Collegiate Times

Have you ever looked at the sky and pondered the immensity of the universe?

Even if you're not a philosophy major, the novel "Cloud Atlas" by David Mitchell gives the reader an idea of such universal immensity. The book is divided into six different stories that alternate in chronological order and differ by genre. Mitchell proves the versatility in his writing style by starting with a "Heart of Darkness" style tale in the South Pacific that both opens and closes the novel. In ascending and descending order, however, this moves from the South Pacific to the tale of a musical prodigy in Belgium who finds the journal of Adam Ewing, the man sailing across an undiscovered world. Flash to the 1970s, Buenas Yerbas, where the novel again jumps forward in time, in this occasion to journalist Luisa Rey, who has found pages of the prodigy's diary.

Starting to get the idea? I've tried to remain spoiler-free because the progression of the book was truly a pleasure. It can't be elaborated enough how Mitchell demonstrates a mastery of the genres he writes in the book.

The narrative of a post-apocalyptic Earth and the struggle of a man that must travel through it darkly contrasts with the comedic edge of the stories.

Though many would classify this book as science fiction, doing so greatly sells this work short. Though there are chapters in the middle section that are definitely of the science fiction genre, I found them to be lacking the hooks that kept me so involved throughout the large duration of the novel. It might just be my personal distaste for sci-fi that turned me off - an immediate reaction due to my fascination with the stuff in middle school - but it seemed out of place in the otherwise brilliant literary structure.

That leads us to another interesting point regarding the book's pace, which makes the linear order less cohesive and, in some portions, a struggle. Ultimately, however, this is what helps to make the novel so fantastic. Not only does Mitchell captivate with the genre demonstrations, he also manages to portray the fractured literary consciousness of what is known as post-modernism with remarkable ease.

In some sections, such as the Luisa Rey thriller, this portrayal feels like a scathing critique against "The Da Vinci Code" and it's ilk. When he ended her progressions with a dangling cliffhanger, it was notably forced. The mystery manages to stay shockingly plausible, which is more than I can say for the four Dan Brown novels I've read.

What elevates the novel beyond a majority of it's modern peers is the author's understanding and recording of the human experience throughout the novel. For all the genre elements that are easily noticed on the surface, they are superseded by the human condition that pumps blood through the heart of the story. We cannot help but feel for these characters, hurtling toward self-destruction, justice and redemption. We can only sit back and appreciate the journey that's taken them to these conclusions.

Mitchell effortlessly does with a single novel what post-modern writers seem to have been struggling with for decades: Bare essential human truth in fiction with a cleverly structured, easily absorbed, thematically complex work. Though we cannot change the course of any characters in the novel, we can empathize and know the connection that binds together a common humanity. A must read.