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.