Happiness is... The Bone Clocks

I know I've been AWOL for a long time now, but I feel compelled to write today. You see, today was the launch date of David Mitchell's new book, The Bone Clocks, and he was at Foyles signing their exclusive edition for two hundred-odd people. I was one of those lucky two hundred, and I was giddy – much like a teenage girl – at the prospect of meeting one of my favourite authors.

We arrived at the auditorium at 16:20, and then queued for about forty minutes, anxiously waiting for the clock to hit 17:00. We struck up a conversation with the man standing in front of us – a self-confessed "book collector," who not only lives in Stratford-upon-Avon, but in the last week has also attended Sarah Waters' talk at Nottingham and Murakami's book-signing at the Waterstones in Piccadilly.

I had intended to go for the Murakami book signing, but come Saturday, I wasn't feeling great, so I passed. Boy, in hindsight, that was the right decision – people queued from 16:00 on Friday (yes, they camped overnight!). The man we were talking to said he got there by 05:00 on Saturday morning, and he was 168 in line. Only the first 200 customers would be lucky enough to get their copy of the book signed!

And then the conversation turned to David Mitchell. It was his book-signing after all. The man believed that Cloud Atlas should have won the Booker Prize in 2004, and we heartily agreed. I couldn't recall who won the Booker that year, but this guy – he just knew. And then the lady behind us joined in the conversation as well. It is so incredibly invigorating to be surrounded by people who know and love their books. I can't remember the last time I've felt happier. Or more at home. Talking about books – that's all I want.

Sharp at 17:00, David Mitchell was there, and the winner of the competition announced. Yes, one lucky winner received all his books. Nope, it wasn't me. Maybe it's the envy talking, but considering the new illustration of Cloud Atlas, I'm almost relieved not to have that on my shelf!

Finally, when it was my turn, I went up, and just stood there grinning like a moron, completely tongue-tied. I didn't know what to say! Yes, I'm mortified. But I marvel at his patience – he added dedications, signed as many copies as people brought to him, and even signed copies of his older works. It really was amazing. I wish I'd got all his works signed, in hindsight. However, I do have a personalised signed copy of his new book, and for now, that's good enough for me.

Happy happy days.

David Mitchell - Ghostwritten

Ghostwritten is David Mitchell's first novel, and on finishing it, I've now read all his works, which pleases me greatly. Of course, the fact that this is a tremendous debut adds to the pleasure, albeit, I really do wish there was another Mitchell on my shelf, just waiting to be read. The sub-title of the book reads, "a novel in nine parts," and so it is. It could easily a collection of nine short stories, each told in first person by a different narrator, who seemingly have nothing to do with the previous narrator(s). However, six degrees of separation (or fewer) bind the characters together, through time and different geographical locations. The link between the characters isn't blatantly evident though, as one might come to expect from Mitchell, and at times, it's confusing as to how the characters come together, and to figure out if there is any kind of causal sequence. That said, one can't help but anticipate the revelation of the link, and then deliberate over it for a bit, which in turn means that one can't help but read the book, scrutinising almost every word to see where the link lies.

{note: there are some spoilers below, but I have tried to keep them to the minimum}

The first story, Okinawa, is inspired by the Sarin gas attack on the Tokyo subway - an act of domestic terrorism. Quasar, a terrorist, is on the run after wreaking havoc on a train, as he imagines a world without the "unclean" - forgive the comparison, but similar to the way some pure-bloods (and Voldemort and his Death Eaters) fell about mud-bloods in Harry Potter. Quasar believes he can communicate with the leader of his cult telepathically, and while he hides out in Okianawa, waiting for things to quieten down, he gets the news that His Serendipity has been captured. While the locals rejoice, Quasar tries to get in touch with the powers that be, to figure out the next course of action. The password to get in touch with the powers that be is simply, the dog needs to be fed.

Cue the second story, and the shift in location to Tokyo, where a teenager works in a record store, specialising in jazz. One day, a group of girls enter the store, and he's instantly attracted to one of them, but they leave the store, and he is resigned to never meeting her again. A few days later, while he's closing up the store, he hears the telephone ring, and being conscientious, goes in to answer the phone. The voice at the other end simply says, it's Quasar. The dog needs to be fed. As fate has it, this slight delay leads to him meeting the girl again, and they immediately hit it off. End of the second story. Yes, the links are that random.

