Cloud Atlas—A Book Review
I think I am not made out for long novels like Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. I begin to think of the futility of it all as I did in ‘A Hundred Years of Solitude.’
I suppose I should stick to crime novels of the Agatha Christie kind. Getting too old for these tongue twisting novels.
Of course I loved the first six stories but then the pidgin English of Zachry exhausted me. I just could not pick up the glass again. It was ‘enough no more it is not so sweet as before.’
I loved Timothy Cavendish. I loved Robert Frobisher. I loved Zachry and the Prescient Meronym.
The magician in David Mitchell; the Merlin of literature just sort of monopolized the conversation. It was like a brilliant school play that would not end.
I think if I get younger, I will read it again.