (too much) understanding is truly praiseworthy. It helped me to know that each story section was (with the exception of the culminating central story) only about 40 pages long, so if I was having difficulties with one narrator I had the comfort of knowing that a different narrator would soon take over. Also, I cheerfully sacrificed the element of surprise for the satisfaction of better understanding, and read several online discussions and reviews of Cloud Atlas while I was reading each section of the book. The Cloud Atlas Readalong at editorialeyes.net was particularly helpful.
Cloud Atlas grapples with some heavy themes: power, greed, slavery, predatory vs. selfless behavior, prejudice, love, the nature of souls . . . I could go on. I think I may admire this book more than I love it, but it's an amazing achievement and really made me think. It is absolutely worth reading if you're up for a mental challenge.
Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an鈥� tho鈥� a cloud鈥檚 shape nor hue nor size don鈥檛 stay the same, it鈥檚 still a cloud an鈥� so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud鈥檚 blowed from or who the soul鈥檒l be 鈥榤orrow? Only Sonmi the east an鈥� the west an鈥� the compass an鈥� the atlas, yay, only the atlas o鈥� clouds.
October 14, 2018
3 conflicted stars !
Gosh I struggled with this book.
Is this book well written? No doubt about it.
Is this book overwritten and too stylized? At times, yes it was.
Were the stories wonderfully original? Yes they were.
Did the stories fail to move me? Alas, they did.
This was the main crux of the matter. The stories did not resonate with me one bit. At times I could enjoy them but I found them so empty and unsatisfying. These stories were intellectually brilliant but emotionally bankrupt. (there I said it and I apologize as I am aware of how many people adored this book.)
I'm glad I read it but I am more relieved that the book is over.
Gosh I struggled with this book.
Is this book well written? No doubt about it.
Is this book overwritten and too stylized? At times, yes it was.
Were the stories wonderfully original? Yes they were.
Did the stories fail to move me? Alas, they did.
This was the main crux of the matter. The stories did not resonate with me one bit. At times I could enjoy them but I found them so empty and unsatisfying. These stories were intellectually brilliant but emotionally bankrupt. (there I said it and I apologize as I am aware of how many people adored this book.)
I'm glad I read it but I am more relieved that the book is over.
September 18, 2018
Bulgarian review below/袪械胁褞褌芯 薪邪 斜褗谢谐邪褉褋泻懈 械 锌芯-写芯谢褍
You probably wonder now and then if the chords of your soul reverberate through time. I do too. Or if those 21 grams caught in several dozen kilos of flesh fly away like startled little birds when our time to go strikes. Maybe that鈥檚 also possible. We probably haven鈥檛 awaken to such a degree of consciousness as to know the answer of this question and to be drawn to some hypothetical 鈥榖eyond鈥� instead to the quite material and palpable 鈥榥ow鈥�.
鈥楥loud Atlas鈥� is a story about the reincarnation of a single soul (in the author鈥檚 words). Some of its embodiments chime in with something larger than themselves and for others conceitedness and its blotchy baby brother 鈥� egoism 鈥� are a creed. David Mitchell does not judge though. He doesn鈥檛 glorify and doesn鈥檛 stigmatize. He builds his stories upon the simple assumption that everything we do will matter somewhere, sometime, on a large or small scale, and he creates objective connections. The soul swims through time and space, solitary and rejected in one incarnation, almost forgotten by everyone or deified in another.
鈥榃e do not stay dead long. Once my Luger lets me go, my birth, next time around, will be upon me in a heartbeat. Thirteen years from now we鈥檒l meet again at Gresham, ten years later I鈥檒l be back in this same room, holding this same gun, composing this same letter, my resolution as perfect as my many-headed sextet鈥�
Sunt lacrim忙 rerum.鈥�
Mitchell himself says in an interview that there wasn鈥檛 some grandly conceived plan behind the creation of the novel, and he just wanted to write the craziest and most gargantuan thing that comes to his mind. I think this proves something of a rule of thumb 鈥� if you don鈥檛 much care what others will have to say about your work, you are free of the ambition to 鈥榓chieve something鈥� with it and just surrender to some internal rhythm, and that鈥檚 when the results really glow.
The narrative I liked most was that of Sonmi-451. Sonmi鈥檚 fate reminded me of Emiko from 鈥楾he Windup Girl鈥� 鈥� there was this whiff of fatality in it too. People have low tolerance threshold for things with a higher level of consciousness than themselves 鈥� are we not proud to be the only species who think and create? Well, and if that鈥檚 not true?
鈥�- Do you regret the course of your life?
- How can I? 鈥楻egret鈥� implies a freely chosen, but erroneous, action; free will plays no part in my story.鈥�
In our stories though free will (if we can speak of such category at all) has its place on the mise-en-scene. Who could tell if Mitchell was right when writing his 鈥榡uvenile whim鈥� as he calls it? We all go down the miniature spirals of our lives and we are dashing to their end. We might as well think about what follows next. It might be far more real than what we are capable of imagining.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
袙械褉芯褟褌薪芯 胁褋械 薪褟泻芯谐邪 褋褌械 褋械 锌懈褌邪谢懈 写邪谢懈 邪泻芯褉写懈褌械 薪邪 写褍褕邪褌邪 胁懈 芯褌械泻胁邪褌 胁褗胁 胁褉械屑械褌芯. 袠 邪蟹 褋褗屑. 袠谢懈 锌褗泻 褌械蟹懈 21 谐褉邪屑邪, 蟹邪谢芯褋褌械薪懈 胁 薪褟泻芯谢泻芯 写械褋械褌泻懈 泻懈谢芯谐褉邪屑邪 蟹邪褌胁芯褉 芯褌 锌谢褗褌, 褋械 褉邪蟹谢懈褌邪褌 泻邪褌芯 锌芯写锌谢邪褕械薪懈 锌褌懈褔泻懈, 泻芯谐邪褌芯 薪懈 写芯泄写械 胁褉械屑械褌芯 写邪 褋懈 懈写械屑. 袦芯卸械 懈 褌芯胁邪 写邪 械. 袧邪胁褟褉薪芯 褋屑械 芯褖械 褌胁褗褉写械 薪械写芯芯褋褗蟹薪邪褌懈 泻邪褌芯 胁懈写, 蟹邪 写邪 蟹薪邪械屑 芯褌谐芯胁芯褉邪 薪邪 褌芯蟹懈 胁褗锌褉芯褋 懈 写邪 褋械 懈薪褌械褉械褋褍胁邪屑械 芯褌 薪褟泻邪泻胁芯 褏懈锌芯褌械褌懈褔薪芯 鈥炐狙傂惭娦粹€�, 胁屑械褋褌芯 芯褌 褋褗胁褋械屑 胁械褖械褋褌胁械薪芯褌芯 懈 芯褋械蟹邪械屑芯 鈥炑佇敌承扳€�.
鈥炐炐毙恍靶貉娧� 袗褌谢邪褋鈥� 械 懈褋褌芯褉懈褟 蟹邪 锌褉械褉邪卸写邪薪械褌芯 薪邪 械写薪邪-械写懈薪褋褌胁械薪邪 (锌芯 写褍屑懈 薪邪 邪胁褌芯褉邪) 写褍褕邪. 袧褟泻芯懈 芯褌 胁褗锌谢褗褖械薪懈褟褌邪 褲 褌褉械锌褌褟褌 胁 褋褗蟹胁褍褔懈械 褋 薪械褖芯 锌芯-谐芯谢褟屑芯 芯褌 褋邪屑懈褌械 褋械斜械 褋懈, 蟹邪 写褉褍谐懈 褋邪屑芯屑薪懈褌械谢薪芯褋褌褌邪 懈 锌褗锌褔懈胁懈褟褌 褲 锌芯-屑邪谢褗泻 斜褉邪褌 鈥� 械谐芯懈蟹屑褗褌 鈥� 褋邪 胁械褉褍褞. 袛械泄胁懈写 袦懈褔褗谢 芯斜邪褔械 薪械 芯褋褗卸写邪. 袧械 胁械谢懈褔邪械 懈 薪械 蟹邪泻谢械泄屑褟胁邪. 袠蟹谐褉邪卸写邪 懈褋褌芯褉懈懈褌械 褋懈 胁褗褉褏褍 锌褉芯褋褌懈褔泻芯褌芯 锌褉械写锌芯谢芯卸械薪懈械, 褔械 胁褋懈褔泻芯, 泻芯械褌芯 锌褉邪胁懈屑, 薪褟泻褗写械 薪褟泻芯谐邪 褖械 懈屑邪 薪褟泻邪泻胁芯 蟹薪邪褔械薪懈械, 谐芯谢褟屑芯 懈谢懈 屑邪谢泻芯, 懈 褋褗蟹写邪胁邪 芯斜械泻褌懈胁薪懈 胁褉褗蟹泻懈. 袛褍褕邪褌邪 锌谢褍胁邪 懈蟹 胁褉械屑械褌芯 懈 锌褉芯褋褌褉邪薪褋褌胁芯褌芯, 胁 械写懈薪 卸懈胁芯褌 褋邪屑芯褌薪邪 懈 芯褌褏胁褗褉谢械薪邪, 胁 写褉褍谐 锌芯褔褌懈 蟹邪斜褉邪胁械薪邪 芯褌 胁褋懈褔泻懈 懈谢懈 锌褗泻 芯斜芯卸械褋褌胁褟胁邪薪邪.
鈥炐澬感� 薪械 芯褋褌邪胁邪屑械 屑褗褉褌胁懈 蟹邪 写褗谢谐芯. 小谢械写 泻邪褌芯 屑芯褟褌 袥褞谐械褉 屑械 懈蟹锌褉邪褌懈 胁 芯褌胁褗写薪芯褌芯, 褋邪屑芯 褋谢械写 屑懈谐 褖械 屑械 褋锌芯褏芯写懈 褉邪卸写邪薪械褌芯 屑懈, 褋谢械写胁邪褖芯褌芯 锌芯褉械写. 小谢械写 褌褉懈薪邪泄褋械褌 谐芯写懈薪懈 褖械 褋械 褋褉械褖薪械屑 芯褌薪芯胁芯 胁 袚褉械褕邪屑, 褋谢械写 写械褋械褌 褖械 褋械 芯蟹芯胁邪 芯褌薪芯胁芯 胁 褋褗褖邪褌邪 褌邪蟹懈 褋褌邪褟, 褋褌懈褋薪邪谢 褋褗褖懈褟 褌芯蟹懈 锌懈褋褌芯谢械褌, 褖械 褋褗褔懈薪褟胁邪屑 褋褗褖芯褌芯 褌芯胁邪 锌懈褋屑芯 褋 褉械褕懈褌械谢薪芯褋褌, 褋褗胁褗褉褕械薪邪 泻邪褌芯 屑薪芯谐芯谐谢邪胁懈褟 屑懈 褋械泻褋褌械褌...
Sunt lacrim忙 rerum.鈥�
小邪屑懈褟褌 袦懈褔褗谢 胁 懈薪褌械褉胁褞 泻邪蟹胁邪, 褔械 蟹邪写 褉芯屑邪薪邪 薪械 械 懈屑邪谢芯 锌褗褉胁芯薪邪褔邪谢械薪 谐褉邪薪写懈芯蟹械薪 蟹邪屑懈褋褗谢, 邪 锌褉芯褋褌芯 械 懈褋泻邪谢 写邪 薪邪锌懈褕械 薪邪泄-褕邪褕邪胁芯褌芯 懈 屑邪褖邪斜薪芯 薪械褖芯, 泻芯械褌芯 屑褍 褏褉褍屑薪械. 袦懈褋谢褟, 褔械 褌芯胁邪 写芯泻邪蟹胁邪 锌芯褔褌懈 卸械谢褟蟹薪芯褌芯 锌褉邪胁懈谢芯, 褔械 泻芯谢泻芯褌芯 锌貌 薪械 褌懈 锌褍泻邪 泻邪泻胁芯 褖械 泻邪卸械 薪褟泻芯泄 蟹邪 褉邪斜芯褌邪褌邪 褌懈 懈, 芯褋胁芯斜芯写械薪 芯褌 邪屑斜懈褑懈褟褌邪 写邪 鈥炐啃狙佈傂感承叫笛� 薪械褖芯鈥� 褋 薪械褟, 锌褉芯褋褌芯 褋械 芯褋褌邪胁褟褕 薪邪 薪褟泻邪泻褗胁 胁褗褌褉械褕械薪 褉懈褌褗屑, 褌芯谢泻芯胁邪 锌芯胁械褔械 褋懈褟褟褌 褉械蟹褍谢褌邪褌懈褌械.
袪邪蟹泻邪蟹褗褌, 泻芯泄褌芯 薪邪泄-屑薪芯谐芯 屑懈 褏邪褉械褋邪, 斜械褕械 褌芯蟹懈 薪邪 小芯薪屑懈-451. 小褗写斜邪褌邪 薪邪 小芯薪屑懈 褌胁褗褉写械 屑懈 薪邪锌芯屑薪褟褕械 蟹邪 褌邪蟹懈 薪邪 袝屑懈泻芯 芯褌 The Windup Girl 鈥� 懈 芯褌 薪械褟 谢褗褏邪褕械 褋褗褖邪褌邪 芯斜褉械褔械薪芯褋褌. 啸芯褉邪褌邪 褌褉褍写薪芯 锌芯薪邪褋褟褌 薪械褖芯 写邪 械 锌芯-芯褋褗蟹薪邪褌芯 芯褌 褌褟褏 鈥� 薪邪谢懈 褋械 谐芯褉写械械屑, 褔械 褋屑械 械写懈薪褋褌胁械薪懈褟褌 胁懈写, 泻芯泄褌芯 屑芯卸械 写邪 屑懈褋谢懈 懈 褌胁芯褉懈? 袛邪, 邪屑邪 邪泻芯 薪械 械 褌邪泻邪?
鈥炩€� 小褗卸邪谢褟胁邪褌械 谢懈, 褔械 卸懈胁芯褌褗褌 胁懈 锌褉芯褌械褔械 褌邪泻邪?
鈥� 袣邪泻 斜懈褏 屑芯谐谢邪? 小褗卸邪谢械薪懈械褌芯 锌褉械写锌芯谢邪谐邪 褋胁芯斜芯写薪芯 懈蟹斜褉邪薪芯, 薪芯 锌芯谐褉械褕薪芯 写械泄褋褌胁懈械; 胁 屑芯褟褌邪 懈褋褌芯褉懈褟 褋胁芯斜芯写薪邪褌邪 胁芯谢褟 薪械 懈谐褉邪械 薪懈泻邪泻胁邪 褉芯谢褟.鈥�
袙 薪邪褕懈褌械 懈褋褌芯褉懈懈 芯斜邪褔械 褋胁芯斜芯写薪邪褌邪 胁芯谢褟 (邪泻芯 懈蟹芯斜褖芯 屑芯卸械 写邪 褋械 谐芯胁芯褉懈 蟹邪 褌邪泻邪胁邪 泻邪褌械谐芯褉懈褟) 懈屑邪 褋胁芯械褌芯 屑褟褋褌芯 胁 屑懈蟹邪薪褋褑械薪邪. 袣芯泄 斜懈 屑芯谐褗谢 写邪 泻邪卸械 写邪谢懈 袦懈褔褗谢 械 斜懈谢 锌褉邪胁, 锌懈褕械泄泻懈 褋胁芯褟褌邪 鈥炐夹恍靶葱敌缎盒� 锌褉懈褍屑懈褑邪鈥�, 泻邪泻褌芯 褟 薪邪褉懈褔邪 褌芯泄? 袙褋懈褔泻懈 褋械 胁褗褉褌懈屑 锌芯 屑懈薪懈邪褌褞褉薪懈褌械 褋锌懈褉邪谢懈 薪邪 卸懈胁芯褌邪 褋懈 懈 褍褋褌褉械屑薪芯 褋械 薪芯褋懈屑 泻褗屑 泻褉邪褟 懈屑. 啸褍斜邪胁芯 械 写邪 锌芯屑懈褋谢懈屑 懈 蟹邪 芯薪芯胁邪, 泻芯械褌芯 褋褌邪胁邪 褋谢械写 褌芯胁邪. 孝芯 屑芯卸械 写邪 械 锌芯-懈褋褌懈薪褋泻芯, 芯褌泻芯谢泻芯褌芯 褋屑械 褋锌芯褋芯斜薪懈 写邪 褋懈 锌褉械写褋褌邪胁懈屑.