“The last of the cherry blossom. On the tree, it turns ever more perfect. And when it’s perfect, it falls. And then of course once it hits the ground it gets all mushed up. So it’s only absolutely perfect when it’s falling through the air, this way and that, for the briefest time … I think that only we Japanese can really understand that, don’t you?”

{end of spoilers}

Through the rest of the stories, the reader meets the Russian mafia, and a ghost that transfers from being to being by touch; a physicist involved with the Pentagon and a night-time DJ in New York; a tea shack owner at the Holy Mountain who laments as to why women are always the ones who have to clean up, and a drummer/writer in London who also works as a ghostwriter to pay the bills.

I couldn’t get to sleep afterwards, worrying about the possible endings of the stories that had been started. Maybe that’s why I’m a ghostwriter. The endings have nothing to do with me.

You know the real drag about being a ghostwriter? You never get to write anything that beautiful. And even if you did, nobody would ever believe it was you.

We're all ghostwriters, my friend. And it's not just our memories. Our actions too. We all think we're in control of our lives, but they're really pre-ghostwritten by forces around us.

The above quotes illustrate another prominent aspect of the book: the role of fate, of chance, of the chain-reaction. The sheer randomness of the stories, and the way the characters inter-connect is pivotal to the novel, and keeps the reader completely engrossed. Of course, the other side is, by the time the reader actually starts relating to the narrator or nodding in agreement with their sentiments, a new narrator is introduced and the old narrator a thing of the past.

And then there's sneaky little political comments just dropped, making the book a lot more relevant in today's day and age. The below snippet, for example, reminds me of the preamble to Iraq.

"Have you noticed," said John, "how countries call theirs 'sovereign nuclear deterrents,' but call the other countries' ones 'weapons of mass destruction'?"

It's an overtly ambitious work, with some fairly profound statements, that had me admiring the debut from the get-go. It was thought-provoking and massive - perhaps not as demanding as Cloud Atlas, but a hell of a ride, nonetheless, and one couldn't help but marvel at how it all unraveled.

Integrity is a bugger, it really is. Lying can get you into difficulties, but to wind up in the crappers try telling nothing but the truth.

Of course, the other impressive thing was, how all nine narrators found a unique voice in the novel, totally disconnected from the previous narrator, similar to Cloud Atlas. Speaking of his most acclaimed book so far, two characters from Cloud Atlas also made an appearance in this book: Tim Cavendish and Luisa Rey - their occupations remain the same across the books, i.e. publisher and writer respectively. Not only that, but a character with a comet-shaped birthmark has a cameo role to play as well. I have to say, love finding old friends in new books!

Personally speaking, my primary complaint with the novel was that I didn't get a sense of closure or fulfilment on finishing the book. I enjoyed it, but I just didn't get the ending. I re-read the last "story" thrice, but to not much avail. I believe this book would benefit from a re-read, as there might have been a multitude of subtle hints that I missed - inadvertently.

Have you read David Mitchell's debut novel? Or, anything by him? What's your favourite? My unequivocal pick would be Number9Dream, but that might have something to do with it being the first Mitchell I read. I almost feel as though I have to re-read all his works in the order of writing, to truly appreciate the erratic wondrous world of fiction he has created.

David Mitchell - Black Swan Green

About five years back, with the launch of the iPod Shuffle, Apple declared "random is the new order" to the world, as "life is random" so we should "give chance a chance." What does any of this have to do with Black Swan Green? Well, nothing, really! However, it does have a lot to do with the way I've approached the works of David Mitchell - Unlike some book bloggers (e.g. Kerry), I haven't read his works in any kind of order; just as and when I got my hands on one of his books. I never had a chance though. I didn't even know who David Mitchell was (yes, I was living in a black hole of sorts) until one of my friends shoved number9dream in my hands, and insisted I read it. From the opening line, which I can still repeat off the top of my head, I was hooked. The rest, as they say, is history.

And so, I started my fourth book by David Mitchell eagerly, not quite knowing what to expect. I knew it was a coming-of-age story, and I half wondered if it would be similar to the surreal number9dream, or well - I didn't really have an alternative.

Black Swan Green is much more of a "traditional" coming-of-age story. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would have assumed it was Mitchell's debut novel - not because of the quality of writing (seriously, I don't think you can fault Mitchell's quality of writing!), but more because the book was a lot more conventional than I'd have expected, specially considering it was released on the back of Cloud Atlas.

