Books: The Bone Clocks By David Mitchell (2014)

David Mitchell once again takes the readers on a weird, wonderful journey with The Bone Clocks, a novel that defies being categorized.  Still, what strikes me is how he can take the “pop fiction” aspect of his plot and turn into a decent prose. The fact that it lacks pretentiousness is also a great feat.  

Much like Cloud Atlas, Mitchell uses the plot form of six (sometimes overly long) related narratives that span from 1984 to 2043. It begins with Holly Sykes in 1984, who at age 15 has decided that her parents (whom own a pub in Gravesend) do not understand her relationship with a 22 year-old boyfriend. After the latest fight with her mother, Holly runs away. Sadly, she realizes that while she loves Vinny, the 22 year-old only saw Holly as the latest fling. When she decides not to return home and face the humiliation of her family, Holly strikes out on her own, and as she narrates, the reader learns that Holly is a lightning rod for psychic phenomena. She tells us of her ability to hear “the radio people”, voices only she seems able to hear. And as she wanders deeper into the English country side, weird visions and bizarre coincidences bring her in contact with cabal of mystics and their sworn enemies. But her lost weekend, so to speak, comes to an end with the shocking disappearance of her little brother. And with that, the thread, this unsolved mystery will form the back bone of the narrative through the decades. We also meet Hugo Lamb, a dastardly Cambridge undergraduate, seducer, thief, and near-murderer; and Crispin Hershey, a successful English writer whom is obsessed with taking revenge on his harshest reviewer, one Richard Cheeseman. Then there is the conflicted father who feels alive only while reporting from occupied Iraq. 

As I noted, with these connected and overlapping novellas, we learn that there is an invisible battle going on in the margins of our society (the Anchorites and the Horologists), one that began long before the written word and continues well into the future, one were the fabric of reality is reshaped, repurposed and redefined. 

And yes, the connections and interweaving is gracefully managed, and there is some pleasure (you sense) in Mitchell’s sometimes linguistic notions to force readers to pay attention, but the book remains a bit overlong and static at times. While I don’t think many words are wasted, that all of this important to the narrative, I sometimes felt he could’ve condensed the plotting and still not lost the threaded tapestry of his story. Still, a remarkable work of meta-fiction, told with a sense of humor and a wink of the eye to those snobby literature reviewers who may see that while David Mitchell is a brilliant writer, the plot of The Bone Clocks borders on science fiction and fantasy. 

As noted in Slade House, which is connected to this book, Mitchell provides his Constant Readers with a few Easter Eggs, giving all of the sense that all his books exist in the same universe.

Books: Slade House By David Mitchell (2015)

David Mitchell is an interesting writer. Much like Stephen King has done over the years, Mitchell’s six previous novels appear to exist in the same universe with characters (and their offspring) intermixing in other novels. He also has a tendency to mix genres, something that was done in Cloud Atlas and others, which makes him hard to pin down as writer. And depending on your point of view, this is good or bad. Because of this, his books also tend to be densely filled tales which employ an unusual interlocking narrative structure along with linguistic smartness that may challenge a lot of readers brought up on a diet of popular fiction that employees the most basic sequence of events. 

His seventh novel, The Slade House, while filled with some of Mitchell’s typical panache, could be described as his most accessible novel to date.  

“Down the road from a working-class British pub, along the brick wall of a narrow alley, if the conditions are exactly right, you’ll find the entrance to Slade House. A stranger will greet you by name and invite you inside. At first, you won’t want to leave. Later, you’ll find that you can’t. Every nine years, the house’s residents—an odd brother and sister—extend a unique invitation to someone who’s different or lonely: a precocious teenager, a recently divorced policeman, a shy college student. But what really goes on inside Slade House? For those who find out, it’s already too late.”

The book spans five decades (though is began long before), starting in the final months of the 1970s to 2015. Like other Mitchell books, it bounces between genres, but that’s not so much of a distraction to the reader, as you turn pages to discover what comes next. This is what enables a reader, not familiar with Mitchell’s style, to enjoy a ghost story, a haunted house tale, and mixed up lives of those caught up in the thrall of Norah and Jonah. 

I enjoyed the novel, and would’ve stayed up to finish it last night (it’s a quick read, at only 238 pages), but I was weary from work and trying to struggle through the latest Robert Galbraith (AKA J.K. Rowling) mystery which I need to return to the library while only a third of the way through it (I’ll just put it back on hold and wait, because I do like these books). As I read the novel and approached this review, I became aware that Slade House is really connected a lot to Mitchell’s last novel, The Bone Clocks. Of course, he constructs this book in such a way that you don’t have to read any of his previous novels, but now that I know more about the way he writes, and do enjoy a writer who rewards their Constant Readers with these little Easter Eggs, I’ll have to read that 2014 novel. 

Postscript: With the year rolling quickly to an end, I’ll need to figure out my own way to finish a book (or two) within the next 3 weeks. I’ve given up the idea of reading 52 books this year, but I’ve already broke (I think) my own personal best when it comes to completing novels/nonfiction in 2015 -that list will be released closer to the end of the month. Should I read The Bone Clocks knowing it might be a difficult time (much like Avenue of Mysteries and City On Fire turned out to be), or pick up one or two more novels that follow a typical narrative structure?

Stay tuned.  

Books: Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell (2004)

A reluctant voyager crossing the Pacific in 1850; a disinherited composer blagging a precarious livelihood in between-the-wars Belgium; a high-minded journalist in Governor Reagan’s California; a vanity publisher fleeing his gangland creditors; a genetically modified “dinery server” on death-row; and Zachry, a young Pacific Islander witnessing the nightfall of science and civilization -- the narrators of Cloud Atlas hear each other’s echoes down the corridor of history, and their destinies are changed in ways great and small.

I will admit, for the first time in a very long time, I struggled with the narrative of all six stories. Mitchell’s use of language, tone and prose is something I’ve not crossed paths with when reading popular fiction. Each story, while connected in some way, all have a different sort of language to them, and this drastic change can be difficult. I’ve never been a huge fan of short stories or even novellas –which these stories resemble. Part of the reason is I know the story is limited, and feel that the author is cheating me by writing these briefer stories. It’s a bit lame explanation, but it’s the best I can come up with.

The thread through Cloud Atlas, of course, is we are all connected and, probably, reincarnated again and again. It should be interesting to see how siblings Andy and Lana Wachowski translate the novel to the screen. The trailer look’s fabulous, but while the stories are not that complicated, it’s all going to be about tone and casting. 

Would I read this again? Perhaps, as I admit I might’ve wanted now to watch the movie before I have read the book. I don’t usually do that. Still, linguistically, the novel is brilliant, and Mitchell is well versed in creating sentences that deify creation to begin with. But I also felt, at times, I was not smart enough to finish reading it, and I sort of trudged through it seeking an end.

Maybe, somewhere, sometime in a few months, after seeing the movie, digesting its content, I’ll pick up Cloud Atlas again and see if I get something different out of it the second time.  Maybe.