A fascinating novel, mostly made so by its intriguing structure and deft handling of many writing styles. Cloud Atlas
consists of six different narratives, each taking place at a different
time in history (and some in the future), dealing with different
characters, and employing different styles and methods of narration. The
novel begins with the narrative furthest back in time (call it
Narrative A), continues with the next narrative in chronological
succession (Narrative B), and keeps going through its several narratives
until it arrives at Narrative F, then works back in time through each
narrative once again. So the structure looks something like this:
ABCDEFEDCBA. Eventually it becomes apparent that there are connections
among these seemingly separate narratives, and Mitchell's skill in
handling this structure becomes increasingly clear as he works his way
back down his narrative ladder (on the EDCBA side, if you will). Working
the hints of connections into the first half of the novel strikes me as
something not overly difficult; backing out through the second half of
the narrative and picking up all those disparate threads to make the
whole create sense and answer questions seems like it must have been
mind-bogglingly difficult. For manipulation of this structure, for
making it work, I give Mitchell all the credit in the world. His
skill at working so well within so many different styles is also
remarkable. He succeeds, as well, in making the reader care about each
of his narratives, about all of his characters, despite wrenching her
away from each narrative just as it is getting really good and asking
her to invest in yet another scenario.
I came away from Cloud Atlas
impressed by Mitchell's writing and his ability to reel one into a
story and wowed by his handle on structure. But in the end I was never
sure what all of that structural whizzbang was for (beyond being an
incredible feat in and of itself). I'm not entirely sure what the novel
means to say about the interconnectedness of people and events or about
our ability (or inability?) to recognize those connections. Without that
understanding I was left a bit befuddled. Which is not to say that I
think this isn't a book worth reading. I think it is. There's enough
here that is satisfying to outweigh that discontent in the end. And the
novel avoids feeling like an experiment which succeeds technically but
fails to tap into the emotional life of the reader. The novel is an
amazing achievement, if not a wholly satisfying one. But absolutely
worth the read, even if only to marvel at how Mitchell works that
ABCDEFEDCBA structure. Seriously.
This review originally appeared on my LibraryThing account.
