Tag Archives: fiction

A reader’s review of ‘Cloud Atlas,’ the movie (versus the book)

I’m an unabashed fan of the novel “Cloud Atlas,” so I was pretty nervous about the idea of a movie. After the critics panned it, I should have been forlorn, right? But I saw it for myself and loved it, really loved it.

The reviews of the movie “Cloud Atlas” have struggled to summarize its storyline because its based on a novel that heaps storyline upon storyline and leaps from one time period to another. It’s about a young attorney in the 1700s on a voyage through the South Pacific who succumbs to a strange illness and tries to help an escaped slave. It’s about a dashing young musician in the 1930s who wins an apprenticeship with an aging composer. It’s about a muck-raking reporter in 1970s California who tries to expose a cover-up at a nuclear power plant. It’s about an aging English publisher in the 1990s; he’s unwittingly committed to a nursing home by his malicious brother. It’s about a science-fiction future, when a clone tries to escape enslavement from “corpocracy” and inspires others to rebel. And it’s about the farther future, after “The Fall,”  when humanity tries to put itself back together in Hawaii after apocalyptic cataclysm.

Like most postmodern or post-postmodern novels, “Cloud Atlas” the book reminds readers constantly that what they’re reading is fiction. Its purpose is to layer multiple stories on top of each other so that a larger, different story emerges, much the way impressionist painters layered paint on canvas. It’s not a traditional narrative, but a story of ideas.  “Cloud Atlas” then becomes a meditation of how the strong prey on the weak, how the predators justify their actions, and how the weak find ways to resist.

The movie, interestingly, embraces most of the novel’s strange quirks and narrative play. (It also takes some interesting liberties with the book’s plot.) This isn’t a movie with a beginning a middle and and end, but many beginnings, many middles and many endings.

Different actors play different roles in the film, and some have suggested that one way to read this casting is as the same souls traveling through time. I would reject this reading of the progression of souls — even if the filmmakers intended it. For one thing, the idea doesn’t make much sense, and in the movie there’s no natural sense of how the characters are particularly connected. And for another thing, some of the actors are in such heavy make-up that you can’t even tell it’s the same actor. (I strongly disagree with the reviews that claim the actors always remain recognizable.)

So then why do I think this casting “works” anyway? Because it reminds you that the specific stories are connected thematically, not literally. It’s like a live stage play where the actors play different roles; it serves to remind you that you are watching a narrative that was created by human beings to explore ideas.

I went to “Cloud Atlas” with someone (Mark) who hadn’t read the book. He said he enjoyed the movie and could follow it easily; it wasn’t as complicated as the reviewers would have you think. So with all that in mind, I would urge you to see “Cloud Atlas”. It doesn’t tie up all the loose ends in a big bow or end with a big musical number. Instead, it’s just an interesting, beautiful movie that will make you think.

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PowellsBooks.Blog – Powell’s Q&A: Chad Harbach – The Art of Fielding

PowellsBooks.Blog – Powell’s Q&A: Chad Harbach – The Art of Fielding

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Review: Memorable characters in Chad Harbach’s ‘Art of Fielding’ explore human condition through baseball – St. Petersburg Times

Review: Memorable characters in Chad Harbach’s ‘Art of Fielding’ explore human condition through baseball – St. Petersburg Times

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Review: In ‘Caleb’s Crossing’ by Geraldine Brooks, Puritan woman and Harvard’s first American Indian graduate challenge beliefs – St. Petersburg Times

Review: In ‘Caleb’s Crossing’ by Geraldine Brooks, Puritan woman and Harvard’s first American Indian graduate challenge beliefs – St. Petersburg Times

Book talk on ‘The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet.’

I wrote this book talk on “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet,” by David Mitchell. What is a book talk? It’s a short presentation a librarian gives when she’s suggesting books for recreational reading. I learned how to give book talks in the Adult Services class at the University of South Florida’s library school, a class taught by the exemplary Dr. Kathleeen de la Pena McCook.

I don’t work in public libraries now, so I don’t have cause to write many book talks, and I wrote this one only because I liked the book so much and would like others to read it. Librarians, steal this book talk!

Book Talk on “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet,” by David Mitchell (paperback)

David Mitchell is one of those authors who seems to enjoy defying easy categories. In the course of a single book, he can go from historical adventure to detective mystery to science fiction. Or, he might write an autobiographical novel of a boy growing up in England in the 1980s against the backdrop of the Fauklands War. And then there are the literary critics who love him: He’s written five books, two of which have been finalists for the Man Booker Prize. They praise his unorthodox approach to narrative and timeline.

His latest book, “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet,” is a traditional historical novel. It takes place on Dejima, a trading island off the coast of Japan at the end of the 18th century. Jacob de Zoet, a Dutch clerk, arrives at the island charged with rooting out corruption at the trading company. His job is to reconcile the books between the Dutch traders and their Japanese hosts, keeping a special eye out for embezzlement and thievery. While working on Dejima, he falls in love with a young Japanese woman, Orito Aibagawa. Orito is studying with the island’s physician in order to become a midwife. She’s a smart, independent young woman who lives in a culture that admires conformity and submission.

Of course, any sort of relationship between the Japanese and foreigners, aside from trading, is forbidden. A romance between Jacob and Orito is impossible. But about halfway through the book, another plot reveals itself: There is a great evil hidden on the Japanese mountainside, in a shrine ostensibly devoted to the prayers of monks and nuns. Orito and Jacob must find a way to oppose that evil and bring it to an end. This struggle propels the rest of the novel forward.

So this is a very literary author taking a different tack and writing something that is essentially historical fiction. Still, most critics gave the book a rave. And well they should have, because “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet” is an engrossing read that like its author seems to enjoy crossing boundaries. At its heart, it’s a love story, though an unrequited one. It’s also a masculine adventure story, much like “Master and Commander,” told from the point of view of men seeking fortune and pursuing acts of bravery. It’s also high literary fiction, with lush and intricate descriptions of 18th century Japan, the land of a thousand autumns, from which the novel gets its name. Consider immersing yourself in the world of “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet.”

The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman

This novel is a deceptively charming slice of life at an English-language newspaper in Rome. It cuts back and forth between profiles of the people who work there today — the obit writer, the copy editor, the Paris correspondent — and a history of the paper’s founding to its hey-dey to its current decline.

If you have a nostalgic love for newspapers, you should read this. The characters are fascinating and funny, from the wheedling business reporter who’s a fool for love to the obit writer who decides to claw his way to the top. But know that things will not end well. The newspaper doesn’t even have a website, and the owners are tired of pouring money into a hole.

One thing that nagged, though, is I felt like the author had a slight mean streak toward his characters that seemed to become decidedly more cruel as the novel moved toward its end. Not to give away too much, but the chapters got darker — a girlfriend’s betrayal, the macabre death of a dog — as things went along.

Then later, I was thinking, maybe that meanness is meant to parallel the demise of the newspaper. Maybe the author’s making the point that it’s a mean world that no longer has a place for an eclectic, old-fashioned expat newspaper. At least that was my interpretation.