You probably wonder now and then if the chords of your soul reverberate through time. I do too. Or if those 21 grams caught in several dozen kilos of flesh fly away like startled little birds when our time to go strikes. Maybe that鈥檚 also possible. We probably haven鈥檛 awaken to such a degree of consciousness as to know the answer of this question and to be drawn to some hypothetical 鈥榖eyond鈥� instead to the quite material and palpable 鈥榥ow鈥�.
鈥楥loud Atlas鈥� is a story about the reincarnation of a single soul (in the author鈥檚 words). Some of its embodiments chime in with something larger than themselves and for others conceitedness and its blotchy baby brother 鈥� egoism 鈥� are a creed. David Mitchell does not judge though. He doesn鈥檛 glorify and doesn鈥檛 stigmatize. He builds his stories upon the simple assumption that everything we do will matter somewhere, sometime, on a large or small scale, and he creates objective connections. The soul swims through time and space, solitary and rejected in one incarnation, almost forgotten by everyone or deified in another.
鈥榃e do not stay dead long. Once my Luger lets me go, my birth, next time around, will be upon me in a heartbeat. Thirteen years from now we鈥檒l meet again at Gresham, ten years later I鈥檒l be back in this same room, holding this same gun, composing this same letter, my resolution as perfect as my many-headed sextet鈥�
Sunt lacrim忙 rerum.鈥�
Mitchell himself says in an interview that there wasn鈥檛 some grandly conceived plan behind the creation of the novel, and he just wanted to write the craziest and most gargantuan thing that comes to his mind. I think this proves something of a rule of thumb 鈥� if you don鈥檛 much care what others will have to say about your work, you are free of the ambition to 鈥榓chieve something鈥� with it and just surrender to some internal rhythm, and that鈥檚 when the results really glow.
The narrative I liked most was that of Sonmi-451. Sonmi鈥檚 fate reminded me of Emiko from 鈥楾he Windup Girl鈥� 鈥� there was this whiff of fatality in it too. People have low tolerance threshold for things with a higher level of consciousness than themselves 鈥� are we not proud to be the only species who think and create? Well, and if that鈥檚 not true?
鈥�- Do you regret the course of your life?
- How can I? 鈥楻egret鈥� implies a freely chosen, but erroneous, action; free will plays no part in my story.鈥�
In our stories though free will (if we can speak of such category at all) has its place on the mise-en-scene. Who could tell if Mitchell was right when writing his 鈥榡uvenile whim鈥� as he calls it? We all go down the miniature spirals of our lives and we are dashing to their end. We might as well think about what follows next. It might be far more real than what we are capable of imagining.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
袙械褉芯褟褌薪芯 胁褋械 薪褟泻芯谐邪 褋褌械 褋械 锌懈褌邪谢懈 写邪谢懈 邪泻芯褉写懈褌械 薪邪 写褍褕邪褌邪 胁懈 芯褌械泻胁邪褌 胁褗胁 胁褉械屑械褌芯. 袠 邪蟹 褋褗屑. 袠谢懈 锌褗泻 褌械蟹懈 21 谐褉邪屑邪, 蟹邪谢芯褋褌械薪懈 胁 薪褟泻芯谢泻芯 写械褋械褌泻懈 泻懈谢芯谐褉邪屑邪 蟹邪褌胁芯褉 芯褌 锌谢褗褌, 褋械 褉邪蟹谢懈褌邪褌 泻邪褌芯 锌芯写锌谢邪褕械薪懈 锌褌懈褔泻懈, 泻芯谐邪褌芯 薪懈 写芯泄写械 胁褉械屑械褌芯 写邪 褋懈 懈写械屑. 袦芯卸械 懈 褌芯胁邪 写邪 械. 袧邪胁褟褉薪芯 褋屑械 芯褖械 褌胁褗褉写械 薪械写芯芯褋褗蟹薪邪褌懈 泻邪褌芯 胁懈写, 蟹邪 写邪 蟹薪邪械屑 芯褌谐芯胁芯褉邪 薪邪 褌芯蟹懈 胁褗锌褉芯褋 懈 写邪 褋械 懈薪褌械褉械褋褍胁邪屑械 芯褌 薪褟泻邪泻胁芯 褏懈锌芯褌械褌懈褔薪芯 鈥炐狙傂惭娦粹€�, 胁屑械褋褌芯 芯褌 褋褗胁褋械屑 胁械褖械褋褌胁械薪芯褌芯 懈 芯褋械蟹邪械屑芯 鈥炑佇敌承扳€�.
鈥炐炐毙恍靶貉娧� 袗褌谢邪褋鈥� 械 懈褋褌芯褉懈褟 蟹邪 锌褉械褉邪卸写邪薪械褌芯 薪邪 械写薪邪-械写懈薪褋褌胁械薪邪 (锌芯 写褍屑懈 薪邪 邪胁褌芯褉邪) 写褍褕邪. 袧褟泻芯懈 芯褌 胁褗锌谢褗褖械薪懈褟褌邪 褲 褌褉械锌褌褟褌 胁 褋褗蟹胁褍褔懈械 褋 薪械褖芯 锌芯-谐芯谢褟屑芯 芯褌 褋邪屑懈褌械 褋械斜械 褋懈, 蟹邪 写褉褍谐懈 褋邪屑芯屑薪懈褌械谢薪芯褋褌褌邪 懈 锌褗锌褔懈胁懈褟褌 褲 锌芯-屑邪谢褗泻 斜褉邪褌 鈥� 械谐芯懈蟹屑褗褌 鈥� 褋邪 胁械褉褍褞. 袛械泄胁懈写 袦懈褔褗谢 芯斜邪褔械 薪械 芯褋褗卸写邪. 袧械 胁械谢懈褔邪械 懈 薪械 蟹邪泻谢械泄屑褟胁邪. 袠蟹谐褉邪卸写邪 懈褋褌芯褉懈懈褌械 褋懈 胁褗褉褏褍 锌褉芯褋褌懈褔泻芯褌芯 锌褉械写锌芯谢芯卸械薪懈械, 褔械 胁褋懈褔泻芯, 泻芯械褌芯 锌褉邪胁懈屑, 薪褟泻褗写械 薪褟泻芯谐邪 褖械 懈屑邪 薪褟泻邪泻胁芯 蟹薪邪褔械薪懈械, 谐芯谢褟屑芯 懈谢懈 屑邪谢泻芯, 懈 褋褗蟹写邪胁邪 芯斜械泻褌懈胁薪懈 胁褉褗蟹泻懈. 袛褍褕邪褌邪 锌谢褍胁邪 懈蟹 胁褉械屑械褌芯 懈 锌褉芯褋褌褉邪薪褋褌胁芯褌芯, 胁 械写懈薪 卸懈胁芯褌 褋邪屑芯褌薪邪 懈 芯褌褏胁褗褉谢械薪邪, 胁 写褉褍谐 锌芯褔褌懈 蟹邪斜褉邪胁械薪邪 芯褌 胁褋懈褔泻懈 懈谢懈 锌褗泻 芯斜芯卸械褋褌胁褟胁邪薪邪.
鈥炐澬感� 薪械 芯褋褌邪胁邪屑械 屑褗褉褌胁懈 蟹邪 写褗谢谐芯. 小谢械写 泻邪褌芯 屑芯褟褌 袥褞谐械褉 屑械 懈蟹锌褉邪褌懈 胁 芯褌胁褗写薪芯褌芯, 褋邪屑芯 褋谢械写 屑懈谐 褖械 屑械 褋锌芯褏芯写懈 褉邪卸写邪薪械褌芯 屑懈, 褋谢械写胁邪褖芯褌芯 锌芯褉械写. 小谢械写 褌褉懈薪邪泄褋械褌 谐芯写懈薪懈 褖械 褋械 褋褉械褖薪械屑 芯褌薪芯胁芯 胁 袚褉械褕邪屑, 褋谢械写 写械褋械褌 褖械 褋械 芯蟹芯胁邪 芯褌薪芯胁芯 胁 褋褗褖邪褌邪 褌邪蟹懈 褋褌邪褟, 褋褌懈褋薪邪谢 褋褗褖懈褟 褌芯蟹懈 锌懈褋褌芯谢械褌, 褖械 褋褗褔懈薪褟胁邪屑 褋褗褖芯褌芯 褌芯胁邪 锌懈褋屑芯 褋 褉械褕懈褌械谢薪芯褋褌, 褋褗胁褗褉褕械薪邪 泻邪褌芯 屑薪芯谐芯谐谢邪胁懈褟 屑懈 褋械泻褋褌械褌...
Sunt lacrim忙 rerum.鈥�
小邪屑懈褟褌 袦懈褔褗谢 胁 懈薪褌械褉胁褞 泻邪蟹胁邪, 褔械 蟹邪写 褉芯屑邪薪邪 薪械 械 懈屑邪谢芯 锌褗褉胁芯薪邪褔邪谢械薪 谐褉邪薪写懈芯蟹械薪 蟹邪屑懈褋褗谢, 邪 锌褉芯褋褌芯 械 懈褋泻邪谢 写邪 薪邪锌懈褕械 薪邪泄-褕邪褕邪胁芯褌芯 懈 屑邪褖邪斜薪芯 薪械褖芯, 泻芯械褌芯 屑褍 褏褉褍屑薪械. 袦懈褋谢褟, 褔械 褌芯胁邪 写芯泻邪蟹胁邪 锌芯褔褌懈 卸械谢褟蟹薪芯褌芯 锌褉邪胁懈谢芯, 褔械 泻芯谢泻芯褌芯 锌貌 薪械 褌懈 锌褍泻邪 泻邪泻胁芯 褖械 泻邪卸械 薪褟泻芯泄 蟹邪 褉邪斜芯褌邪褌邪 褌懈 懈, 芯褋胁芯斜芯写械薪 芯褌 邪屑斜懈褑懈褟褌邪 写邪 鈥炐啃狙佈傂感承叫笛� 薪械褖芯鈥� 褋 薪械褟, 锌褉芯褋褌芯 褋械 芯褋褌邪胁褟褕 薪邪 薪褟泻邪泻褗胁 胁褗褌褉械褕械薪 褉懈褌褗屑, 褌芯谢泻芯胁邪 锌芯胁械褔械 褋懈褟褟褌 褉械蟹褍谢褌邪褌懈褌械.
袪邪蟹泻邪蟹褗褌, 泻芯泄褌芯 薪邪泄-屑薪芯谐芯 屑懈 褏邪褉械褋邪, 斜械褕械 褌芯蟹懈 薪邪 小芯薪屑懈-451. 小褗写斜邪褌邪 薪邪 小芯薪屑懈 褌胁褗褉写械 屑懈 薪邪锌芯屑薪褟褕械 蟹邪 褌邪蟹懈 薪邪 袝屑懈泻芯 芯褌 The Windup Girl 鈥� 懈 芯褌 薪械褟 谢褗褏邪褕械 褋褗褖邪褌邪 芯斜褉械褔械薪芯褋褌. 啸芯褉邪褌邪 褌褉褍写薪芯 锌芯薪邪褋褟褌 薪械褖芯 写邪 械 锌芯-芯褋褗蟹薪邪褌芯 芯褌 褌褟褏 鈥� 薪邪谢懈 褋械 谐芯褉写械械屑, 褔械 褋屑械 械写懈薪褋褌胁械薪懈褟褌 胁懈写, 泻芯泄褌芯 屑芯卸械 写邪 屑懈褋谢懈 懈 褌胁芯褉懈? 袛邪, 邪屑邪 邪泻芯 薪械 械 褌邪泻邪?
鈥炩€� 小褗卸邪谢褟胁邪褌械 谢懈, 褔械 卸懈胁芯褌褗褌 胁懈 锌褉芯褌械褔械 褌邪泻邪?
鈥� 袣邪泻 斜懈褏 屑芯谐谢邪? 小褗卸邪谢械薪懈械褌芯 锌褉械写锌芯谢邪谐邪 褋胁芯斜芯写薪芯 懈蟹斜褉邪薪芯, 薪芯 锌芯谐褉械褕薪芯 写械泄褋褌胁懈械; 胁 屑芯褟褌邪 懈褋褌芯褉懈褟 褋胁芯斜芯写薪邪褌邪 胁芯谢褟 薪械 懈谐褉邪械 薪懈泻邪泻胁邪 褉芯谢褟.鈥�
袙 薪邪褕懈褌械 懈褋褌芯褉懈懈 芯斜邪褔械 褋胁芯斜芯写薪邪褌邪 胁芯谢褟 (邪泻芯 懈蟹芯斜褖芯 屑芯卸械 写邪 褋械 谐芯胁芯褉懈 蟹邪 褌邪泻邪胁邪 泻邪褌械谐芯褉懈褟) 懈屑邪 褋胁芯械褌芯 屑褟褋褌芯 胁 屑懈蟹邪薪褋褑械薪邪. 袣芯泄 斜懈 屑芯谐褗谢 写邪 泻邪卸械 写邪谢懈 袦懈褔褗谢 械 斜懈谢 锌褉邪胁, 锌懈褕械泄泻懈 褋胁芯褟褌邪 鈥炐夹恍靶葱敌缎盒� 锌褉懈褍屑懈褑邪鈥�, 泻邪泻褌芯 褟 薪邪褉懈褔邪 褌芯泄? 袙褋懈褔泻懈 褋械 胁褗褉褌懈屑 锌芯 屑懈薪懈邪褌褞褉薪懈褌械 褋锌懈褉邪谢懈 薪邪 卸懈胁芯褌邪 褋懈 懈 褍褋褌褉械屑薪芯 褋械 薪芯褋懈屑 泻褗屑 泻褉邪褟 懈屑. 啸褍斜邪胁芯 械 写邪 锌芯屑懈褋谢懈屑 懈 蟹邪 芯薪芯胁邪, 泻芯械褌芯 褋褌邪胁邪 褋谢械写 褌芯胁邪. 孝芯 屑芯卸械 写邪 械 锌芯-懈褋褌懈薪褋泻芯, 芯褌泻芯谢泻芯褌芯 褋屑械 褋锌芯褋芯斜薪懈 写邪 褋懈 锌褉械写褋褌邪胁懈屑.
September 1, 2012
I have no idea if the movie version of Cloud Atlas will be any good, but it was worth making just so we could get that excellent . In fact, they probably shouldn鈥檛 even release the movie. Just use the trailer to promote the book. It worked on me because once I saw that thing I couldn鈥檛 get this read fast enough.
An American notary crosses the Pacific and encounters many unsavory characters in the mid-1800s. In 1931 a young man fleeing his creditors cons his way into the home of a respected composer. A female journalists tries to expose a dangerous conspiracy involving a nuclear reactor back in 1975. In the early 21st century an aging publisher finds himself in hot water after his biggest professional success. The near future has an Asian society based on corporations using genetically modified fabricants as slave labor, and the far future finds a young man in Hawaii living a primitive tribal lifestyle playing tour guide to a woman from a place that still has technology.
These are the six stories that David Mitchell links together. They鈥檙e nested one within another and also mirrored in the first and second half of the book. If that鈥檚 all that he accomplished here, then it鈥檇 just be a really clever way to structure a novel, but it鈥檚 the way that Mitchell hit six completely different tones yet uses the same themes in each that the book really shines.
I鈥檓 beyond impressed with the way he made each story feel like it鈥檚 own separate tale. If someone had told me that this was a book written by six different authors, I would have believed it, and each is intriguing in it鈥檚 own right. Themes of slavery and people being controlled in one way or another along with depictions of misused or corrupted power come up again and again, but whether it feels like serious dystopian sci-fi or a beach read thriller, Mitchell makes it all hang together until it really does feel like one epic tale. And the thoughts at the conclusion lead to one of the greatest ending lines I鈥檝e ever read.
I don鈥檛 even think I need to see the movie now.
An American notary crosses the Pacific and encounters many unsavory characters in the mid-1800s. In 1931 a young man fleeing his creditors cons his way into the home of a respected composer. A female journalists tries to expose a dangerous conspiracy involving a nuclear reactor back in 1975. In the early 21st century an aging publisher finds himself in hot water after his biggest professional success. The near future has an Asian society based on corporations using genetically modified fabricants as slave labor, and the far future finds a young man in Hawaii living a primitive tribal lifestyle playing tour guide to a woman from a place that still has technology.
