This list will be simple enough; I am going to list each book I read since sometime in mid-June (which happens to be about as far back as I can remember with certainty). I'll write a short bit about each book.

The Golden Bough by Sir James Frazer

In Progress

Blindness by Jose Saramago

In Progress

The Feast of Love by Charles Baxter

Meh. I'd say this is the most mediocre book I have read in a long time. It was strongly recommended to me by a friend and, since it was a finalist for the National Book Award a few years ago, I thought it might be worth reading. Now I remember why I respect the Booker Prize so much more than the National Book Award. The novel was fine—I'm not sorry I read it—but it is really not much more than a good story without a lot of substance behind it. I prefer novels that are more likely to make me ponder. The one literary element that really had potential, the book's namesake painting, was woefully underused as nothing more than an explanatory device. Probably not an author I'll try again.

The Structure of Scientific Revolutions by Thomas S. Kuhn

This proved to be much more fascinating than I'd feared. It's also been a sharply controversial book that has become known as one of the most influential books of all time regardless. Nominally, it is a theory on how scientific revolutions come to pass: the events that trigger them, the forms they take, and the path to their general acceptance. If you've ever heard of a scientific paradigm, this is where the notion comes from. This work, especially its notion of multiple perceptions of the same world, has also been applied to other disciplines outside of science. Highly recommended.

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

A thoroughly refreshing African American novel. It is a story that touches less on racism (though it is there as an important subtext) and more on the lives and loves of the characters who are trapped within their own culture. However, Nattie and those around her do get out of the white culture for awhile, only to find that the basic human condition is unchanged no matter where one happens to be. Regardless, the book does wonders with unique, inspiring characters who grow and change over the course of the story and ultimately are able to locate themselves within the context of their surroundings. A book that definately gives a large nod to the works of Zora Neale Hurston.

White Noise by Don Delillo

No one is tapped into the dark underside of contemporary American culture like Don Delillo is. In White Noise, Delillo explores death and humanity's fear of death in an insightful and uniquely contemporary way. This may sound boring, but Delillo is an absolutely hilarious and fascinating writer. His philosophical dialog, while utterly unrealistic, is entertaining and astonishing in its complexity of ideas and connections. It is pure pleasure to read what his characters have to say about culture and all that it implies, especially in Delillo's conception of the new forms of dying unique to our time.

Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

This is the latest book by my favorite contemporary author. Like Ghostwritten and number9dream, this is written in Mitchell's near-trademarked transparent writing style. As a result of style and attention to detail, his chracters are well-realized and either highly likable or despicable as the situation calls for. For me, the best part is the usually deft manner in which he is able to employ his themes and literary pyrotechnics without sacrificing the enjoyability of the story. If you're interested in the nature of reality, destiny v. agency, post-colonialism, and human nature (among other themes), this is one highly enjoyable novel.

The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud

*Yaaaawn* I decided to read this book because it is the foundational text of the psychoanalytic school of literary criticism. T.S. Eliot, among others, lists it as an inspiration. Since lit crit is my bag, I thought I might as well read it. Yes, it is an important book about the reason why we dream and the processes that take place. It's ideas of displacement, condensation, wish-fulfillment, etc. are all important to literature, but this is the driest book I've ever read. Despite the clear, easy writing, it was a very difficult book to get through.

The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Fredrick Engels

This short and extremely influential document is the ideology that the USSR and communist China founded their governments upon. It is indeed incentiary writing about how the "history of civilization is the history of class struggle" and as capitalism continues to exploit the workers (the proletairat) and thereby widening the social gap between them and the upper-middle class (the burgiose), a revolution was inevitable. He proceeds to outline what this is going to look like and what the results will be. Unfortunately, he frequently indulges in questionable logic, incorrect assumptions and worst, an assuption that once the proletariat is in control, they'll want to give up their power eventually. Hah!

Brave New World: Revisited by Aldous Huxley

I read this directly after finishing Brave New World. This is Huxley's big, long essay where he essentially says: "see how fucking right I was?" His thesis is that the society he envisioned in Brave New World was coming to pass far more quickly than he imagined. He then goes on to detial the steps that are inexorably leading to our descent into totalitarianism. At the end, he suggests systems of eduction that he sees as the only way to prevent this almost certain and horrible future.

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

This novel centers around outsiders: sane men in insane societies where art, beauty, and all the profound things in life are replaced with the sensual pleasures. Huxley envisioned this as the ultimate totalitarian state: one where everyone is happy and content with their stations in life, but no one is as free as they think. People are born into the system, live their lives in it, and die in it without ever realizing it exists.