It's 1982, the year of the Falklands War. Havoc is wreaking on that front, but thirteen year old Jason is fighting another battle: against bullies, against a stammering problem he can't seem to get rid of, and harbouring a secret that might make him the laughing stock of the school: a secret desire to be a poet. Closer to home, his sister refers to him as "thing," and his parents' marriage is rocky - thirteen, it's a "wonderful miserable age!"

Bluebells swarmed in pools of light where the sun got through the trees. The air smelt of them. Wild garlic smelt of toasted phlegm. Blackbirds sang like they'd die if they didn't. Birdsong's the thoughts of a wood. Beautiful it was, but boys aren't allowed to say "beautiful" 'cause it's the gayest word going.

As opposed to a linear narrative, this book is essentially a set of snapshots in Jason's life as a thirteen year old, focusing on the events that help him mature, as he realises some hard truths about life, be it about his friend's father's alcoholism

"[...]Tell you what it's like, it's like this whiny shitty nasty weepy man who isn't my dad takes my dad over for however long the bender lasts, but only I - and Mum and Kelly and Sally and Max - know that it isn't him. The rest of the world doesn't know that, see. They just say, Frank Moran showing his true colours, that is. But it ain't" Moran twisted his head at me. "But it is. But it ain't.[...]"

or, about the cruelty of war, and how it ruins lives

War's an auction where whoever can pay most in damage and still be standing wins.

Okay, maybe that's a little too profound for a thirteen year old, but the point still stands! Speaking of profundity, how's this:

I've never listened to music lying down. Listening's reading if you close your eyes. Music's a wood you walk through.

And then, you have some mixed with a desperate call for anger management:

Me, I want to kick this moronic bloody world in the bloody teeth over and over till it bloody understands that not hurting people is ten bloody thousand times more important than being right.

Oh! To be thirteen again...

I enjoyed this book, and the various episodes of Jason's life, despite the fact that at times, he really did seem older and wiser than his years (above excerpts withstanding). It was an easy read, but delightful at the same time, and it was a story I could relate to - being someone born in the eighties myself! I got most of the music references, be it Duran Duran, Beatles, Sex Pistols, Joy Division or the infamous "Do the Locomotion". It took me back a long way, and I was reminiscing away about my life and how things were about a decade ago! I could identify with Jason's preoccupations and concerns at times, and I sympathised with him on the whole rivalry with the sibling - been there, done that! My brother and I couldn't possibly be closer now. Oh, how times change...

Have you read any David Mitchell? Any favourites? I still have Ghostwritten to go, so I'm really looking forward to that.

Also, do you have any other favourite coming-of-age stories? I do love reading them - they almost always take me away to a simpler easier time. Do you feel the same as well about comfort reads?

Just as an aside for you David Mitchell fans out there who've read Cloud Atlas as well:

Madame Crommelynck, the daughter of the famous composer in Cloud Atlas, makes an appearance in this book, when she attempts to introduce Jason to European literature. She plays Robert Frobisher's Cloud Atlas Sextet for the teenager, who is awed by it (see quote above). I loved that bit! Any idea if there are any more references to other characters from his previous books that I've missed?

David Mitchell - The Thousand Autumns Of Jacob De Zoet

In terms of books being confusing and complex, this one ranks right up there. New characters being introduced every couple of pages, the story taking dramatic turns, changing from showing corruption while trading in the 18th-19th century to a surreal adventure story, and there's a love story thrown in, just for good measure as well. But no - that's not all. In fact, that's simplifying it much.

The book has one of the most graphic opening chapters, where a child is coming into the world, already dead. However, by some miracle, Orito (a midwife) saves the life of the child (and the mother). It's 1799 and the place is Nagasaki. Christianity is banned, most of the women are "wives" or prostitutes, and the locals and foreigners interact with the help of "interpreters," as the Dutch aren't allowed to study the local dialect.

The importance of the birth and the sequence of events it triggers isn't obvious in a first chunk of the book. Instead, we're introduced to the Dutchmen who inhabit the artificial island of Dejima - the corrupt greedy Dutch, working for the Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie (VOC, or Dutch East India Company). Most of them are corrupt, trying best to figure out how to forge the books for their own personal gains, but there's the one employee/clerk who puts honour above all else : Jacob de Zoet.