These are the six stories that David Mitchell links together. They鈥檙e nested one within another and also mirrored in the first and second half of the book. If that鈥檚 all that he accomplished here, then it鈥檇 just be a really clever way to structure a novel, but it鈥檚 the way that Mitchell hit six completely different tones yet uses the same themes in each that the book really shines.
I鈥檓 beyond impressed with the way he made each story feel like it鈥檚 own separate tale. If someone had told me that this was a book written by six different authors, I would have believed it, and each is intriguing in it鈥檚 own right. Themes of slavery and people being controlled in one way or another along with depictions of misused or corrupted power come up again and again, but whether it feels like serious dystopian sci-fi or a beach read thriller, Mitchell makes it all hang together until it really does feel like one epic tale. And the thoughts at the conclusion lead to one of the greatest ending lines I鈥檝e ever read.
I don鈥檛 even think I need to see the movie now.
April 13, 2024
Some have claimed this to be a masterwork. Others say it鈥檚 unreadable. For my part, I have more sympathy with the latter view. Before reading the book, I deliberately hadn鈥檛 read any reader reviews, but I had seen the film trailer that seemed to promise a helter skelter race through the ages with the hint of reincarnation and sci-fi shootouts abounding. Well, disappointingly, that's not quite what I found between its pages.
I don鈥檛 mind having to do some thinking when I鈥檓 reading and, as a fan of Haruki Murakami鈥檚 books, I鈥檓 willing to suspend belief and go with the flow, even when I鈥檓 not sure where it鈥檚 going 鈥� or later, where it is I鈥檝e arrived. My problem with this book was that I just didn鈥檛 enjoy the journey, or rather, I didn鈥檛 enjoy most of the journey.
Of the six stories 鈥� all told in a different style and each tale using a vocabulary of its own 鈥� I only really warmed to the account of the British composer evading creditors in 1930鈥檚 Belgium. I found all of the others a bit of a struggle. It is very clever in the way the stories interrupt each other and flow chronologically to halfway and are then completed in the second half of the book in reverse order. And they all are fully completed, with common references popping up and an overall picture forming鈥� if you鈥檝e managed to stay with it long enough. But was it worth the effort? And that's where it fails for me - my answer is no, not really.
I鈥檓 pretty sure I鈥檓 not really clever enough to have fully appreciated this complex offering. I also believe a second reading would (if I could face it) increase my appreciation of the book and allow me to draw out elements I鈥檝e missed. But I鈥檝e subsequently read in-depth reviews from people far more erudite than me, and I鈥檝e yet to glean much more than I had already managed to absorb.
Readers will clearly have their own reaction to this book, and some will take more from it than others. I didn鈥檛 take very much, but I鈥檓 sure others will have a very different experience. Good luck to them, I鈥檓 filing this on my 鈥榯oo fanciful by far鈥� shelf.
I don鈥檛 mind having to do some thinking when I鈥檓 reading and, as a fan of Haruki Murakami鈥檚 books, I鈥檓 willing to suspend belief and go with the flow, even when I鈥檓 not sure where it鈥檚 going 鈥� or later, where it is I鈥檝e arrived. My problem with this book was that I just didn鈥檛 enjoy the journey, or rather, I didn鈥檛 enjoy most of the journey.
Of the six stories 鈥� all told in a different style and each tale using a vocabulary of its own 鈥� I only really warmed to the account of the British composer evading creditors in 1930鈥檚 Belgium. I found all of the others a bit of a struggle. It is very clever in the way the stories interrupt each other and flow chronologically to halfway and are then completed in the second half of the book in reverse order. And they all are fully completed, with common references popping up and an overall picture forming鈥� if you鈥檝e managed to stay with it long enough. But was it worth the effort? And that's where it fails for me - my answer is no, not really.
I鈥檓 pretty sure I鈥檓 not really clever enough to have fully appreciated this complex offering. I also believe a second reading would (if I could face it) increase my appreciation of the book and allow me to draw out elements I鈥檝e missed. But I鈥檝e subsequently read in-depth reviews from people far more erudite than me, and I鈥檝e yet to glean much more than I had already managed to absorb.
Readers will clearly have their own reaction to this book, and some will take more from it than others. I didn鈥檛 take very much, but I鈥檓 sure others will have a very different experience. Good luck to them, I鈥檓 filing this on my 鈥榯oo fanciful by far鈥� shelf.
June 9, 2023
Clever
February 4, 2021
A few pages before the end of Mitchell鈥檚 novel, one of the narrators, a young composer, discloses the unusual structure of his musical 鈥渕asterpiece鈥� 鈥� at it happens, Cloud Atlas is originally the title of a piano sonata:
This simple, yet entirely original idea is, by way of metaphor, the one that governs the whole novel. Mitchell interlocks six stories into a A-B-C-D-E-F/F鈥�-E鈥�-D鈥�-C鈥�-B鈥�-A鈥� Matryoshka / palindromic series. A creative and surprising device that could put Mitchell almost on par with , and .
These six stories are written in different genres: seafaring adventure, spy fiction, science fiction, comedy, etc. Should we try to unravel the symmetrical mosaic of the whole sextet and consider each of these six novellas individually, much of the charm and effect of Mitchell鈥檚 novel would probably vanish. The fifth story, titled 鈥淎n Orison of Sonmi~451鈥�, written as a sci-fi novella (loosely inspired by Soylent Green) is powerful enough and would make an excellent stand-alone; but the rest of the lot can sometimes feel a bit uneven.
Still, interwoven as they are, and spanning across continents and centuries, they map out at their core a vast polyphony on the unrelenting oppression and exploitation of human beings by other human beings. According to Mitchell, it is everywhere and ever-present: on distant colonies, in art and trade, within political and industrial endeavours, in the treatment of vulnerable people, in social inequality. As says one of the characters, probably alluding to or :
All this is, one way or another, the many manifestations of universal cannibalism. Or, to put it in an aphoristic manner: 鈥淭he Weak are Meat the Strong do Eat.鈥� (p. 508)
Yet, Mitchell truly shines as a writer in his ability to give each story 鈥渋ts own language of key, scale and colour鈥�. In other words, he is a true virtuoso of mannerism, able to emulate just as well the style of writing of a 19th-century American mariner (cf. ) or the sci-fi neologisms-ridden lingo of a late-21th-century Korean clone, and every widely different type of language in-between, just as convincingly and with just as much knack and chameleonic finesse. Coming from someone who suffered from a stammer and had a hard time expressing himself as a child, this ability to bend the English language every which way (sometimes almost to the limit of readability) is nothing short of a stroke of wizardry.
Cloud Atlas is probably Mitchell鈥檚 most famous novel, thanks to the 2012 movie adaptation directed by the Wachowskis, with (among others) Tom Hanks and Halle Berry 鈥� it is still in my to-watch list. By the way, Mitchell also worked on the TV Series Sense8 with the same directors. While the LGBT+ themes come undoubtedly from the Wachowskis themselves, the idea of individuals interconnected across great distances is certainly David Mitchell鈥檚 trademark. Better still than the series, though, Cloud Atlas masterfully illustrates this concept.
So, is this whole thing 鈥渞evolutionary or gimmicky?鈥� Shan鈥檛 know until you鈥檝e read it, and by then it鈥檒l be too late. For my money, it鈥檚 probably somewhere in the middle, but I did enjoy this intricate, playful, stimulating novel tremendously.
Spent the fortnight gone in the music room, reworking my year鈥檚 fragments into a 鈥榮extet for overlapping soloists鈥�: piano, clarinet, 鈥檆ello, flute, oboe and violin, each in its own language of key, scale and colour. In the 1st set, each solo is interrupted by its successor: in the 2nd, each interruption is recontinued, in order. Revolutionary or gimmicky? Shan鈥檛 know until it鈥檚 finished, and by then it鈥檒l be too late, but it鈥檚 the 1st thing I think of when I wake, and the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. (Sceptre edition, p. 463)
This simple, yet entirely original idea is, by way of metaphor, the one that governs the whole novel. Mitchell interlocks six stories into a A-B-C-D-E-F/F鈥�-E鈥�-D鈥�-C鈥�-B鈥�-A鈥� Matryoshka / palindromic series. A creative and surprising device that could put Mitchell almost on par with , and .
These six stories are written in different genres: seafaring adventure, spy fiction, science fiction, comedy, etc. Should we try to unravel the symmetrical mosaic of the whole sextet and consider each of these six novellas individually, much of the charm and effect of Mitchell鈥檚 novel would probably vanish. The fifth story, titled 鈥淎n Orison of Sonmi~451鈥�, written as a sci-fi novella (loosely inspired by Soylent Green) is powerful enough and would make an excellent stand-alone; but the rest of the lot can sometimes feel a bit uneven.
Still, interwoven as they are, and spanning across continents and centuries, they map out at their core a vast polyphony on the unrelenting oppression and exploitation of human beings by other human beings. According to Mitchell, it is everywhere and ever-present: on distant colonies, in art and trade, within political and industrial endeavours, in the treatment of vulnerable people, in social inequality. As says one of the characters, probably alluding to or :
The will to power, the backbone of human nature. The threat of violence, the fear of violence, or actual violence, is the instrument of this dreadful will. You can see the will to power in bedrooms, kitchens, factories, unions and the borders of states. (p. 461)
All this is, one way or another, the many manifestations of universal cannibalism. Or, to put it in an aphoristic manner: 鈥淭he Weak are Meat the Strong do Eat.鈥� (p. 508)
Yet, Mitchell truly shines as a writer in his ability to give each story 鈥渋ts own language of key, scale and colour鈥�. In other words, he is a true virtuoso of mannerism, able to emulate just as well the style of writing of a 19th-century American mariner (cf. ) or the sci-fi neologisms-ridden lingo of a late-21th-century Korean clone, and every widely different type of language in-between, just as convincingly and with just as much knack and chameleonic finesse. Coming from someone who suffered from a stammer and had a hard time expressing himself as a child, this ability to bend the English language every which way (sometimes almost to the limit of readability) is nothing short of a stroke of wizardry.
Cloud Atlas is probably Mitchell鈥檚 most famous novel, thanks to the 2012 movie adaptation directed by the Wachowskis, with (among others) Tom Hanks and Halle Berry 鈥� it is still in my to-watch list. By the way, Mitchell also worked on the TV Series Sense8 with the same directors. While the LGBT+ themes come undoubtedly from the Wachowskis themselves, the idea of individuals interconnected across great distances is certainly David Mitchell鈥檚 trademark. Better still than the series, though, Cloud Atlas masterfully illustrates this concept.
So, is this whole thing 鈥渞evolutionary or gimmicky?鈥� Shan鈥檛 know until you鈥檝e read it, and by then it鈥檒l be too late. For my money, it鈥檚 probably somewhere in the middle, but I did enjoy this intricate, playful, stimulating novel tremendously.
August 12, 2016
In Memory of Double Bills
I saw a lot of double bills in the heyday of independent cinemas.
They weren鈥檛 just two current release films that had been packaged to eke out some extra dollars for the exhibitor. They were carefully curated films that shared a theme and formed part of a whole season of similarly matched films.
Usually, the season was promoted by a poster that illustrated each film with a fifty word capsule review. For many years, I kept these posters in a folder, at least until I got married and had to start hiding what I hoarded.
The double bills themselves were where I learned about the greats of film culture. Hitchcock, Ford, Godard, Truffaut, Woody Allen, etc.
They whetted an appetite that continues to this day.
The thing about a double bill is that the films could be enjoyed individually, but they also fed meaning to each other.
One of my favourite matches was Antonioni鈥檚 鈥淭he Passenger鈥� and Polanski鈥檚 鈥淭he Tenant鈥�, both of which involved a character adopting the persona of another character and then embarking on a journey or travelling under the guise of the other character.
Both films benefited from the juxtaposition, and it made for great discussions between friends when you emerged from the cinema.
Almost 20 years later, I was sitting next to a very appealing, strong, independent, older woman at a film industry lunch, and I told her this story.
She smiled and said, 鈥淭hat was me. I curated those seasons.鈥�
She was then a co-owner of one of the most successful chains of independent cinemas. Unfortunately, her chain didn鈥檛 survive the multiplex, nor did double bills, as far as I know.
Film culture is the poorer for it. It can鈥檛 just be learned from books, it must be learned in front of a screen, preferably a big one.
Why Don鈥檛 You Show Me?
I鈥檝e started with this diversion, because, even though this is my second reading of 鈥淐loud Atlas鈥� and the first was well before I learned there was to be a film, the novel always struck me as filmic.
If it wasn鈥檛 made to be filmed (however challenging the prospect), it seemed to be influenced by film, particularly genre film, and possibly the sort of double bills that I had consumed.
I love the fact that David Mitchell鈥檚 works ooze film and cultural literacy, not to mention cross-cultural diversity.
It鈥檚 one of the things I hope doesn鈥檛 disappear as audiences become less genre and art form diverse.
Just as James Joyce alluded to the Classics in 鈥淯lysses鈥�, many modern novelists allude to diverse art forms.
If we restrict our interest to only one or a few, we might not 鈥済et鈥� the allusions. And not getting them, we might not pay sufficient attention.
To this extent, I'd argue that 鈥淐loud Atlas鈥� isn't so much a difficult novel, as it just requires an attentive reader.
I鈥檝e Tried and I鈥檝e Tried and I鈥檓 Still Mystified
I originally rated the novel three stars on the basis of a reading several years ago, before I joined Good Reads.
Having re-read it with a view to a review, I鈥檝e upgraded my review to five stars. So what happened?
When I finished my re-read, I had decided to rate it four stars.
There were things I still didn鈥檛 get, even though they were there on the page in front of me.
As I collated my notes, things started to drop into place and I started to get things, at least I think I did.
My initial reservation was that there were six stories juxtaposed in one book, and I wasn鈥檛 convinced that they related to each other adequately.
If together they were supposed to constitute a patchwork quilt, some patches jarred, others weren鈥檛 stitched together adequately. I couldn鈥檛 see the relationship. It wasn鈥檛 manifesting itself to me.
I didn鈥檛 think Mitchell had done enough to sew the parts together. I couldn鈥檛 understand why the six films on the same bill had been collected together. I didn鈥檛 know what the glue was. There was no bond. They were all just there.
If they were supposed to be connected, I couldn鈥檛 see the connection.
Who was to blame: Mitchell or me? Was anyone to blame, or did I just need to exert myself a bit harder?
In a way, this review is the story of how I exerted myself a bit harder, got back on top and managed to give the author his due.
Spoilers
I'll try to discuss the novel with minimal plot spoilers. However, many of the themes revolve around aspects of the plot in the six stories.
In an effort to reduce spoilers, I鈥檝e limited the mention of specific stories and characters.
I apologize if this detracts from your enjoyment of the review or your desire to read the novel.
鈥漌here is the Fundamental Mystery?鈥�
There is nothing fundamentally wrong with a mystery or the fact that a mystery might retain its status after some investigation.
Not all mysteries are intended to be worked out or revealed to all. Some things are intended to remain secret. Some things need a password or a code to unlock them. Some things just require a bit of effort or charm or both.
The thing about 鈥淐loud Atlas鈥� is that it consists of six quite disparate stories (a 鈥淐loud Atlas Sextet鈥� in its own right), five of which have been broken into two.
The result is 11 sections, ten of which surround the unbroken sixth story in the middle.
Without disclosing the titles of the stories, they follow the following timeline:
鈥� 1850;
鈥� 1931;
鈥� 1976;
鈥� The present (?);
鈥� A highly corporatized future; and
鈥� A post apocalyptic future (the middle story).
Once you鈥檝e got half-way, the book works back towards 1850 in reverse order.
Getting your head around this structure is the first task. The second is to work out the relationship between the stories. The third is to work out how to pull the whole thing together into one integrated whole.
Choosing a Structural Metaphor
The structure has given rise to metaphors like Russian or Matryoshka dolls or Chinese boxes.
Each successive story is nested or nestled within the next. [One character鈥檚 letters survive the burglary of a hotel room, because they are nestled in a copy of Gideon鈥檚 Bible.]
Another way to think of it is to pretend that you have opened up six separate books to the middle pages, then sat them on top of each other, starting with the oldest on the bottom, and then bound them together, so now hopefully you鈥檝e got one idea of the structure.
A third way to look at the structure metaphorically is to see the past as embracing the present, and the present embracing the future.
Thus, the past has within it the potential of the present, and the present has within it the potential of the future.
This metaphor raises the second question of the relationship between the layers.