The Call of the Wild by Jack London

I think I originally read this in 6^th or 7^th grade. I remember thinking it was okay, but not as good as White Fang. Well, it's a lot better than I remember. Aside of it's being about a dog, it's also about spirit, survival, will, and the primitive forces in anyone. It's a quick and easy read that I would recommend to anyone.

Animal Farm by George Orwell

I first read this as a sophomore in high school and remembered little-to-noen of it. On rereading it, I must say it was more enjoyable than I remembered. It is far from a "great work" in a literary sense, but it is a thorough, scathing, yet truly fair and honest satire about why communism can never work: humans (er, I mean pigs) do not have the necessary moral character to deny the corrupting influences of great power.

I, Claudius by Robert Graves

This novel truly surprised me. I had never heard of it before reading this list, and probably never would have pick it up either. Historical fiction has never siezed my interest. However, this is a fascinating book that is beautifully written and packs some very subtle satire and characters worth rooting for.

Walden by Henry David Thoreau

Wow. I did not particularly enjoy this book. Some parts are fascinating, but his experiment in natural living and in a more honest human economy just does not ring true to me. I can accept pieces of his arguments as useful, but on the whole, I'm far from a disciple. His indictment of society aside, I just don't find his alternative views as an improvement.

Discipline and Punish by Michel Foucault

Once again, Foucault is showing us that everything we know is wrong by tracing the history and evolution of discipline and punishment from the stocks and public executions of the 18th Century to the modern penitentiary system. He argues that despite the good intentions of the modern penal system, it has failed in its noble aims. What's more, on some level, society knows it has failed, but keeps it around anyway because it serves as a method of control which we cannot give up.

To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

This was my first Woolf novel. While it wasn't as difficult to read as I had been led to believe, it was difficult to gain an understanding of. That said, I found it a rewarding novel with some provocative existential and pyschological insights.

Howard's End by E.M. Forester

A surprisingly excellent book. It is simply and elegantly written, and easy to understand and appreciate. There are also more issues than I can begin to discuss simmering beneath the surface. However, one way to read it is a chronicle of the changing culture of England in the early 20th century. It's much more interesting than you heard.

Sailing to Byzantium

That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglected
Moments of unageing intellect.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart way; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take
My body from from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

—William Butler Yeats

Review: Cloud Atlas

I remember the first I ever heard of David Mitchell was when a friend of mine came back from touring europe with a copy of Mitchell's second novel, number9dream before it was released in the U.S. Well, he told me I had to read it. I loved it—lyrical, exciting, and intelligent. The novel went on to be shortlisted for the Booker Prize. I went back to read his first novel, Ghostwritten, and while I enjoyed it, it had it's failings. I thought number9dream while in no way a perfect book, was an improvemnt. When I first heard about his third novel, Cloud Atlas, I was both excited and anxious at the same time. I was excited for the obvious reasons—I love this guy's smart, almost poetic, yet clear writing. I was anxious because it sounded a lot like Ghostwritten in its structure (in that it is comprised of separate but intertwined stories about diverse people), which I thought was Ghostwritten's biggest failing. So what did I ultimately think about Cloud Atlas?

It's the best of both worlds as Mitchell's most ambitious and polished work to date. Instead of the loosely related, chronolocigally concurrent stories of Ghostwritten, Cloud Atlas uses stories that are temporally dispersed, instead of just geographically so, and for the most part Mitchell manages to avoid the biggest fault of Ghostwritten, the stories all have a powerful and recognizable impact on their flanking stories without seeming so contrived it takes away from the story. The story of an American Notary crossing the Pacific in the 1860's has an impact on the story (not just plot-wise, but thematically was well) of a Belgian composer in the 1930's which effects the story of the 1975 story of a Californian investigative journalist who recurs in the next story of an elderly editor in conteporary London who has an influence on the story of a Korean genetically engineered slave in the near future who in turn figues prominently in the central, post-apocalyptic world of young Hawaiian tribesman. However, let me sneak in a word on the novel's structure: unline Ghostwritten, in which each story was told in its entirety at once, each story in Cloud Atlas is divided right down the middle into two halves. The first half of each story is told in ascending chronological order. Then, when we get to the post-apocalyptic story, it is told in its entirety before the other five stories finish themselves up in reverse chronological order. Hence, we start in the 1860's, and we end in the 1860's. Each story is nested inside the chronologically earlier ones, and each contain the chronologically later ones inside. This structure is in no way a mere gimmick. Mitchell uses it to produce quite an effect.

