One of those books that makes the reader think, find connections, interpret meanings and ponder.
Review -
Such a fabulous debut this is, makes me wonder at the effort taken to give a piece sparkling of sheer brilliance. A piece did I say, several pieces integrated into a piece it should be. My initial rating was 4, but during the process of reviewing it is 5. Couldn't be less, could it be more? Definitely if possible, this is a 5+
Nine stories, each one geographically and conceptually different, can be considered separate stories with eerie, unexpectedly jerky endings, but ending are they? When compiled with the characters carried on to the subsequent chapters, readers start wondering about all possible connections and eventually build a virtual cobweb around them.
I did not read any other information about the novel which I usually do. It was just pure, going with the flow kind of reading until Mongolia, and half way through Mongolia as the ghost/soul/spirit/artificial intelligence starts telling it's story and quest, the connections surfaced a little and I went back to rereading the first three chapters which sounded different the second time. Mongolia was a revelation.
Holy Mountain was another classy story, a chapter prior to Mongolia, of a woman battered and finding strength and solace from a talking tree, well, a talking spirit in a tree. All through Mongolia and Holy mountain Mitchell writes of the politics in these places, the face of communism that brought it's fall.
Petersburg is about a theft in an art museum, that is itself no less than a painting or that is how it struck me. The woman Margarita Latunsky paints a colorful picture in the reader's minds that is just out the rustic China. A sudden spurge of golden and red to the dusty brown. Several connections make their appearance in this chapter that ends a rude shocker.
London, the chapter I loved more, laughed at times, through my commuting. Loved Alfred's shadow story and the casino and the ending. If Petersburg left me sad and void, London left me happily satiated. It was at this point that nothing mattered any more to me.
Regarding the other chapters, Okinawa was a simple one, very simple, and totally detached Me reading. Tokyo makes for a Murakami wound up high. The saxophone player passes breezily. Hong Kong was darkly witty, and I am sure Neal is the first character any reader would start liking immediately. This is when the presence of the ghost is introduced but instead of the expected creepy moments it was totally laugh-out-loud moments, courtesy Neal. I loved the writing on Love in this chapter. Awesome it is. But I really hoped the ending stayed corrected in a subsequent chapter.
Clear Island is more technical and having a responsibility to connect the puzzle was less impressive comparatively. Feynman, Planck and Schrodinger appear in this chapter. This is when I understand the communication between the various souls of the previous chapters in a scientific way.
Night Train was current affairs as telecast by a popular RJ. The entire chapter was read in RJ style by my mind with the static intact, as listened to while looking up on a dark, starry night sky. This chapter is when I felt the magic of the book got lost. No doubt the topics discussed here are real, but they sounded more oft repeated, usual, cliche.
And the book ends with the Okinawa incident ending in a different way. Is this an ending in an alternate universe, I wonder. Again why this ending when the first chapter closed with Quasar making a safe exit towards the school after the train incident?
I wonder what happened to him, I wonder what happened to all of them, this wondering is the nature of matter, each of us a loose particle, an infinity of paths through the park, probable ones, improbable ones, none of them real until observed whatever real means, and for something so solid matter contains terrible, terrible, terrible expanses of nothing, nothing, nothing . . .
So, yes my discontent continues no doubt, but the book in general outweighs and hence the change in the rating.
Review -
Such a fabulous debut this is, makes me wonder at the effort taken to give a piece sparkling of sheer brilliance. A piece did I say, several pieces integrated into a piece it should be. My initial rating was 4, but during the process of reviewing it is 5. Couldn't be less, could it be more? Definitely if possible, this is a 5+
Nine stories, each one geographically and conceptually different, can be considered separate stories with eerie, unexpectedly jerky endings, but ending are they? When compiled with the characters carried on to the subsequent chapters, readers start wondering about all possible connections and eventually build a virtual cobweb around them.
I did not read any other information about the novel which I usually do. It was just pure, going with the flow kind of reading until Mongolia, and half way through Mongolia as the ghost/soul/spirit/artificial intelligence starts telling it's story and quest, the connections surfaced a little and I went back to rereading the first three chapters which sounded different the second time. Mongolia was a revelation.
Holy Mountain was another classy story, a chapter prior to Mongolia, of a woman battered and finding strength and solace from a talking tree, well, a talking spirit in a tree. All through Mongolia and Holy mountain Mitchell writes of the politics in these places, the face of communism that brought it's fall.
Petersburg is about a theft in an art museum, that is itself no less than a painting or that is how it struck me. The woman Margarita Latunsky paints a colorful picture in the reader's minds that is just out the rustic China. A sudden spurge of golden and red to the dusty brown. Several connections make their appearance in this chapter that ends a rude shocker.
London, the chapter I loved more, laughed at times, through my commuting. Loved Alfred's shadow story and the casino and the ending. If Petersburg left me sad and void, London left me happily satiated. It was at this point that nothing mattered any more to me.
Regarding the other chapters, Okinawa was a simple one, very simple, and totally detached Me reading. Tokyo makes for a Murakami wound up high. The saxophone player passes breezily. Hong Kong was darkly witty, and I am sure Neal is the first character any reader would start liking immediately. This is when the presence of the ghost is introduced but instead of the expected creepy moments it was totally laugh-out-loud moments, courtesy Neal. I loved the writing on Love in this chapter. Awesome it is. But I really hoped the ending stayed corrected in a subsequent chapter.
Clear Island is more technical and having a responsibility to connect the puzzle was less impressive comparatively. Feynman, Planck and Schrodinger appear in this chapter. This is when I understand the communication between the various souls of the previous chapters in a scientific way.
Night Train was current affairs as telecast by a popular RJ. The entire chapter was read in RJ style by my mind with the static intact, as listened to while looking up on a dark, starry night sky. This chapter is when I felt the magic of the book got lost. No doubt the topics discussed here are real, but they sounded more oft repeated, usual, cliche.
And the book ends with the Okinawa incident ending in a different way. Is this an ending in an alternate universe, I wonder. Again why this ending when the first chapter closed with Quasar making a safe exit towards the school after the train incident?
I wonder what happened to him, I wonder what happened to all of them, this wondering is the nature of matter, each of us a loose particle, an infinity of paths through the park, probable ones, improbable ones, none of them real until observed whatever real means, and for something so solid matter contains terrible, terrible, terrible expanses of nothing, nothing, nothing . . .
So, yes my discontent continues no doubt, but the book in general outweighs and hence the change in the rating.