Does one determine the next? Does the past determine the future? What is the relationship or connection?
Where does Mitchell and his novel stand on the continuum between Determinism and Free Will?
Interconnectedness
Apart from the question of how all 11 sections contribute to an integrated whole, there is a narrative connectedness between the 11 sections.
Characters or objects from one section reappear in others as important narrative elements. In a way, they are like screws or pegs that lock one part of a piece of modular furniture into another, so that the whole doesn鈥檛 dissemble.
Various characters (in five out of the six stories) have a comet-shaped birthmark between their shoulder-blade and collarbone.
They also share other personal characteristics, despite not necessarily sharing genders, and there is a suggestion that the five characters with birthmarks might be reincarnations of the same soul.
From a narrative point of view:
鈥� the Journals in Story 1 are found in Story 2.
鈥� The Letters in Story 2 are written to a character in Story 3.
鈥� The music in Story 2 is heard in Story 3. (When Luisa Rey hears the music, she feels that she might have been present when it was composed, hence the implication that she might be a reincarnation of the composer, Robert Frobisher.)
鈥� Story 3 is submitted to a character in Story 4 for publication.
鈥� The character in Story 4 writes a memoir that is filmed, and watched by the character in Story 5.
鈥� An interview with the character in Story 5 is recorded and becomes the 鈥渉oly book鈥� or 鈥渟cripture鈥� for a post-apocalyptic religion in Story 6 (even though it is an audio-visual work, not a written work, embodied on an 鈥渙rison鈥�).
Eternal Recurrence in and of Time
Time is a silent partner in the narrative of the novel.
We start in the past and move forward into the future, before reversing or heading backwards (or forwards into the past?), so that eventually we come full circle:
"Time鈥檚 Arrow became Time鈥檚 Boomerang."
In this sense, the narrative is revolutionary, if not necessarily gimmicky.
We must assume that the cycle continues to roll or revolve in this fashion ad infinitum.
In Nietzsche鈥檚 words, it is an "Eternal Recurrence":
"Everything becomes and recurs eternally - escape is impossible! - Supposing we could judge value, what follows? The idea of recurrence as a selective principle, in the service of strength (and barbarism!!)": Nietzsche
Culture and Civilization, whether good or evil, positive or negative, sophisticated or barbaric, are conveyed through time by people.
Human beings are vessels through which human nature passes into the future, from the past via the present (and vice versa, it seems).
Each of us carries aspects of human nature, ideas, beliefs, biases, prejudices, goals, ambitions, aspirations, appetites, hunger, thirst, desire, the need for more, the inability to be satisfied, the inability to be appeased.
Human nature is concrete, permanent, eternal, continuous, recurring.
Individuals are separate, discrete, temporary, dispensable, ephemeral.
Like an oak tree, we are born, we grow, we die.
A body is just a vehicle for human nature (within a family, its DNA).
You can see that, if each of us is a vehicle, then when we pass the baton onto the next runner, we (or the human nature that we carried) is reincarnated in our successor.
If our characteristics continue, they succeed, instead of succumbing.
In this sense, a comet birthmark is just the mark or marque or ink or stain that we pass onto our successor as evidence of the eternal chain of which each of us is but a link.
You Can鈥檛 Stop Me, Because I am Determined
It鈥檚 arguable that there is a determinism or fatalism going on here.
However, I think Mitchell acknowledges Free Will as well, again, both in a positive and a negative sense.
Much of the novel is concerned with the Nietzschean will to power, the ascent to power, the acquisition and abuse of power, the use of power to victimize and oppress.
The character, Alberto Grimaldi, the CEO of the Corporation Seaboard Power (surely the name is well chosen) argues:
"Power. What do we mean? 鈥楾he ability to determine another man鈥檚 luck.鈥�...
"Yet how is it some men attain mastery over others while the vast majority live and die as minions, as livestock? The answer is a holy trinity.
"First: God-given gifts of charisma.
"Second: the discipline to nurture these gifts to maturity, for though humanity鈥檚 topsoil id fertile with talent, only one seed in ten thousand will ever flower 鈥� for want of discipline鈥�
"Third: the will to power.
"This is the enigma at the core of the various destinies of men. What drives some to accrue power where the majority of their compatriots lose, mishandle, or eschew power? Is it addiction? Wealth? Survival? Natural selection? I propose these are all pretexts and results, not the root cause.
"The only answer can be 鈥楾here is no 鈥榃hy鈥�. This is our nature. 鈥榃ho鈥� and 鈥榃hat鈥� run deeper than 鈥榃hy?鈥� "
While human nature shapes us, I don鈥檛 think Mitchell is positing a completely Determinist cosmos.
What people do impacts on their Fate.
Some rise to the top as Supermen or Ubermenschen, some fall to the bottom as Downstrata or Untermenschen.
Some Men are predators, others victims. Some rise, some fall. In between, some are 鈥渉alf-fallen鈥�, Mitchell calls them the 鈥淒iagonal People鈥�.
Like the character Isaac Sachs, their tragic flaw is that they are 鈥渢oo cowardly to be a warrior, but not enough of a coward to lie down and roll over like a good doggy.鈥�
Virtue Incarnate (or Reincarnate?)
Mitchell鈥檚 six stories feature heroes (of sorts), five of whom are or might be reincarnations of the same soul.
Each of them has the courage to fight against evil or power or oppression or cruelty.
They are idealists, liberals, [affirmative] activists, boat rockers, shit-stirrers, young hacks, non-conformists, dissidents, rebels, revolutionaries, rogues, rascals, 鈥減icaros鈥� (the Spanish word from which the word 鈥減icaresque鈥� derives), messiahs and naughty boys.
They eschew duplicity, dishonesty and falseness, they seek authenticity, honesty and truth:
"Truth is the gold."
"Truth is singular. Its 鈥榲ersions鈥� are mistruths."
"The true true is presher鈥檔鈥檙arer鈥檔 diamonds."
They oppose power, corruption, and lies, tyranny and mutation. [They must be fans of New Order and Blue Oyster Cult.]
Talkin鈥� About a Revolution
Our heroes create messages and symbols to overcome tyranny: journals, epistles, memoirs, novels, music, films, video confessions, 鈥渙risons鈥� (a word that actually means 鈥減rayers鈥�), scripts, catechisms, declarations, even new post-apocalyptic languages.
Like hippies ("the love and peace generation"), they oppose mainstream culture with their own counter-cultural artifacts, as if the reincarnated souls, the Grateful Living, are perpetuating the Grateful Dead.
The eponymous artwork, the "Cloud Atlas Sextet", is composed by Robert Frobisher, a bisexual wunderkind:
"Cloud Atlas holds my life, is my life, now I鈥檓 a spent firework; but at least I鈥檝e been a firework."
Just like Guy Fawkes, it鈥檚 explosive and revolutionary.
Frobisher composes the work while engaged as an amenuensis for the older composer Vyvyan Ayrs, who believes that the role of the musician or artist is to 鈥渕ake civilization ever more resplendent鈥�.
Perhaps ingenuously, for one of the reincarnates, Frobisher counters:
鈥淗ow vulgar, this hankering after immortality, how vain, how false. Composers are mere scribblers of cave paintings. One writes music because winter is eternal and because, if one didn鈥檛, the wolves and blizzards would be at one鈥檚 throat all the sooner.鈥�
His own composition resounds throughout the entire novel. It also describes the central metafictional device that Mitchell uses to construct his fiction:
"A sextet for overlapping soloists: piano, clarinet, 鈥榗ello, flute, oboe, and violin, each in its own language of key, scale and colour. In the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor: in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order. Revolutionary or gimmicky? Shan鈥檛 know until it鈥檚 finished, and by then it鈥檒l be too late, but it鈥檚 the first thing I think of when I wake, and the last thing I think of before I fall asleep, even if J is in my bed. She should understand, the artist lives in two worlds."
Artists might live in a private world and a public world, but there is a sense in which they also live both in the present and in the future.
An Atlas of Clouds
At a more metaphorical level, the Atlas contains maps of the human nature that Mitchell describes.
The Clouds carry the vagaries of human nature across time, encircling the world on their journey, obscuring and frustrating our aspirations and desires:
"Three or four times only in my youth did I glimpse the Joyous Isles, before they were lost to fogs, depressions, cold fronts, ill winds, and contrary tides... I mistook them for adulthood. Assuming they were a fixed feature in my life's voyage, I neglected to record their latitude, their longitude, their approach. Young ruddy fool. What wouldn't I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds."
Revolutionary or Gimmicky?
Mitchell directly asks us to consider whether his own work is gimmicky.
Superficially, it is, but what finally convinced me that the novel deserves five stars is a conviction that his subject matter and his metafictional devices are genuinely and effectively stitched together.
It wasn鈥檛 easy to come by this realization. I had to work on it, but it was worth it.
Men and Women and Eroticism
Women play a significant role as both characters and subject matter in the novel.
To a certain extent, they represent an alternative to the corrupt corporate culture symbolized by Seaboard Power (even though its Head of Publicity is a woman):
"Men invented money. Women invented mutual aid."
There is a sense in which men [males] are driven by the hunger, the acquisitiveness, at the heart of the novel鈥檚 concerns, far more so than women:
鈥漎ay, Old Un鈥檚 Smart mastered sicks, miles, seeds an鈥� made miracles ord鈥檔ary, but it din鈥檛 master one thing, nay, a hunger in the hearts o鈥� humans, yay, a hunger for more鈥h, more gear, more food, faster speeds, longer lifes, easier lifes, more power, yay.鈥�
Still, men and women still get into bed with each other, and the sexual encounters in the novel are usually either entertaining or slyly erotic, no matter how economically they are described:
鈥滱ccepted this proxy fig leaf cum olive branch and our lovemaking that night was almost affectionate.鈥�
鈥漁ur sex was joyless, graceless, and necessarily improvised, but it was an act of the living. Stars of sweat on Hae-Joo鈥檚 back were his gift to me, and I harvested them on my tongue.鈥�
[For all the talk of comet-shaped birthmarks, this view of sex as an act of the living will stay with me for the rest of my life, even when I can no longer lift myself up on my elbows.]
"Eva, Because her name is a synonym for temptation...all my life, sophisticated idiotic women have taken it upon themselves to understand me, to cure me, but Eva knows I'm terra incognita and explores me unhurriedly...Because her laughter spurts through a blowhole in the top of her head and sprays all over the morning...here she is, in these soundproofed chambers of my heart."
And isn鈥檛 this exactly what life is all about?
To be understood, to be cured, to be explored (unhurriedly), to be laughed at, to be sprayed all over, to be in love, in the soundproofed chambers of your heart.
David Mitchell, this image alone deserves five stars.
SOUNDTRACK:
Jordi Savall - "Por Que Llorax Blanca Nina"(Sephardic Jewish music from Sarajevo)"
This music is playing in the Lost Chord record store in the novel.
Tracey Chapman 鈥� "Talkin鈥� About a Revolution"
"Don鈥檛 you know
They're talkin' about a revolution.
It sounds like a whisper.
Poor people gonna rise up
And get their share."
Bob Dylan - "Shelter From the Storm"
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Joni Mitchell - "Both Sides Now"
I've looked at clouds from both sides now...
+Post 125
I saw a lot of double bills in the heyday of independent cinemas.
They weren鈥檛 just two current release films that had been packaged to eke out some extra dollars for the exhibitor. They were carefully curated films that shared a theme and formed part of a whole season of similarly matched films.
Usually, the season was promoted by a poster that illustrated each film with a fifty word capsule review. For many years, I kept these posters in a folder, at least until I got married and had to start hiding what I hoarded.
The double bills themselves were where I learned about the greats of film culture. Hitchcock, Ford, Godard, Truffaut, Woody Allen, etc.
They whetted an appetite that continues to this day.
The thing about a double bill is that the films could be enjoyed individually, but they also fed meaning to each other.
One of my favourite matches was Antonioni鈥檚 鈥淭he Passenger鈥� and Polanski鈥檚 鈥淭he Tenant鈥�, both of which involved a character adopting the persona of another character and then embarking on a journey or travelling under the guise of the other character.
Both films benefited from the juxtaposition, and it made for great discussions between friends when you emerged from the cinema.
Almost 20 years later, I was sitting next to a very appealing, strong, independent, older woman at a film industry lunch, and I told her this story.
She smiled and said, 鈥淭hat was me. I curated those seasons.鈥�
She was then a co-owner of one of the most successful chains of independent cinemas. Unfortunately, her chain didn鈥檛 survive the multiplex, nor did double bills, as far as I know.
Film culture is the poorer for it. It can鈥檛 just be learned from books, it must be learned in front of a screen, preferably a big one.
Why Don鈥檛 You Show Me?
I鈥檝e started with this diversion, because, even though this is my second reading of 鈥淐loud Atlas鈥� and the first was well before I learned there was to be a film, the novel always struck me as filmic.
If it wasn鈥檛 made to be filmed (however challenging the prospect), it seemed to be influenced by film, particularly genre film, and possibly the sort of double bills that I had consumed.
I love the fact that David Mitchell鈥檚 works ooze film and cultural literacy, not to mention cross-cultural diversity.
It鈥檚 one of the things I hope doesn鈥檛 disappear as audiences become less genre and art form diverse.
Just as James Joyce alluded to the Classics in 鈥淯lysses鈥�, many modern novelists allude to diverse art forms.
If we restrict our interest to only one or a few, we might not 鈥済et鈥� the allusions. And not getting them, we might not pay sufficient attention.
To this extent, I'd argue that 鈥淐loud Atlas鈥� isn't so much a difficult novel, as it just requires an attentive reader.
I鈥檝e Tried and I鈥檝e Tried and I鈥檓 Still Mystified
I originally rated the novel three stars on the basis of a reading several years ago, before I joined Good Reads.
Having re-read it with a view to a review, I鈥檝e upgraded my review to five stars. So what happened?
When I finished my re-read, I had decided to rate it four stars.
There were things I still didn鈥檛 get, even though they were there on the page in front of me.
As I collated my notes, things started to drop into place and I started to get things, at least I think I did.
My initial reservation was that there were six stories juxtaposed in one book, and I wasn鈥檛 convinced that they related to each other adequately.
If together they were supposed to constitute a patchwork quilt, some patches jarred, others weren鈥檛 stitched together adequately. I couldn鈥檛 see the relationship. It wasn鈥檛 manifesting itself to me.
I didn鈥檛 think Mitchell had done enough to sew the parts together. I couldn鈥檛 understand why the six films on the same bill had been collected together. I didn鈥檛 know what the glue was. There was no bond. They were all just there.
If they were supposed to be connected, I couldn鈥檛 see the connection.
Who was to blame: Mitchell or me? Was anyone to blame, or did I just need to exert myself a bit harder?
In a way, this review is the story of how I exerted myself a bit harder, got back on top and managed to give the author his due.
Spoilers
I'll try to discuss the novel with minimal plot spoilers. However, many of the themes revolve around aspects of the plot in the six stories.
In an effort to reduce spoilers, I鈥檝e limited the mention of specific stories and characters.
I apologize if this detracts from your enjoyment of the review or your desire to read the novel.
鈥漌here is the Fundamental Mystery?鈥�
There is nothing fundamentally wrong with a mystery or the fact that a mystery might retain its status after some investigation.
Not all mysteries are intended to be worked out or revealed to all. Some things are intended to remain secret. Some things need a password or a code to unlock them. Some things just require a bit of effort or charm or both.
The thing about 鈥淐loud Atlas鈥� is that it consists of six quite disparate stories (a 鈥淐loud Atlas Sextet鈥� in its own right), five of which have been broken into two.
The result is 11 sections, ten of which surround the unbroken sixth story in the middle.
Without disclosing the titles of the stories, they follow the following timeline:
鈥� 1850;
鈥� 1931;
鈥� 1976;
鈥� The present (?);
鈥� A highly corporatized future; and
鈥� A post apocalyptic future (the middle story).
Once you鈥檝e got half-way, the book works back towards 1850 in reverse order.
Getting your head around this structure is the first task. The second is to work out the relationship between the stories. The third is to work out how to pull the whole thing together into one integrated whole.
Choosing a Structural Metaphor
The structure has given rise to metaphors like Russian or Matryoshka dolls or Chinese boxes.
Each successive story is nested or nestled within the next. [One character鈥檚 letters survive the burglary of a hotel room, because they are nestled in a copy of Gideon鈥檚 Bible.]
