Number9Dream (2001)

It's not as dazzling as Cloud Atlas or as, well, perfect as The Thousand Autumns of Jacob deZoet, but this is a solid book. Mitchell hasn't disappointed me yet. ( )

Flawed but has several flashes of brilliance, particularly near the beginning. ( )

I have previously read Mitchell's first and latest books (Ghostwritten and Bone Clocks) and enjoyed them so much that I started going though his other works. Number9dream is his second book. While there are flashes of brilliance, it is not up to the level of the others - I wonder if this was due to pressure on a new writer to deliver a follow-up to Ghostwritten?
The opening to this book reminds me of Ghostwritten - great verve and flair, but it is not sustained. While there are well crafted characters, and the beginnings of a theme, the plot is inconsistent, and you get the feeling that the book was started before the author knew where it would end.
I'm glad I read it, and a not-so-good Mitchell book is still better than most of the dross out there, but I'm now looking forward to his later, and hopefully better crafted, books. ( )

If a writer is too technical, or wishes to show off, it draws attention to the writing instead of the story. That's how number9dream starts. Then, as if to address my concerns it goes to a more conventional narrative. The problem is that neither style is really working for him. I greatly admire him as an author as you can see from my ratings, but this is not for me. ( )

I want to say, "It was me, it wasn't you," to this novel. She and I just didn't click. She's obviously got a lot going for her besides her perfect neck, including a horribly pretentious style and a vividly dramatic penchant for detail, but while I had a very good time with some of his other novels all lined up in a row like some Voltron Robot of literature, this one just seemed to go on and on with rambling and disjointed plot-lines that EVENTUALLY, like, at the END wrapped up into the Matrix-Style "This Is Only A Dream" Science Fantasy extravaganza with immortal witches and people Outside Of Time that so punctuated his other novels.

Don't get me wrong. I really wanted to like her. The novel feels just as epic as a wandering and hopeless kid with a very, very late destiny can aspire to. Maybe I've just run out of patience after getting through so many of David Mitchell's novels. The glorious bits are glorious, the normal bits are strongly detailed and interesting in their way, and the density of ideas is sometimes an awesome pleasure to behold.

But the overall structure of these monstrosities?

I Just Don't Know. I feel like I'm trying to suck a fifth of Whisky from a bottle left unbroken. I want to love the insanity and I want to love sheer chutzpah. It's always a heavy mix of traditional literature, fascinating locations, interesting peoples, and OUT-THERE SF to tie it all together like a nightmare or a dream.

Indeed. A dream. *sigh*

I'm sorry, number9dream. It was me, not you. ( )