Things get complicated when he falls in love with Orito, the midwife, and they get even further twisted when she's abducted and sent to the Shrine of Shiranui - where she's set to become a nun at a convent. The Shrine isn't really a convent though, and the Goddess isn't really a Goddess. Think The Handmaid's Tale... with a twist.

And here, we've just finished part one of the book! I don't want to give too much away, but the rest of the book is a whirlwind, with things happening at the blink of an eye: power trips and struggles, love, betrayal, tragedy, courage and a thirst for the truth.

The writing is extraordinary - something I've come to expect from David Mitchell's books (despite reading only the two). The ambience he creates almost seems to transport me back to the eighteenth century Dejima/Nagasaki. Considering most of my historical association with Nagasaki stems from August 9, 1945, this was a pleasant change. Mitchell even gave a nod to the growing friction between the English and the Dutch in their quest for power in Asia, and the extent to which the respective parties would go. Fantastic, as it almost seemed like text book stuff - but so much more gripping.

I enjoyed the book, but not as much as number9dream, nor as much as Cloud Atlas. I thought this book was less "fun," and more "serious" - the experimental style of Mitchell's writing does still exist, but I think, the ambition of this novel lay more in the plot than the surrealism or ambiguity that I've come to associate with his writing. I've still got two unread books by David Mitchell, and I'm curious to see how this would compare with them.

Do you have a favourite book by David Mitchell? What do you think makes the book stand out?

David Mitchell - Cloud Atlas

In January 2009, I was introduced to the wonderful world of David Mitchell by a friend, who lent me the surreal number9dream - a book I absolutely loved. She proceeded to lend me Cloud Atlas next, and it's been sitting abandoned on my unread shelf for about a year now, as I've been reluctant to pick it up for a myriad of reasons - book bloggers everywhere rave about it calling it a favourite, it's considerably chunky at 529 pages, and, well, it's Mitchell's most acclaimed book yet. Anyhow, I finally picked it up about a week back, and rode the long roller-coaster that is this book - it's a heck of a ride, you're almost begging for it to finish (as, all said and done, it is a difficult book to read), but when you eventually do turn the last page, you want to experience it all over again.

The book comprises of six independent stories, that span centuries and the atlas, of which five are told in "halves," revolving around the central tale of the post-apocalyptic future, where humans are living as savages, after The Fall. In the first set of "halves", which goes chronologically, each story is read/seen by a character in the subsequent one. In the second set, the stories start moving backwards, so the characters end up reading/seeing the story that follows. Hence, the opening chapter of the book (the first incomplete half-story) is completed in the last chapter.

The common theme that runs through the book is the presence of a "comet-shaped birthmark" - a distinction present in the protagonist of each story. Does this suggest reincarnation? The existence of the soul across generations? Or, is that merely coincidental?

Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an’ tho’ a cloud’s shape nor hue nor size don’t stay the same it’s still a cloud an’ so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud's blowed from or who the soul'll be 'morrow?

The Pacific Journals of Adam Ewing {1850s} : A journal written by an American notary in the Pacific, who befriends an English surgeon as well as a stowaway Moriori. This story is cut off mid-sentence (and comes together nicely as the last chapter)...

Letters from Zedleghem {1931} : A young aspiring bankrupt composer, Robert Frobisher, goes to Belgium to apprentice with a famous composer, hoping to make some easy money, and simultaneously finding some success. Here, he discovers The Pacific Journals in the library...

Not only are there some romantic (and otherwise) twists in the tale, but, as Frobisher details his life in the Belgian estate to an old friend, Sixsmith (in the form of letters), the reader is introduced to Frobisher's biggest work, revolutionary or gimmicky: The Cloud Atlas Sextet.

Half Lives : The First Luisa Rey Mystery {1970s} : We move across the pond for this one, where Luisa Rey is a journalist, and is focusing on a big expose on the Swannekke Island Nuclear Plant in California. Sixsmith is the scientist who gave her the lead for the story, and in time, she reads the letters written to him by Frobisher. Luisa, trying to follow in her father's footsteps, seems to be hellbent on justice (consequentialism), even if it is at the expense of her own life.

The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish {present-day} : The focus shifts to present-day United Kingdom, where Timothy Cavendish is a struggling not-so-moral publisher, but, when he is tricked into admitting himself in an old-age home, with no way out, he starts trying to figure out the best way to escape, which leads to more trouble for him. A manuscript of The First Luisa Rey Mystery was sent to him by an author, and he's contemplating publishing it...