Another way to think of it is to pretend that you have opened up six separate books to the middle pages, then sat them on top of each other, starting with the oldest on the bottom, and then bound them together, so now hopefully you鈥檝e got one idea of the structure.
A third way to look at the structure metaphorically is to see the past as embracing the present, and the present embracing the future.
Thus, the past has within it the potential of the present, and the present has within it the potential of the future.
This metaphor raises the second question of the relationship between the layers.
Does one determine the next? Does the past determine the future? What is the relationship or connection?
Where does Mitchell and his novel stand on the continuum between Determinism and Free Will?
Interconnectedness
Apart from the question of how all 11 sections contribute to an integrated whole, there is a narrative connectedness between the 11 sections.
Characters or objects from one section reappear in others as important narrative elements. In a way, they are like screws or pegs that lock one part of a piece of modular furniture into another, so that the whole doesn鈥檛 dissemble.
Various characters (in five out of the six stories) have a comet-shaped birthmark between their shoulder-blade and collarbone.
They also share other personal characteristics, despite not necessarily sharing genders, and there is a suggestion that the five characters with birthmarks might be reincarnations of the same soul.
From a narrative point of view:
鈥� the Journals in Story 1 are found in Story 2.
鈥� The Letters in Story 2 are written to a character in Story 3.
鈥� The music in Story 2 is heard in Story 3. (When Luisa Rey hears the music, she feels that she might have been present when it was composed, hence the implication that she might be a reincarnation of the composer, Robert Frobisher.)
鈥� Story 3 is submitted to a character in Story 4 for publication.
鈥� The character in Story 4 writes a memoir that is filmed, and watched by the character in Story 5.
鈥� An interview with the character in Story 5 is recorded and becomes the 鈥渉oly book鈥� or 鈥渟cripture鈥� for a post-apocalyptic religion in Story 6 (even though it is an audio-visual work, not a written work, embodied on an 鈥渙rison鈥�).
Eternal Recurrence in and of Time
Time is a silent partner in the narrative of the novel.
We start in the past and move forward into the future, before reversing or heading backwards (or forwards into the past?), so that eventually we come full circle:
"Time鈥檚 Arrow became Time鈥檚 Boomerang."
In this sense, the narrative is revolutionary, if not necessarily gimmicky.
We must assume that the cycle continues to roll or revolve in this fashion ad infinitum.
In Nietzsche鈥檚 words, it is an "Eternal Recurrence":
"Everything becomes and recurs eternally - escape is impossible! - Supposing we could judge value, what follows? The idea of recurrence as a selective principle, in the service of strength (and barbarism!!)": Nietzsche
Culture and Civilization, whether good or evil, positive or negative, sophisticated or barbaric, are conveyed through time by people.
Human beings are vessels through which human nature passes into the future, from the past via the present (and vice versa, it seems).
Each of us carries aspects of human nature, ideas, beliefs, biases, prejudices, goals, ambitions, aspirations, appetites, hunger, thirst, desire, the need for more, the inability to be satisfied, the inability to be appeased.
Human nature is concrete, permanent, eternal, continuous, recurring.
Individuals are separate, discrete, temporary, dispensable, ephemeral.
Like an oak tree, we are born, we grow, we die.
A body is just a vehicle for human nature (within a family, its DNA).
You can see that, if each of us is a vehicle, then when we pass the baton onto the next runner, we (or the human nature that we carried) is reincarnated in our successor.
If our characteristics continue, they succeed, instead of succumbing.
In this sense, a comet birthmark is just the mark or marque or ink or stain that we pass onto our successor as evidence of the eternal chain of which each of us is but a link.
You Can鈥檛 Stop Me, Because I am Determined
It鈥檚 arguable that there is a determinism or fatalism going on here.
However, I think Mitchell acknowledges Free Will as well, again, both in a positive and a negative sense.
Much of the novel is concerned with the Nietzschean will to power, the ascent to power, the acquisition and abuse of power, the use of power to victimize and oppress.
The character, Alberto Grimaldi, the CEO of the Corporation Seaboard Power (surely the name is well chosen) argues:
"Power. What do we mean? 鈥楾he ability to determine another man鈥檚 luck.鈥�...
"Yet how is it some men attain mastery over others while the vast majority live and die as minions, as livestock? The answer is a holy trinity.
"First: God-given gifts of charisma.
"Second: the discipline to nurture these gifts to maturity, for though humanity鈥檚 topsoil id fertile with talent, only one seed in ten thousand will ever flower 鈥� for want of discipline鈥�
"Third: the will to power.
"This is the enigma at the core of the various destinies of men. What drives some to accrue power where the majority of their compatriots lose, mishandle, or eschew power? Is it addiction? Wealth? Survival? Natural selection? I propose these are all pretexts and results, not the root cause.
"The only answer can be 鈥楾here is no 鈥榃hy鈥�. This is our nature. 鈥榃ho鈥� and 鈥榃hat鈥� run deeper than 鈥榃hy?鈥� "
While human nature shapes us, I don鈥檛 think Mitchell is positing a completely Determinist cosmos.
What people do impacts on their Fate.
Some rise to the top as Supermen or Ubermenschen, some fall to the bottom as Downstrata or Untermenschen.
Some Men are predators, others victims. Some rise, some fall. In between, some are 鈥渉alf-fallen鈥�, Mitchell calls them the 鈥淒iagonal People鈥�.
Like the character Isaac Sachs, their tragic flaw is that they are 鈥渢oo cowardly to be a warrior, but not enough of a coward to lie down and roll over like a good doggy.鈥�
Virtue Incarnate (or Reincarnate?)
Mitchell鈥檚 six stories feature heroes (of sorts), five of whom are or might be reincarnations of the same soul.
Each of them has the courage to fight against evil or power or oppression or cruelty.
They are idealists, liberals, [affirmative] activists, boat rockers, shit-stirrers, young hacks, non-conformists, dissidents, rebels, revolutionaries, rogues, rascals, 鈥減icaros鈥� (the Spanish word from which the word 鈥減icaresque鈥� derives), messiahs and naughty boys.
They eschew duplicity, dishonesty and falseness, they seek authenticity, honesty and truth:
"Truth is the gold."
"Truth is singular. Its 鈥榲ersions鈥� are mistruths."
"The true true is presher鈥檔鈥檙arer鈥檔 diamonds."
They oppose power, corruption, and lies, tyranny and mutation. [They must be fans of New Order and Blue Oyster Cult.]
Talkin鈥� About a Revolution
Our heroes create messages and symbols to overcome tyranny: journals, epistles, memoirs, novels, music, films, video confessions, 鈥渙risons鈥� (a word that actually means 鈥減rayers鈥�), scripts, catechisms, declarations, even new post-apocalyptic languages.
Like hippies ("the love and peace generation"), they oppose mainstream culture with their own counter-cultural artifacts, as if the reincarnated souls, the Grateful Living, are perpetuating the Grateful Dead.
The eponymous artwork, the "Cloud Atlas Sextet", is composed by Robert Frobisher, a bisexual wunderkind:
"Cloud Atlas holds my life, is my life, now I鈥檓 a spent firework; but at least I鈥檝e been a firework."
Just like Guy Fawkes, it鈥檚 explosive and revolutionary.
Frobisher composes the work while engaged as an amenuensis for the older composer Vyvyan Ayrs, who believes that the role of the musician or artist is to 鈥渕ake civilization ever more resplendent鈥�.
Perhaps ingenuously, for one of the reincarnates, Frobisher counters:
鈥淗ow vulgar, this hankering after immortality, how vain, how false. Composers are mere scribblers of cave paintings. One writes music because winter is eternal and because, if one didn鈥檛, the wolves and blizzards would be at one鈥檚 throat all the sooner.鈥�
His own composition resounds throughout the entire novel. It also describes the central metafictional device that Mitchell uses to construct his fiction:
"A sextet for overlapping soloists: piano, clarinet, 鈥榗ello, flute, oboe, and violin, each in its own language of key, scale and colour. In the first set, each solo is interrupted by its successor: in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order. Revolutionary or gimmicky? Shan鈥檛 know until it鈥檚 finished, and by then it鈥檒l be too late, but it鈥檚 the first thing I think of when I wake, and the last thing I think of before I fall asleep, even if J is in my bed. She should understand, the artist lives in two worlds."
Artists might live in a private world and a public world, but there is a sense in which they also live both in the present and in the future.
An Atlas of Clouds
At a more metaphorical level, the Atlas contains maps of the human nature that Mitchell describes.
The Clouds carry the vagaries of human nature across time, encircling the world on their journey, obscuring and frustrating our aspirations and desires:
"Three or four times only in my youth did I glimpse the Joyous Isles, before they were lost to fogs, depressions, cold fronts, ill winds, and contrary tides... I mistook them for adulthood. Assuming they were a fixed feature in my life's voyage, I neglected to record their latitude, their longitude, their approach. Young ruddy fool. What wouldn't I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds."
Revolutionary or Gimmicky?
Mitchell directly asks us to consider whether his own work is gimmicky.
Superficially, it is, but what finally convinced me that the novel deserves five stars is a conviction that his subject matter and his metafictional devices are genuinely and effectively stitched together.
It wasn鈥檛 easy to come by this realization. I had to work on it, but it was worth it.
Men and Women and Eroticism
Women play a significant role as both characters and subject matter in the novel.
To a certain extent, they represent an alternative to the corrupt corporate culture symbolized by Seaboard Power (even though its Head of Publicity is a woman):
"Men invented money. Women invented mutual aid."
There is a sense in which men [males] are driven by the hunger, the acquisitiveness, at the heart of the novel鈥檚 concerns, far more so than women:
鈥漎ay, Old Un鈥檚 Smart mastered sicks, miles, seeds an鈥� made miracles ord鈥檔ary, but it din鈥檛 master one thing, nay, a hunger in the hearts o鈥� humans, yay, a hunger for more鈥h, more gear, more food, faster speeds, longer lifes, easier lifes, more power, yay.鈥�
Still, men and women still get into bed with each other, and the sexual encounters in the novel are usually either entertaining or slyly erotic, no matter how economically they are described:
鈥滱ccepted this proxy fig leaf cum olive branch and our lovemaking that night was almost affectionate.鈥�
鈥漁ur sex was joyless, graceless, and necessarily improvised, but it was an act of the living. Stars of sweat on Hae-Joo鈥檚 back were his gift to me, and I harvested them on my tongue.鈥�
[For all the talk of comet-shaped birthmarks, this view of sex as an act of the living will stay with me for the rest of my life, even when I can no longer lift myself up on my elbows.]
"Eva, Because her name is a synonym for temptation...all my life, sophisticated idiotic women have taken it upon themselves to understand me, to cure me, but Eva knows I'm terra incognita and explores me unhurriedly...Because her laughter spurts through a blowhole in the top of her head and sprays all over the morning...here she is, in these soundproofed chambers of my heart."
And isn鈥檛 this exactly what life is all about?
To be understood, to be cured, to be explored (unhurriedly), to be laughed at, to be sprayed all over, to be in love, in the soundproofed chambers of your heart.
David Mitchell, this image alone deserves five stars.
SOUNDTRACK:
Jordi Savall - "Por Que Llorax Blanca Nina"(Sephardic Jewish music from Sarajevo)"
This music is playing in the Lost Chord record store in the novel.
Tracey Chapman 鈥� "Talkin鈥� About a Revolution"
"Don鈥檛 you know
They're talkin' about a revolution.
It sounds like a whisper.
Poor people gonna rise up
And get their share."
Bob Dylan - "Shelter From the Storm"
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."
Joni Mitchell - "Both Sides Now"
I've looked at clouds from both sides now...
+Post 125
May 16, 2012
I finished the book 10 days ago, and I still hesitate to start this review. The first reason is that I loved the book so much, I am left with a feeling of inadequacy :
The second reason is the nature of the story. I can't begin to explain why I think this is important to me without going into the message / the core of the narrative. All the stories assembled into this map of clouds/beliefs/attitudes are variations on a given theme, and the interrupted nature of the narrative is important in maintaining tension and in cloaking the philosophical foundation of the ensemble. So discussing the hidden message can be consider slightly spoilerish. My preference is to read the books first and come to the discussion forums after I formed my own opinion.
This said, the first comment is that very little in the Cloud Atlas is accidental or irrelevant. If the six stories appear initially random of pointless, I would counsel patience : it will all be made clear, eventually. I cannot claim credit for the following analogies - they are part of the text: the author uses the Matryoshka doll style of embedding one story into another in order to illustrate how the present encompasses the past and is in turn enveloped by the future, while the classical sextet composition explains how each of the six characters (piano, clarinet, cello, flute, oboe, and violin) picks up the main musical theme, give it the instrument's specific tonality and introduces variations and soloist cadenzas.
The books opens with The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing - a narrative of the voyage of an American accountant in the Pacific, cca. 1850. A pious, timid and undemonstrative man, he witnesses the effects of modern civilization on the natives of the Polinesian islands and the harshness of life aboard a sailing ship. The precarity of his health turns him toward introspection in morality disertations in his journal, a journal that will be discovered by the protagonist of the second story ( a plot device that will be repeated with each new main character)
Letters from Zedelghem is set in Belgium in 1930 and follow the picaresque adventures of Robert Frobisher, a young rake spurned by his rich family and forced to abandon his musical studies and live outside the law. Penniless, he flees England and tries to find redemption in the sumptuous estate of a celebrated composer whose poor health may prompt him to accept an assistant (amanuensis - a new word I learned today) . As proof of Mitchell's talent in masking the true intent of this second installment, I didn't care much for Frobisher amoral attitude, despite his humorous snarky comments in the letters, but he became my favorite character of all six after reading the second half of his story.
Composers are merely scribblers of cave paintings. One writes music because winter is eternal and because, if one didn't, the wolves and blizzards would be at one's throat all the sooner.
For a cynic and a crook, Frobisher shows quite a lyrical streak once he encounters love:
Because her laughter spurts through a blowhole in the top of her head and sprays all over the morning. Because a man like me has no business with this substance - beauty - yet here she is, in these soundproofed chambers of my heart.
A character from these letters features in the third story : Half-Lives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery . This one is set in California around 1975 and is another change in form. After an intimate journal and an epistolary exposition, the story is told as an eco thriller of one idealistic journalist fighting the big business bent on destroying the environment and putting thousands of lives at risk.
The unpublished manuscript of Luisa Rey reaches the hands of a contemporary London publisher in the fourth story : The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish . This is another thriller, with a strong flavor of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" . Cavendish is in his 60's, and forced here to admit his age and act accordingly, even if the pill is bitter:
We - by whom I mean anyone over sixty - commit two offenses just by existing. One is lack of Velocity: we drive too slowly, walk too slowly, talk too slowly. The world will do business with dictators, perverts, and drug barons of all stripes, but being slowed down it cannot abide. Our second offence is being Everyman's memento mori. The world can only get comfy in shiny eyed denial if we are out of sight.
With the fifth story we arrive finally at the science-fiction part of the novel. An Orison of Sonmi~451 was my favorite initially, with its portrayal of a dystopian society dominated by consummerism and at the mercy of super-corporations that use genetically altered human clones (fabricants) as indentured laborers while the purebloods enjoy unlimited merchandise and entertainment. As a funny commentary of how fast things change in the world economy, the author mentions among the corporations of the future Sony and Kodak, both of which are in dire straits in 2012, only a couple of years after the novel was written.
The story of Somni reminded me strongly of The Wind-Up Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi, among other classics of SF literature.
The dystopian tale of Somni is followed by the sixth and final installment Sloosha's Crossin' an' Ev'rythin' After a post-apocalyptic story of the survivors of a global holocaust trying to survive among the Hawaiian islands. This is the core, the innermost Russian doll, and the ambitious plans of the author begin to be revealed. The form of this final tale is the one that gave me some slight problems because the apocalypse brought not only the collapse of the economy, but also the degradation of language. The format is the oldest form of storytelling, orally around a campfire. One aspect of the story that initially bothered me was the inclusion of the supernatural in the form of prophecy (I'm developing an allergy to it as a plot device in most of my fantasy books) , but I believe it is quite a smart move of Mitchell used to illustrate the circular nature of history.
