April 4, 2024
Cloud Atlas is, I think, the most ambitious novel I’ve ever read. The sheer scope of the project feels nearly unreasonable. There is a breadth—a vastness—to it, one that could lose readers very easily. Thankfully, David Mitchell shows an uncommon expertise in his ability to keep each piece of the puzzle grounded, personal, and accessible. He weaves his stories together without abandoning his leftover threads, and the resulting six-fold resolution is more satisfying than the sum of it’s parts.
Formally, Mitchell is pushing boundaries. The first half of the book reads like a series of vignettes—maybe novellas?—that are delightfully just too short. After the midpoint, it becomes clear that the book is written like a palindrome. The first half of each of these mini-narratives is concluded in reverse order, as if the whole book is a mirror. Each story is vaguely connected to the ones on either side of it, so while there is no over-arching narrative, there is a throughline that ties the characters together over disparate eras and locales. Each section of the book is written from the perspective of a new character, which isn’t altogether shocking, but what is unduly impressive is how flexible Mitchell is as a writer. The variety of not only perspective but also style (historically informed and creatively interesting) and also specific, unique voice given to each protagonist is undeniably masterful. He writes high- and low-brow, optimism and cynicism, warmth, coolness, snark, vulnerability, and a dozen other opposites with the same finesse and precision. A god-fearing notary at sea in 19th century French Polynesia is just as convincing as an artificial human replicant in far-future Korea. Working through the back half of the palindrome (which is somewhat shorter than the first half), Mitchell’s ability is even more fully on display, writing the emotional catharses for 6 different genres/characters/narratives in quick succession and providing a whirlwind masterclass on style and voice.
Cloud Atlas feels very carefully constructed, and reminded me in many ways of the specificity you see in pointillist paintings, or deathbed symphonies. It’s clear that Mitchell puts a lot of stock in making sure every piece of his work is presented in just the right way. His use of language (particularly in the stories set in the future) is fascinating, inventing jargon and pidgin that feels authentic, without drawing too much from any one source or crowding out the actual narrative. His use of existing jargon for things like musical composition or nuclear reactors feels very well researched, in a way that’s reassuring, as if by taking great care in that area, he is showing the reader that great care will be taken in every other area, too. Each narrative follows a rough structure, but Mitchell changes that formula just enough, and with just enough frequency, to keep things interesting. He shows a great aptitude for toeing the line of expectation vs. subversion.
Maybe the only major flaw I found with this work is that the form and structure are almost distracting. Mitchell does explore consistent themes of youth vs. age, and the stories do all relate back to a broader discussion of a universal human experience, but the process of reading and discovering how the story is told is almost more exciting than the actual narratives themselves. It’s almost as if, to subvert an old saying, Mitchell misses the trees for the forest. I think there is great value in the exploration of form, and I don’t know that the novel is overly hurt by that focus, but it does become easy to engage with this novel meta-narratively, sacrificing immersion in the process.
That being said, the themes and plot are fairly universal (and therefore impactful), the characters are unique, engaging, and fun to read, and my primary feeling when finishing the book was that it was exceedingly well made. Cloud Atlas is a structural triumph, and with it David Mitchell shows his incredible range and talent as a storyteller.
8.5/10
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