An Orison of Somni 451 {near future} : In this dystopia, where fabricants are slaves to purebloods, Somni 451 has ascended, and managed to develop her own personality, by acquiring immense knowledge. It's a story about the struggle of powers, the violence that emerges and the unfortunate state of things as they stand. She's not a partaker though, merely an observer, who recites her life-story to an Archivist. She was watching the film of Timothy Cavendish, when she was taken away...

Sloosha’s Crossin’ an’ Ev’rythin’ After {Post-apocalyptic future} : Zach'ry is the protagonist here, in a civilisation that considers Somni god, and Ol' Georgie the devil. Zach'ry and his family are savages, in awe of the Smarts, believing that the Soul either reincarnates or gets set to stone. Technology is a myth in this civilisation, and, the people mainly herd goats or the like, living in tribes in forests, fearing invasion and power struggles by the terrifying Kona.

This book is immense - the writing style in each of the stories changes significantly, so much so that they read as completely different stories : from Victorian formal english, peppered with ampersands and other shorthands, to pidgin english which I personally found quite annoying to read. However, each style seems to reflect the age it it set in, appropriately, as well as, the structure of each story seems to be similar to its genre. For example, the Luisa Rey mystery is written in numerous short chapters, much like an airport thriller, whereas, the post-apocalyptic narration is written as a rather long rant.

The common theme that binds these stories together soars above and beyond the comet-shaped birthmark. It's a story about power, domination, and the ultimate quest to rule. The stories stress on the selfishness of people, and how ultimately, this will lead to the inevitable apocalypse.

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.

While I enjoyed this book, parts of the stories just didn't grab me, and I was left quite unsure as to what's going on, and how these stories are inter-linked together. Why isn't it just a book of short stories? A much less author might have done that... or, attempted six different novels, with completely different themes. However, Mitchell, managed to tie most of the loose ends together, and left me questioning my own existence, and the power of one individual. It's an ambitious work, but, in my opinion, Mitchell's managed to pull it off surprisingly well.

David Mitchell - Number9Dream

Although really difficult to read at times, as the book continuously drifts between fantasy and reality, this book was thoroughly enjoyable. While it’s the first book I’ve read by Mitchell, it definitely won’t be the last.

The book kicks off in a cafe in Tokyo where nineteen year old Eiji Miyake introduces himself, and the quest he’s on: to find his father, a man he’s never met, a man whose name he doesn’t know, and a man who has always been a mystery to him. The start itself entices you to read on:

It is a simple matter. I know your name, and you knew mine once upon a time: Eiji Miyake. Yes, that Eiji Miyake. We are both busy people, Ms. Kato, so why not cut the small talk? I am in Tokyo to find my father. You know his name and his address. And you are going to give me both. Right now. Or something like that. A galaxy of cream unribbons in my coffee cup, and the background chatter pulls into focus. My first morning in Tokyo, and I am already getting ahead of myself.

As the story unfolds, we are informed of the people Eiji meets in the city, the people he befriends - some who betray him, and some who continue to be helpful towards him. Throughout the narrative, he reflects on his past: his dead twin sister, and his alcoholic mother who had a brief, almost non-existent role, in his childhood.

The title inspired from Lennon’s 1974 song: #9 Dream (So long ago, was it in a dream, was it just a dream? I know, yes I know. Seemed so very real, it seemed so real to me), the book traces his adventures in Tokyo, as he gets involved with what seems to be the Tokyo equivalent of the mafia (Yakusa), meets a girl who, for the first time, almost makes him forget his dead sister for long intervals, and gets in touch with a man who claims to be his grandfather, who provides Eiji with a diary from his days as a kaiten pilot during World War II. He absconds to the house of his boss’s sister, and reads anthropomorphic short stories written by her; finds an alternate reality in roleplaying video games and contemplates whether his father is a politician, a member of the Yakusa or a doctor. If that’s not enough drama, his estranged mother tries to get back in touch with him, and the new wife of his father threatens him.

The book is fast-paced, interesting, and draws you in. There are characters you love, characters you hate, disturbing scenes you can vividly imagine in your head (e.g. when he goes bowling with a man who promises him information about his father), and all this mingled in with the overactive imagination of the author. Sometimes, you aren’t sure if what you’re reading is real, or just a dream, and sometimes, you just end up hoping it’s dream...

Overall, for me, a 7/10.