After this point, the author ramps up the philosophical discussion and turned most of my expectation on their head. Every page written turns out to be a debate on the Meaning of Life: the nature of civilization, the human nature and the survival of mankind. According to David Mitchell, the battle between good and evil, right and wrong, is fought not in the war rooms of superpowers or in the secret hideouts of secretive organizations bent on world domination, but inside each and every one of us, choosing to give in in the face of aggression or to stand up and affirm the belief in a better option. Starting with the central story, and going back to the first, here are what I consider the relevant quotes:
So, is it better to be savage'n to be Civlized?
What's the naked meanin bhind them two words?
Deeper'n that its this. The savage satfies his needs now. Hes hungry, hell eat. Hes angry, hell knuckly. Hes swellin, hell shoot up a woman. His master is his will, an if his will say-soes, Kill! hell kill. Like fangy animals. [...]
Now the Civlized got the same needs too, but he sees further. Hell eat half his food now, yay, but plant half so he wont go hungry morrow. Hes angry, hell stop'n think why so he wont get angry next time. Hes swellin, well, hes got sisses an daughters what need respectin so hell respect his bros sisses an daughters. His will is his slave, an if his will say-soes, Don't! he wont, nay.
So, I asked gain, is it better to be savage'n to be Civlized?
Listn, savages and Civlized aint divvied by tribes or bliefs or mountain ranges, nay, evry human is both, yay.
-------
Rights are susceptible to subversion, as even granite is susceptible to erosion. [...] In a cycle as old as tribalism, ignorance of Other engenders fear; fear engenders hatred; hatred engenders violence; violence engenders further violence until the only rights, the only law, are whatever is willed by the most powerful.
-------
What sparks war? The Will to power, the backbone of human nature. The threat of violence, the fear of violence, the actual violence is the instrument of this dreadful will. You can see the will to power in bedrooms, kitchens, factories, unions, and the borders of states. Listen to this and remember it. The nation state is merely human nature inflated to monstrous proportions. QED, nations are entities whose laws are written by violence.
------
the weak are meat, the strong do eat.
------
Scholars discern motions in history and formulate these motions into rules that govern the rises and falls of civilizations.
My belief runs contrary, however. To wit: history admits no rules; only outcomes.
What precipitates outcomes? Vicious acts and virtuous acts.
What precipitates acts? Belief.
Belief is both prize & battlefield, within the mind & in the mind's mirror, the world.
[...]
Why fight the natural (oh, weaselly word!) order of things? Why?
Because of this: one fine day, a purely predatory world shall consume itself. Yes, the Devil shall take the hindmost until the foremost is the hindmost. In an individual, selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction.
------
I will end my review with a commentary on the title. I see Cloud Atlas as the antithesis of Atlas Shrugged , probably not intentional on Mitchell's part, but this here is the ultimate argument against selfishness. One of the six characters, looks back at his younger days and muses on the volatility of happyness and meaning:
Three or four times only in my youth did I glimpse the Joyous Isles, before they were lost to fogs, depressions, cold fronts, ill winds, and contrary tides. I mistook them for adulthood. Assuming they were a fixed feature in my life's voyage, I neglected to record their latitude, their longitude, their approach. Young ruddy fool. What wouldn't I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds.
My recommendation - read this and don't give up before the final page because, like Robert Frobisher says, A half-read book is a half-finished love affair
April 8, 2014
Given that to review Cloud Atlas has become a perilous activity in GR, since it can elicit all kinds of backlashes and from a variety of stands, I will only include an innocent declaration of intent.
In respect to the book and to the following incumbents: the author David Mitchell, the publisher, the editors, the printers, any reading groups, any member readers in GR, whether friends or followed or followers, any member of Management in GR, and even, yes! even the new owners of GR.
I, Kalliope of GoodReads, and any other of my possible avatars, both past and future, as well as my mortal and limited self, do not wish to:
Annoy, pester, criticize, torment, blame, madden, provoke, badger, despise, anger, bother, vilify, exasperate, scorn, displease, insult, irritate, tease, mock, taunt, vituperate, reproach, revile, affront, slam, rile, deride, abuse, outrage, irk, offend, vex, bully, belittle, nor show any disrespect to the aforementioned.
Nor do I, Kalliope of GoodReads, and any other of my possible avatars, both past and future, as well as my mortal and limited self, do not wish to:
Congratulate, applaud, cheer, hail, laud, pay homage, honor, admire, eulogize, flatter, sanctify, commemorate, acclaim, glorify, idolize, boost, cherish, venerate, revere, exalt, rave, fete, esteem, praise, celebrate, approve, solemnize, chant, adore, commend, bless, extol, compliment, proclaim, nor endorse anything nor anybody of the aforementioned.
I also wish to add that the above declaration has been submitted with the conviction that it is reliable and that it has been narrated in good faith.
As for my stars鈥� well yes, I鈥檒l have to admit the five stars.
P.S.: I just hope now that with the above disclaimer I shall not fall prey to anyone or to anything and that civilization will continue its proper march undeterred.
In respect to the book and to the following incumbents: the author David Mitchell, the publisher, the editors, the printers, any reading groups, any member readers in GR, whether friends or followed or followers, any member of Management in GR, and even, yes! even the new owners of GR.
I, Kalliope of GoodReads, and any other of my possible avatars, both past and future, as well as my mortal and limited self, do not wish to:
Annoy, pester, criticize, torment, blame, madden, provoke, badger, despise, anger, bother, vilify, exasperate, scorn, displease, insult, irritate, tease, mock, taunt, vituperate, reproach, revile, affront, slam, rile, deride, abuse, outrage, irk, offend, vex, bully, belittle, nor show any disrespect to the aforementioned.
Nor do I, Kalliope of GoodReads, and any other of my possible avatars, both past and future, as well as my mortal and limited self, do not wish to:
Congratulate, applaud, cheer, hail, laud, pay homage, honor, admire, eulogize, flatter, sanctify, commemorate, acclaim, glorify, idolize, boost, cherish, venerate, revere, exalt, rave, fete, esteem, praise, celebrate, approve, solemnize, chant, adore, commend, bless, extol, compliment, proclaim, nor endorse anything nor anybody of the aforementioned.
I also wish to add that the above declaration has been submitted with the conviction that it is reliable and that it has been narrated in good faith.
As for my stars鈥� well yes, I鈥檒l have to admit the five stars.
P.S.: I just hope now that with the above disclaimer I shall not fall prey to anyone or to anything and that civilization will continue its proper march undeterred.
April 2, 2016
1. Counting
I don鈥檛 remember exactly when I learnt to count. It feels like one of my earliest memories, and one of my most profound. Things started to make sense right there and then. That mountain of peas on my plate felt a lot less menacing when I could count that there were only 36 of them. My collection of Dinky Toys was all the more impressive when I realized I had a whopping 24 miniature cars to play with. My enjoyment of candies increased when I realised 5 became 4 and 4 become 0 real quick. I enjoyed counting. I would count cars, trees, birds, buildings, pens, clouds, ants, marbles, blades of grass and the freckles on my father鈥檚 arm. I counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and beyond. And I counted on a world of possibilities that are as infinite as they are manageable.
2. Drawing
The holidays were over and the grey clouds of September carried the overpowering smell of the school鈥檚 soup with them. It鈥檚 a smell that was embedded in the classroom鈥檚 walls, in my books, in my clothes. A smell that could only be shaken off by a warm summer breeze and rolling around in the grass. Presently I found myself in a school made of concrete, holding down the grass and keeping out the breeze. The first assignment the teacher gave us was to look back on that beautiful summer and draw our best memory. The smell of soup filled my nostrils. Pea soup. It wasn鈥檛 always pea soup but it always smelled like pea soup. And the thing with soup is that there鈥檚 no telling how many peas were in there. How could I recall anything of summer in this environment of grey walls and brownish green soup? The teacher was hovering over me when I had just started drawing. I had begun like I always began: a smiling sun in the top left corner. 鈥淭he sun doesn鈥檛 have a face.鈥�, the teacher told me flatly. The foundation of every drawing I had made crumbled and so did my childhood. But I had a drawing to finish. A drawing of happier times where the sun was still allowed to smile, a drawing of times that suddenly seemed miles away.
3. Caring
Summers in my childhood street were beautiful. The street was a loop, shaped very much like a 鈥渂鈥�, with houses on all sides. Only cars who had to be there would pass by, so the street belonged to us, us being me and a friend who was visiting. We had met each other on holidays in Rhodes, and given that we were the only two Flemish kids there, at an age where our differences didn鈥檛 matter as much as the games we could play together, we got along really well. His parents dropped him off for a week every summer since then. Christopher was a lot more adventurous than I was and whenever he came around we explored new areas, climbed trees, built camps and stole apples. One summer we were at a little creek, at the tip of the 鈥渂鈥�, and heard the sound of frogs. 鈥淒id you ever catch a frog?鈥�, Christopher asked. I hadn鈥檛. I didn鈥檛 like little living things. They scared me, as I pictured them jumping into my eye or crawling under my skin. I had seen Christopher catch huge bugs in Rhodes that were resting on trees, insects that terrified me and would haunt many of my nightmares. But I never wanted to show him my weakness in this regard. 鈥淚鈥檒l show you how to catch a frog.鈥�, he said. And I told him 鈥渙k鈥�, with a heart that felt like the size of a pea.
4. Joking
Language camps were my parents鈥� favourite thing to send me off to. It was a great way for me to make new friends, learn another language and get out of the house without them needing to worry. The first language camp I went to was on a farm that was called 鈥淭he Falcon鈥�. The idea was to have the children speak in English to each other all the time, and thus learn new vocabulary as they were playing. So getting out of the house? Check! Learning another language? Check! Making new friends? Kcehc鈥� I had just started wearing glasses and was still pretty insecure about them, with camp being the first time I鈥檇 be wearing them in public. I thought things would be fine because I knew a friend who was going as well, so at least I鈥檇 have him to hang around with. Sadly, he abandoned me the first day, even before my parents鈥� car drove out of sight. He had a really cool cap from the Charlotte Hornets, green and purple, with the visor bent into a 鈥淯鈥�. I had a cap too. It was white, aside from the rims that were yellowed by months of perspiration, and had the logo of a cheap beer brand. The visor was as flat as an ironing board. Who could blame him for looking for other friends with cooler caps? I was mocked and ridiculed within the first hour of being at camp, even before rooms were appointed. Eventually I got to share my room with an asthmatic kid, who was my only competitor for being the camp鈥檚 social outcast. While I sympathised with his condition, his loud snoring at night made it difficult for me to be genuinely warm to him. And after he pulled down my pants in the middle of a football game, with the entire camp (girls included) watching, difficult became impossible.
One of the highlights of the camp was the camp fire. At that time the children were asked to prepare something, like a dance or a sketch, to show in front of the others. Groups were eagerly formed and as the other kids were practicing their singing and their acrobatics, I found myself alone and without ideas. Until I saw an empty bucket with the label of a brand of mayonnaise.
5. Writing
High school was pretty good to me. I had a nice group of friends, my grades were okay, and I didn鈥檛 have to exert myself too much in order to obtain them. One teacher tried to change all that. Mr. Vekeman, who gave courses for Dutch, didn鈥檛 like me. In fact, he hated me. He had noticed that I was lazy and that I didn鈥檛 pay attention. While that was true, the problem was that he took all of this personally. As if my lack of devotion for Dutch somehow brought to light his own failure at being an interesting person.
One day he gave us an assignment: to write an essay on the topic of 鈥渞esponsibility鈥�. He showed an example of a particular type of essay, the one where a fictional story is interspersed with social commentary, both feeding in to each other. It looked pretty cool. Finally an assignment I liked!
I started writing about a guy left home alone, his parents leaving on a holiday. He organised a big party instead of doing his homework. This story ran parallel with some remarks on how responsibility is obtained or bestowed and the ways in which one can wriggle out of them. Of course, the whole thing blew up in that guy鈥檚 face, allowing me the conclusion that the vomit of his drunken friends in the pool was what brought home the importance of responsibility. The lesson that it was only when you took your responsibility that the luxury of swimming without finding a stray pea in your course would be yours. I handed in the essay with confidence and discussed it with my friends. They smirked. They told me I hadn鈥檛 understood the assignment correctly. We were supposed to write a normal essay, without all the fiction that our teacher deemed ridiculous. He had given us an example in class, not because he liked it, but to show us how it should never be done. An example which I followed. A style that my teacher despised and would find in an essay with my name on it.
6. Reviewing
I鈥檓 on 欧宝娱乐, present day. I鈥檝e just read Cloud Atlas, a wonderful achievement by a gifted author. A book that is difficult to summarize because of its scope. It鈥檚 a tale that spans six different times, places and genres . There are many lines that connect these tales, but the first one worth noting is the brilliance of David Mitchell. It takes daring to write a book like this, and skill. He鈥檚 got both. First of all, there鈥檚 his mastery of English language. Just consider the following quotes:
鈥滱 ringing phone flips Luisa鈥檚 dreams over and she lands in a moonlit room."
I wouln't be surprised if David Mitchell has a similarly shaped birthmark as Charles Dickens had.
鈥漈he cold sank its fangs into my exposed neck and frisked me for uninsulated patches.鈥�
Not convinced?
鈥� Hot glass office buildings where the blooms of youth harden into aged cacti like my penny-pinching brother.鈥�
Okay, just one more:
鈥� The memory cracked on the hard rim of my heart and the yolk dribbled out.鈥�
This book uses many different styles. Some stories are presented in the form of a letter, others are a journal, still others are an interview. Given that it spans different centuries, language itself is transformed. The chapters set in the 19th century made me grab my dictionary once in a while, while the stories set into the future are an experiment much in the same vain as 鈥淎 Clockwork Orange鈥� or 鈥淩iddley Walker鈥� are. The language that Mitchell foresees for the future is less pleasing to both the ear and the eye than Burgess鈥� Nadsat. The stories set in the future registered a bit less in my mind for that reason.
Aside from his mastery of language and his propensity of delivering powerful aphorisms, Mitchell can enter the mind of any character one can imagine. He knows the workings of an ageing publisher as well as those of a gifted musical composer, he describes the life of a mass-produced clone as well as that of a 19th century notary traveling on the Pacific.
Six stories are contained in Cloud Atlas. The way they are connected is usually very subtle, though the author sometimes can鈥檛 help himself and waves a certain birthmark in your face. The blurb at the back says it鈥檚 about power, and true enough, many insights from many different perspectives are given on the nature, pitfalls and omnipresence of power and mankind's thirst for it. But I think that the true essence of this book, for me, can better be summarised with the author鈥檚 own words:
"Three or four times only in my youth did I glimpse the Joyous Isles, before they were lost to fogs, depressions, cold fronts, ill winds and contrary tides. I mistook them for adulthood. Assuming they were a fixed feature in my life's voyage, I neglected to record their latitude, their longitude, their approach. Young ruddy fool. What wouldn't I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds. "
Aside from this central and ethereal theme, the stories in Cloud Atlas each have their own plot. There鈥檚 one about an escape from a retirement home, which is my favourite. It鈥檚 got the perfect mix of humour, tension and philosophical musings. The protagonist, Timothy Cavendish, is a bit embittered and looks at the world around him with a very sceptical, but nonetheless thoroughly perceiving eye. His ghastly ordeal is the best thing I鈥檝e read this year and that story alone is worth reading this book. The letters from Zedelghem castle, located in a little Belgian town, were also a highlight with the usage of refined language and a rather direct protagonist.
What cost this book a star is the story about the first Luisa Rey mystery. It鈥檚 got a good villain and one good line (the one about dreams flipping over), but other than that it brings the book down. First of all: it鈥檚 not a mystery. The story, pulled by its hairs as it is, is riddled with plotholes and clich茅s. . Was this a conscious choice by the author, employing the superficial, no-attention-to-detail 鈥淗ollywood鈥�-style to give yet another flavour to Cloud Atlas? Probably, but that doesn鈥檛 mean I should like it.
But the overall experience of Cloud Atlas: Mesmerizing. Inspiring. Amazing. What really makes this book shine is its structure, the prose of an author who swims in English like an otter in a pond, and, of course, the grand idea of trying to make, draw and write an atlas of clouds, and succeeding.
5. Writing
A couple of days had passed and I had almost succeeded in forgetting about that essay. The sword that was dangling above my head had disappeared over the weekend, but come Monday morning that very same sword shot through the stars on a course straight for the top of my head. I could feel its heated presence in the air and was just wishing it would all be over soon when the teacher came into the class with a bundle of papers. THE bundle of papers. My essay, my biggest failure to date, was in there. Mr. Vekeman had a sorrowful look on his face. He was displeased. He started handing out the essays without having spoken a word. Slowly. I looked at my classmates鈥� reactions and saw despair written on their faces. The only sound in the class was the ruffling of papers and little gasps of disappointment. Of shock. Everyone around me had had their essays handed back to them. Some had gotten zero out of twenty. But where was my essay?
The teacher stood in front of the class with one paper in his hand.
鈥淣ow I will read the essay of the one person who managed to get it right. The one person who got the maximum score.鈥�
He started to read.
I beamed with pride.
My classmates looked at me and smiled.
They liked it too.
4. Joking
The preparations for the camp fire were well under way. The firewood had been stacked, the music installation was set up, the tables where the hotdogs would be prepared were in place. Most kids were already returning to their rooms to get dressed for the big night. The shadows were getting longer, the breeze was getting cooler as I set to work on the bucket. I had made the children laugh already once during that football game, and I resolved to do it again, only this time not at anyone鈥檚 expense. I felt ready. I giggled at the scenario that played out in my head. I felt ready. I pictured Lea鈥檚 blush and playful look as I was gracefully accepting the laughter and applause. I felt ready.
The show was already well underway when I started to get nervous. Kids had been dancing and singing, sure, but there were also some that had been funny. Funny was my plan! And suddenly, after some kids were done impersonating Andrea Bocelli, it was my turn. Me and my bucket of mayonnaise. There I stood, in front of the very same audience who had seen my p-p, an audience that might as well have been a mouth to hell. I began.
鈥淟adies and gentlemen, allow me to present to you this new brand of paint!鈥�
I showed them the side of the bucket that I had covered with a piece of paper, with the word PAINT scribbled on it.
鈥淚t is the thing to get in your homes, ladies and gentlemen. It can be used in your living rooms, garages, kitchens, for your garden shacks, for walls and ceilings alike! Get this paint now! It鈥檚 water resistant! It鈥檚 whiter with a delicate touch of yellow! It鈥檚 wonderful!鈥�
Timing was everything. I turned around the bucket, showing people the label of mayonnaise.
鈥淎ND IT TASTES SO GOOD!!鈥�
And then, there was silence.
A silence I will never forget.
3. Caring
We went into the creek in search for the frogs. A part of me was hoping the little amphibians would be too quick for us, too clever, but after what seemed like only a couple of seconds Christopher had already caught one. 鈥淟ook, it鈥檚 a big one!鈥�, he said. I looked and expressed my high esteem for his frog-catching talents, hoping he would free the animal soon. He did. But he wasn鈥檛 done yet. He would teach me to catch one for myself. I was taught to combine luring with patience and swiftness. The trick is not to grab them, but to just make them jump into your hands. I went about it rather half-heartedly, but that day I learnt never to underestimate a frog鈥檚 eagerness to be caught. Without really trying I had caught a frog. Not entirely according to procedure, as it was dangling from my hands with one of its legs stuck between my fingers, but got it I did! I showed it to Christopher and quickly threw it away. 鈥淲hat are you doing? We鈥檙e taking them home! To show to your mother! We can build them a little park in a Tupperware box, they鈥檒l have the time of their lives!鈥� Back to square one. I was dreading the return journey with a frog in my hands, so I expertly managed to not catch one. To no avail. Christopher quickly caught two and gave me one to carry. 鈥淏e careful so that it doesn鈥檛 jump away.鈥� he said. The frog was placed gently on the palm of my hand. I put my other hand over it and thus we walked back home, talking about the things we鈥檇 build and the fun the frogs would have. Having a frog in my hand wasn鈥檛 all that bad. After a while it stopped feeling so cold and it didn鈥檛 move around as much as I expected. I started to feel connected with the little creature. My little friend would be a hero among frogs, with plenty of stories to tell about Tupperwarepark. By the time we got home I felt like a Crocodile Dundee in the making. Excitedly I shouted to my mom to get us a box. She hurried out and asked us what we were up to. Proudly we showed our catch. A beautiful frog in Christopher鈥檚 hand. A squished pancake of peas in mine.
2. Drawing
I erased the sun鈥檚 smile. I drew some faceless clouds and faceless trees, a little house and a breeze. How did I draw a breeze? I just drew some flowers that tilted to the left. I drew children playing with a ball. Not because I played with a ball that summer, but because drawing a kid playing with miniature cars was too difficult. The cars would come out too big or the stance of the kid too awkward, so I decided to just keep it out of the drawing. Looking at those happy kids playing with that ball, I kind of got angry. Stupid kids. Stupid ball. What could ruin their dull everyday day? I pondered. And then I drew a bee. A big, fat bee that was caught in the middle of their ball throwing shenanigans. A big, angry bee that would enact its vengeance on those big blue eyes. A fat, crazy bee that would turn those hapless smiles upside down. The vengeance didn鈥檛 take place in the drawing. But it took place in my mind. And on the classroom window. You see, the teacher had the idea of having every kid copy something from their own drawing and paint it on the window. The teacher saw many drawings with children playing with balls, with houses and trees and even flowers in the breeze, but he only saw one with a bee. And so it was me who got to draw a big, fat bee in the summer scenery of the classroom window. A bee that would stay there for the rest of the year. 鈥淲ho needs a smiling sun, high up in the sky?鈥�, I thought, 鈥淲hen there鈥檚 so many reasons to smile right inside my head.鈥�
1. Counting
I don鈥檛 remember when I started to tire of counting. The numbers seemed to lose their magic as they got bigger. Three houses seemed so much more interesting than hundreds of buildings. The five apple trees in our garden paled in comparison with the forests I saw on TV. My little world of twenty-sixes, seventeens and fours divided by twos seemed so insignificant. What鈥檚 the good of counting if it never stops before it gets boring, or if it never stops at all? What鈥檚 the sense of having a number like 76983? There鈥檚 just too much to handle. I鈥檝e only got two hands and one head, so how can I be expected to count all those stars above? So I stopped looking up, and I looked down. Down at my hands. I put my hands on the table and looked at the back of my left hand. My pinkie was one. My thumb was five. 1-2-3-4-5. My right hand became 5-4-3-2-1. I made my thumbs overlap. 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1. Who needs infinity? Now this was counting that I could handle. Symmetrical. Harmonious. Leaving for a trip and coming back home. Counting that I enjoyed. Counting that I could never tire of. Counting up towards a crescendo and counting down to a blissful conclusion of peace.
I don鈥檛 remember exactly when I learnt to count. It feels like one of my earliest memories, and one of my most profound. Things started to make sense right there and then. That mountain of peas on my plate felt a lot less menacing when I could count that there were only 36 of them. My collection of Dinky Toys was all the more impressive when I realized I had a whopping 24 miniature cars to play with. My enjoyment of candies increased when I realised 5 became 4 and 4 become 0 real quick. I enjoyed counting. I would count cars, trees, birds, buildings, pens, clouds, ants, marbles, blades of grass and the freckles on my father鈥檚 arm. I counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and beyond. And I counted on a world of possibilities that are as infinite as they are manageable.
2. Drawing
The holidays were over and the grey clouds of September carried the overpowering smell of the school鈥檚 soup with them. It鈥檚 a smell that was embedded in the classroom鈥檚 walls, in my books, in my clothes. A smell that could only be shaken off by a warm summer breeze and rolling around in the grass. Presently I found myself in a school made of concrete, holding down the grass and keeping out the breeze. The first assignment the teacher gave us was to look back on that beautiful summer and draw our best memory. The smell of soup filled my nostrils. Pea soup. It wasn鈥檛 always pea soup but it always smelled like pea soup. And the thing with soup is that there鈥檚 no telling how many peas were in there. How could I recall anything of summer in this environment of grey walls and brownish green soup? The teacher was hovering over me when I had just started drawing. I had begun like I always began: a smiling sun in the top left corner. 鈥淭he sun doesn鈥檛 have a face.鈥�, the teacher told me flatly. The foundation of every drawing I had made crumbled and so did my childhood. But I had a drawing to finish. A drawing of happier times where the sun was still allowed to smile, a drawing of times that suddenly seemed miles away.
3. Caring
Summers in my childhood street were beautiful. The street was a loop, shaped very much like a 鈥渂鈥�, with houses on all sides. Only cars who had to be there would pass by, so the street belonged to us, us being me and a friend who was visiting. We had met each other on holidays in Rhodes, and given that we were the only two Flemish kids there, at an age where our differences didn鈥檛 matter as much as the games we could play together, we got along really well. His parents dropped him off for a week every summer since then. Christopher was a lot more adventurous than I was and whenever he came around we explored new areas, climbed trees, built camps and stole apples. One summer we were at a little creek, at the tip of the 鈥渂鈥�, and heard the sound of frogs. 鈥淒id you ever catch a frog?鈥�, Christopher asked. I hadn鈥檛. I didn鈥檛 like little living things. They scared me, as I pictured them jumping into my eye or crawling under my skin. I had seen Christopher catch huge bugs in Rhodes that were resting on trees, insects that terrified me and would haunt many of my nightmares. But I never wanted to show him my weakness in this regard. 鈥淚鈥檒l show you how to catch a frog.鈥�, he said. And I told him 鈥渙k鈥�, with a heart that felt like the size of a pea.
4. Joking
Language camps were my parents鈥� favourite thing to send me off to. It was a great way for me to make new friends, learn another language and get out of the house without them needing to worry. The first language camp I went to was on a farm that was called 鈥淭he Falcon鈥�. The idea was to have the children speak in English to each other all the time, and thus learn new vocabulary as they were playing. So getting out of the house? Check! Learning another language? Check! Making new friends? Kcehc鈥� I had just started wearing glasses and was still pretty insecure about them, with camp being the first time I鈥檇 be wearing them in public. I thought things would be fine because I knew a friend who was going as well, so at least I鈥檇 have him to hang around with. Sadly, he abandoned me the first day, even before my parents鈥� car drove out of sight. He had a really cool cap from the Charlotte Hornets, green and purple, with the visor bent into a 鈥淯鈥�. I had a cap too. It was white, aside from the rims that were yellowed by months of perspiration, and had the logo of a cheap beer brand. The visor was as flat as an ironing board. Who could blame him for looking for other friends with cooler caps? I was mocked and ridiculed within the first hour of being at camp, even before rooms were appointed. Eventually I got to share my room with an asthmatic kid, who was my only competitor for being the camp鈥檚 social outcast. While I sympathised with his condition, his loud snoring at night made it difficult for me to be genuinely warm to him. And after he pulled down my pants in the middle of a football game, with the entire camp (girls included) watching, difficult became impossible.
One of the highlights of the camp was the camp fire. At that time the children were asked to prepare something, like a dance or a sketch, to show in front of the others. Groups were eagerly formed and as the other kids were practicing their singing and their acrobatics, I found myself alone and without ideas. Until I saw an empty bucket with the label of a brand of mayonnaise.
5. Writing
High school was pretty good to me. I had a nice group of friends, my grades were okay, and I didn鈥檛 have to exert myself too much in order to obtain them. One teacher tried to change all that. Mr. Vekeman, who gave courses for Dutch, didn鈥檛 like me. In fact, he hated me. He had noticed that I was lazy and that I didn鈥檛 pay attention. While that was true, the problem was that he took all of this personally. As if my lack of devotion for Dutch somehow brought to light his own failure at being an interesting person.
One day he gave us an assignment: to write an essay on the topic of 鈥渞esponsibility鈥�. He showed an example of a particular type of essay, the one where a fictional story is interspersed with social commentary, both feeding in to each other. It looked pretty cool. Finally an assignment I liked!
I started writing about a guy left home alone, his parents leaving on a holiday. He organised a big party instead of doing his homework. This story ran parallel with some remarks on how responsibility is obtained or bestowed and the ways in which one can wriggle out of them. Of course, the whole thing blew up in that guy鈥檚 face, allowing me the conclusion that the vomit of his drunken friends in the pool was what brought home the importance of responsibility. The lesson that it was only when you took your responsibility that the luxury of swimming without finding a stray pea in your course would be yours. I handed in the essay with confidence and discussed it with my friends. They smirked. They told me I hadn鈥檛 understood the assignment correctly. We were supposed to write a normal essay, without all the fiction that our teacher deemed ridiculous. He had given us an example in class, not because he liked it, but to show us how it should never be done. An example which I followed. A style that my teacher despised and would find in an essay with my name on it.
6. Reviewing
I鈥檓 on 欧宝娱乐, present day. I鈥檝e just read Cloud Atlas, a wonderful achievement by a gifted author. A book that is difficult to summarize because of its scope. It鈥檚 a tale that spans six different times, places and genres . There are many lines that connect these tales, but the first one worth noting is the brilliance of David Mitchell. It takes daring to write a book like this, and skill. He鈥檚 got both. First of all, there鈥檚 his mastery of English language. Just consider the following quotes:
鈥滱 ringing phone flips Luisa鈥檚 dreams over and she lands in a moonlit room."
I wouln't be surprised if David Mitchell has a similarly shaped birthmark as Charles Dickens had.
鈥漈he cold sank its fangs into my exposed neck and frisked me for uninsulated patches.鈥�
Not convinced?
鈥� Hot glass office buildings where the blooms of youth harden into aged cacti like my penny-pinching brother.鈥�
Okay, just one more:
鈥� The memory cracked on the hard rim of my heart and the yolk dribbled out.鈥�
This book uses many different styles. Some stories are presented in the form of a letter, others are a journal, still others are an interview. Given that it spans different centuries, language itself is transformed. The chapters set in the 19th century made me grab my dictionary once in a while, while the stories set into the future are an experiment much in the same vain as 鈥淎 Clockwork Orange鈥� or 鈥淩iddley Walker鈥� are. The language that Mitchell foresees for the future is less pleasing to both the ear and the eye than Burgess鈥� Nadsat. The stories set in the future registered a bit less in my mind for that reason.
Aside from his mastery of language and his propensity of delivering powerful aphorisms, Mitchell can enter the mind of any character one can imagine. He knows the workings of an ageing publisher as well as those of a gifted musical composer, he describes the life of a mass-produced clone as well as that of a 19th century notary traveling on the Pacific.
Six stories are contained in Cloud Atlas. The way they are connected is usually very subtle, though the author sometimes can鈥檛 help himself and waves a certain birthmark in your face. The blurb at the back says it鈥檚 about power, and true enough, many insights from many different perspectives are given on the nature, pitfalls and omnipresence of power and mankind's thirst for it. But I think that the true essence of this book, for me, can better be summarised with the author鈥檚 own words:
"Three or four times only in my youth did I glimpse the Joyous Isles, before they were lost to fogs, depressions, cold fronts, ill winds and contrary tides. I mistook them for adulthood. Assuming they were a fixed feature in my life's voyage, I neglected to record their latitude, their longitude, their approach. Young ruddy fool. What wouldn't I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds. "
Aside from this central and ethereal theme, the stories in Cloud Atlas each have their own plot. There鈥檚 one about an escape from a retirement home, which is my favourite. It鈥檚 got the perfect mix of humour, tension and philosophical musings. The protagonist, Timothy Cavendish, is a bit embittered and looks at the world around him with a very sceptical, but nonetheless thoroughly perceiving eye. His ghastly ordeal is the best thing I鈥檝e read this year and that story alone is worth reading this book. The letters from Zedelghem castle, located in a little Belgian town, were also a highlight with the usage of refined language and a rather direct protagonist.
What cost this book a star is the story about the first Luisa Rey mystery. It鈥檚 got a good villain and one good line (the one about dreams flipping over), but other than that it brings the book down. First of all: it鈥檚 not a mystery. The story, pulled by its hairs as it is, is riddled with plotholes and clich茅s. . Was this a conscious choice by the author, employing the superficial, no-attention-to-detail 鈥淗ollywood鈥�-style to give yet another flavour to Cloud Atlas? Probably, but that doesn鈥檛 mean I should like it.
But the overall experience of Cloud Atlas: Mesmerizing. Inspiring. Amazing. What really makes this book shine is its structure, the prose of an author who swims in English like an otter in a pond, and, of course, the grand idea of trying to make, draw and write an atlas of clouds, and succeeding.
5. Writing
A couple of days had passed and I had almost succeeded in forgetting about that essay. The sword that was dangling above my head had disappeared over the weekend, but come Monday morning that very same sword shot through the stars on a course straight for the top of my head. I could feel its heated presence in the air and was just wishing it would all be over soon when the teacher came into the class with a bundle of papers. THE bundle of papers. My essay, my biggest failure to date, was in there. Mr. Vekeman had a sorrowful look on his face. He was displeased. He started handing out the essays without having spoken a word. Slowly. I looked at my classmates鈥� reactions and saw despair written on their faces. The only sound in the class was the ruffling of papers and little gasps of disappointment. Of shock. Everyone around me had had their essays handed back to them. Some had gotten zero out of twenty. But where was my essay?
The teacher stood in front of the class with one paper in his hand.
鈥淣ow I will read the essay of the one person who managed to get it right. The one person who got the maximum score.鈥�
He started to read.
I beamed with pride.
My classmates looked at me and smiled.
They liked it too.
4. Joking
The preparations for the camp fire were well under way. The firewood had been stacked, the music installation was set up, the tables where the hotdogs would be prepared were in place. Most kids were already returning to their rooms to get dressed for the big night. The shadows were getting longer, the breeze was getting cooler as I set to work on the bucket. I had made the children laugh already once during that football game, and I resolved to do it again, only this time not at anyone鈥檚 expense. I felt ready. I giggled at the scenario that played out in my head. I felt ready. I pictured Lea鈥檚 blush and playful look as I was gracefully accepting the laughter and applause. I felt ready.
The show was already well underway when I started to get nervous. Kids had been dancing and singing, sure, but there were also some that had been funny. Funny was my plan! And suddenly, after some kids were done impersonating Andrea Bocelli, it was my turn. Me and my bucket of mayonnaise. There I stood, in front of the very same audience who had seen my p-p, an audience that might as well have been a mouth to hell. I began.
鈥淟adies and gentlemen, allow me to present to you this new brand of paint!鈥�
I showed them the side of the bucket that I had covered with a piece of paper, with the word PAINT scribbled on it.
鈥淚t is the thing to get in your homes, ladies and gentlemen. It can be used in your living rooms, garages, kitchens, for your garden shacks, for walls and ceilings alike! Get this paint now! It鈥檚 water resistant! It鈥檚 whiter with a delicate touch of yellow! It鈥檚 wonderful!鈥�
Timing was everything. I turned around the bucket, showing people the label of mayonnaise.
鈥淎ND IT TASTES SO GOOD!!鈥�
And then, there was silence.
A silence I will never forget.
3. Caring
We went into the creek in search for the frogs. A part of me was hoping the little amphibians would be too quick for us, too clever, but after what seemed like only a couple of seconds Christopher had already caught one. 鈥淟ook, it鈥檚 a big one!鈥�, he said. I looked and expressed my high esteem for his frog-catching talents, hoping he would free the animal soon. He did. But he wasn鈥檛 done yet. He would teach me to catch one for myself. I was taught to combine luring with patience and swiftness. The trick is not to grab them, but to just make them jump into your hands. I went about it rather half-heartedly, but that day I learnt never to underestimate a frog鈥檚 eagerness to be caught. Without really trying I had caught a frog. Not entirely according to procedure, as it was dangling from my hands with one of its legs stuck between my fingers, but got it I did! I showed it to Christopher and quickly threw it away. 鈥淲hat are you doing? We鈥檙e taking them home! To show to your mother! We can build them a little park in a Tupperware box, they鈥檒l have the time of their lives!鈥� Back to square one. I was dreading the return journey with a frog in my hands, so I expertly managed to not catch one. To no avail. Christopher quickly caught two and gave me one to carry. 鈥淏e careful so that it doesn鈥檛 jump away.鈥� he said. The frog was placed gently on the palm of my hand. I put my other hand over it and thus we walked back home, talking about the things we鈥檇 build and the fun the frogs would have. Having a frog in my hand wasn鈥檛 all that bad. After a while it stopped feeling so cold and it didn鈥檛 move around as much as I expected. I started to feel connected with the little creature. My little friend would be a hero among frogs, with plenty of stories to tell about Tupperwarepark. By the time we got home I felt like a Crocodile Dundee in the making. Excitedly I shouted to my mom to get us a box. She hurried out and asked us what we were up to. Proudly we showed our catch. A beautiful frog in Christopher鈥檚 hand. A squished pancake of peas in mine.
2. Drawing
I erased the sun鈥檚 smile. I drew some faceless clouds and faceless trees, a little house and a breeze. How did I draw a breeze? I just drew some flowers that tilted to the left. I drew children playing with a ball. Not because I played with a ball that summer, but because drawing a kid playing with miniature cars was too difficult. The cars would come out too big or the stance of the kid too awkward, so I decided to just keep it out of the drawing. Looking at those happy kids playing with that ball, I kind of got angry. Stupid kids. Stupid ball. What could ruin their dull everyday day? I pondered. And then I drew a bee. A big, fat bee that was caught in the middle of their ball throwing shenanigans. A big, angry bee that would enact its vengeance on those big blue eyes. A fat, crazy bee that would turn those hapless smiles upside down. The vengeance didn鈥檛 take place in the drawing. But it took place in my mind. And on the classroom window. You see, the teacher had the idea of having every kid copy something from their own drawing and paint it on the window. The teacher saw many drawings with children playing with balls, with houses and trees and even flowers in the breeze, but he only saw one with a bee. And so it was me who got to draw a big, fat bee in the summer scenery of the classroom window. A bee that would stay there for the rest of the year. 鈥淲ho needs a smiling sun, high up in the sky?鈥�, I thought, 鈥淲hen there鈥檚 so many reasons to smile right inside my head.鈥�
1. Counting
I don鈥檛 remember when I started to tire of counting. The numbers seemed to lose their magic as they got bigger. Three houses seemed so much more interesting than hundreds of buildings. The five apple trees in our garden paled in comparison with the forests I saw on TV. My little world of twenty-sixes, seventeens and fours divided by twos seemed so insignificant. What鈥檚 the good of counting if it never stops before it gets boring, or if it never stops at all? What鈥檚 the sense of having a number like 76983? There鈥檚 just too much to handle. I鈥檝e only got two hands and one head, so how can I be expected to count all those stars above? So I stopped looking up, and I looked down. Down at my hands. I put my hands on the table and looked at the back of my left hand. My pinkie was one. My thumb was five. 1-2-3-4-5. My right hand became 5-4-3-2-1. I made my thumbs overlap. 1-2-3-4-5-4-3-2-1. Who needs infinity? Now this was counting that I could handle. Symmetrical. Harmonious. Leaving for a trip and coming back home. Counting that I enjoyed. Counting that I could never tire of. Counting up towards a crescendo and counting down to a blissful conclusion of peace.
October 5, 2022
Termin茅 este libro decepcionado y hasta irritado con el autor.
La novela tiene un pase como proyecto de fin de curso de escritura creativa. No niego que est谩 muy bien escrita, que los cambios de estilo y de registro est茅n muy conseguidos, que las historias sean entretenidas, pero ah铆 se queda la cosa. Para m铆 no deja de ser una colecci贸n de cuentos juveniles presentados de forma... digamos que ingeniosa. Aunque tambi茅n podr铆a decir tramposa.
Claro que tambi茅n puede ser un problema de expectativas. Uno esperar铆a (al menos yo lo hice) que todo ese fuego de artificio de cap铆tulos interrumpidos, de historias dentro de historias, de antojos viajeros, de b煤squeda de relaciones, terminara con alg煤n tipo de justificaci贸n, ese algo m谩s que llevara a estas historias a un punto por encima de esos fogonazos llenos de color pero con poco contenido cal贸rico. Pero nada de nada; no hay m谩s que esa moralina para jovencitos imp煤beres de que todos tenemos una semillita de bondad dentro de nosotros por muy perversos que nos creamos.
Bueno, s铆 que hay m谩s. Como el propio autor nos dice en la pen煤ltima de sus historias: 鈥淯na nota de viol铆n horr铆sona: 茅se ser谩 el final de mi sexteto.鈥� 驴Y qu茅 puede ser peor final que ese discurso happy-flower que nos endosa Adam Ewing al final de su cap铆tulo?
鈥溌縄dea revolucionaria o efectismo insustancial?鈥� Pregunta en un momento dado el autor acerca de su obra. La respuesta seguro que se la imaginan ustedes.
February 25, 2025
小 械写薪邪 写褍屑邪 - 褋褌褉邪褏芯褌薪邪!!!
袧械 屑懈 褏邪褉械褋胁邪 械写懈薪褋褌胁械薪芯 锌芯写斜芯褉邪 薪邪 斜褗谢谐邪褉褋泻芯褌芯 蟹邪谐谢邪胁懈械 - 写邪谢械褔 锌芯-褍写邪褔薪芯 斜懈 斜懈谢芯 袨斜谢邪褔械薪 邪褌谢邪褋 懈谢懈 写芯褉懈 袗褌谢邪褋/袣邪褉褌邪 薪邪 芯斜谢邪褑懈褌械. 袧械褖芯, 泻芯械褌芯 械 薪械胁褗蟹屑芯卸薪芯 褉械邪谢薪芯 写邪 褋褗褖械褋褌胁褍胁邪, 芯褋胁械薪 胁 写懈谐懈褌邪谢械薪 胁邪褉懈邪薪褌 懈 械 胁械褔薪邪 锌褉芯屑械薪谢懈胁邪.
小邪屑邪褌邪 泻薪懈谐邪 褋械 褋褗褋褌芯懈 芯褌 锌谢邪胁薪芯 锌褉械谢懈胁邪褖懈 械写薪邪 胁 写褉褍谐邪 懈 胁褗胁 胁褉械屑械褌芯 懈 锌褉芯褋褌褉邪薪褋褌胁芯褌芯 懈褋褌芯褉懈懈. 袧邪锌褉械写 懈 锌芯褋谢械 芯斜褉邪褌薪芯.
肖邪薪褌邪褋褌懈褔薪芯 懈蟹锌褗谢薪械薪懈械 薪邪 袛械泄胁懈写 袦懈褔褗谢, 谐芯写懈薪懈 褋谢械写 锌褉芯褔懈褌邪 薪邪 泻薪懈谐邪褌邪 褋褗屑 胁褋械 芯褖械 蟹邪锌谢械薪械薪 芯褌 薪械褟 懈 锌芯屑薪褟 锌芯褔褌懈 胁褋懈褔泻懈褌械 懈 谐械褉芯懈 懈 锌械褉懈锌械褌懈懈褌械 懈屑. 袪褟写泻芯 锌芯锌邪写邪屑 薪邪 褌邪泻褗胁 屑芯褖械薪 褉邪蟹屑邪褏 薪邪 胁褗芯斜褉邪卸械薪懈械褌芯, 泻芯谢泻芯褌芯 懈 泻谢懈褕懈褉邪薪芯 写邪 蟹胁褍褔懈.
些械 褟 锌褉械锌褉芯褔械褌邪 褋褗褋 褋懈谐褍褉薪芯褋褌.
笑懈褌邪褌:
"袙 薪邪褔邪谢芯褌芯 械 薪械胁械卸械褋褌胁芯褌芯. 孝芯 锌芯褉邪卸写邪 褋褌褉邪褏. 小褌褉邪褏褗褌 - 芯屑褉邪蟹邪, 邪 褌褟 薪邪褋懈谢懈械. 袧邪褋懈谢懈械褌芯 锌褉械写懈蟹胁懈泻胁邪 薪芯胁芯 薪邪褋懈谢懈械, 写芯泻邪褌芯 械写懈薪褋褌胁械薪 蟹邪泻芯薪 褋褌邪薪械 胁芯谢褟褌邪 薪邪 薪邪泄-褋懈谢薪懈褟."
袚谢械写邪褏 懈 褎懈谢屑邪, 褋锌芯褉械写 屑械薪 械泻褉邪薪懈蟹邪褑懈褟褌邪 械 写芯褋褌邪 褋锌芯谢褍褔谢懈胁邪 懈 褋褗褖芯 褋懈 褋褌褉褍胁邪 写邪 褋械 胁懈写懈.
P.S. 袥懈褔械薪 褎邪胁芯褉懈褌 - 锌褉懈泻谢褞褔械薪懈械褌芯 薪邪 孝懈屑褗褌懈 袣邪胁械薪写懈褕, 锌褉械褋褗蟹写邪写械薪芯 斜褉懈谢懈褟薪褌薪芯 胁褗胁 褎懈谢屑邪 芯褌 袛卸懈屑 袘褉芯褍写斜械薪褌!
袧械 屑懈 褏邪褉械褋胁邪 械写懈薪褋褌胁械薪芯 锌芯写斜芯褉邪 薪邪 斜褗谢谐邪褉褋泻芯褌芯 蟹邪谐谢邪胁懈械 - 写邪谢械褔 锌芯-褍写邪褔薪芯 斜懈 斜懈谢芯 袨斜谢邪褔械薪 邪褌谢邪褋 懈谢懈 写芯褉懈 袗褌谢邪褋/袣邪褉褌邪 薪邪 芯斜谢邪褑懈褌械. 袧械褖芯, 泻芯械褌芯 械 薪械胁褗蟹屑芯卸薪芯 褉械邪谢薪芯 写邪 褋褗褖械褋褌胁褍胁邪, 芯褋胁械薪 胁 写懈谐懈褌邪谢械薪 胁邪褉懈邪薪褌 懈 械 胁械褔薪邪 锌褉芯屑械薪谢懈胁邪.
小邪屑邪褌邪 泻薪懈谐邪 褋械 褋褗褋褌芯懈 芯褌 锌谢邪胁薪芯 锌褉械谢懈胁邪褖懈 械写薪邪 胁 写褉褍谐邪 懈 胁褗胁 胁褉械屑械褌芯 懈 锌褉芯褋褌褉邪薪褋褌胁芯褌芯 懈褋褌芯褉懈懈. 袧邪锌褉械写 懈 锌芯褋谢械 芯斜褉邪褌薪芯.
肖邪薪褌邪褋褌懈褔薪芯 懈蟹锌褗谢薪械薪懈械 薪邪 袛械泄胁懈写 袦懈褔褗谢, 谐芯写懈薪懈 褋谢械写 锌褉芯褔懈褌邪 薪邪 泻薪懈谐邪褌邪 褋褗屑 胁褋械 芯褖械 蟹邪锌谢械薪械薪 芯褌 薪械褟 懈 锌芯屑薪褟 锌芯褔褌懈 胁褋懈褔泻懈褌械 懈 谐械褉芯懈 懈 锌械褉懈锌械褌懈懈褌械 懈屑. 袪褟写泻芯 锌芯锌邪写邪屑 薪邪 褌邪泻褗胁 屑芯褖械薪 褉邪蟹屑邪褏 薪邪 胁褗芯斜褉邪卸械薪懈械褌芯, 泻芯谢泻芯褌芯 懈 泻谢懈褕懈褉邪薪芯 写邪 蟹胁褍褔懈.
些械 褟 锌褉械锌褉芯褔械褌邪 褋褗褋 褋懈谐褍褉薪芯褋褌.
笑懈褌邪褌:
"袙 薪邪褔邪谢芯褌芯 械 薪械胁械卸械褋褌胁芯褌芯. 孝芯 锌芯褉邪卸写邪 褋褌褉邪褏. 小褌褉邪褏褗褌 - 芯屑褉邪蟹邪, 邪 褌褟 薪邪褋懈谢懈械. 袧邪褋懈谢懈械褌芯 锌褉械写懈蟹胁懈泻胁邪 薪芯胁芯 薪邪褋懈谢懈械, 写芯泻邪褌芯 械写懈薪褋褌胁械薪 蟹邪泻芯薪 褋褌邪薪械 胁芯谢褟褌邪 薪邪 薪邪泄-褋懈谢薪懈褟."
袚谢械写邪褏 懈 褎懈谢屑邪, 褋锌芯褉械写 屑械薪 械泻褉邪薪懈蟹邪褑懈褟褌邪 械 写芯褋褌邪 褋锌芯谢褍褔谢懈胁邪 懈 褋褗褖芯 褋懈 褋褌褉褍胁邪 写邪 褋械 胁懈写懈.
P.S. 袥懈褔械薪 褎邪胁芯褉懈褌 - 锌褉懈泻谢褞褔械薪懈械褌芯 薪邪 孝懈屑褗褌懈 袣邪胁械薪写懈褕, 锌褉械褋褗蟹写邪写械薪芯 斜褉懈谢懈褟薪褌薪芯 胁褗胁 褎懈谢屑邪 芯褌 袛卸懈屑 袘褉芯褍写斜械薪褌!
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