During the chronologically progressive first half of the stories, Michell begins to unfold for the reader that what is happening in each story is contributing, seemingly inexoriably, to the bleak future of mankind. Mitchell seems to say that, given the prevalent greed in human nature, that's where we're going to end up, no matter what. Hence, he sets up the theme that figures so prominently in the end of Ghostwritten: the role of human agency in the face of the seemingly contradictory facts of human nature. However, nothing in any of Mitchell's novels is quite that simple. As the stories begin to unwind, we begin to see the role choice has played in all this, and we see the hope for mankind's future that each story's second half produces after the seeming condemnation of the first half of the book. We get to see the impact each character's life has on the lives of the other characters. It's something of a surreal experience to read.

Now, I also said that Cloud Atlas Also includes the best parts of number9dream. While the overall structure and driving force of the novel is descended from Ghostwritten, the novel's lighter, more playful side descends from number9dream. Like Mitchell's second novel, Cloud Atlas is very playful as far as what is real and what isn't. Again, it's up to the reader to decide what to believe and how exactly each episode relates to those other episodes surrounding it, and then what kind of impact that level of reality in that story has on the novel as a whole. It also incorporates the exciting aura of Mitchells narration and language found in number9dream along with philosophical moments that are out of place in the real world, but fit right into the context of Mitchell's novel as they do into the works of Don Delillo. We also get the depth of character in at least four out of these six stories that we get with Eji in number9dream that Ghostwritten didn't have time for. These characters have history, emotion, vulnerability, and the ability to adapt and change.

It's these literary hijinx that turned off many average readers to number9dream but that also got it shortlisted for the Booker. My recommendation? It's a FREAKING NOVEL. Let it be; let it tickle your brain; don't judge it's realism based on the standards of George Eliot. You'll be missing out on ever so much fun. Think of it as going to the circus: everyone likes watching the acrobats. David Mitchell is often a literary acrobat—it isn't something you see in everyday life, but it's sure fun to watch. Just flow with them—let them enrich your understanding of what Mitchell is trying to create without getting hung up on the thought that "I don't believe this." People seem quite willing to suspend belief for The Matrix, Star Wars, or The Lord of the Rings, but they get hung up on a literary novel.

Is this the greatest novel ever? No. As you can see, I give it four stars. It's amazing, and I wouldn't be saddened to see it get nominated for (or win) the next Booker, but Mitchell has not yet written his masterpiece. Often, he still comes across as heavy-handed, especially in his criticism of colonialism (massive running theme) and human nature. (For him, they are rather blurred together—something he tends to do much more often than many other British Post-Colonialist writers.) Also, occasionally he telegraphs a plot twist, gives us a not-quite-satisfying climax, or wraps up a story a little too quickly. These faults are most evident in the sixth story, but they occasionally become evident in almost every story to some extent with the notable exception of the story of the Belgian composer (this is the story that really ties the whole novel together, and is probably the single best thing Mitchell has ever written).

But overall, I highly recommend this book to previous Mitchell fans—it's definately his most well-rounded book—and I would also recommend this to fans of authors such as Jeanette Winterson, Don Delillo, Salman Rushdie, and others of their ilk. If you didn't much care for either of Mitchell's books, I don't really think it'll change your opinion.

Another Horrifying Review

I suppose I'm starting to make this a regular thing, but how can I not when I run into reviews this bad on Amazon. I don't have anything against the review per se, but I can't think of a human being who would be less enjoyable to meet...this coming from an arrogant prick like myself. No, seriously.

What is so great about Gatsby?, July 29, 2004

Reviewer: 10th grade honors student (Plano) - See all my reviews

As a certified genious I was elected representative of my 10th grade honors English class to comment on this book, I being ever so qualified. At this point, I shall briefly switch over to Latin to demonstrate how smart I am. Hic liber legendo multae ponderosae rei fert. Primo de vita elegantissimus liber est. Et si quis dilegenter leget, augebit diginitatem vitae. Having demonstrated my qualifications, let me continue. The Great Gatsby is a book by Fitzgerald who wrote a lot of books and stuff, some of which have been turned into movies, some of which include Robert Redford whom all the girls in my class think is really good looking, but, frankly, I don't see it. Anyway, this Western yabo moves from out west as a neaveau riche (excuse the French) and doesn't understand how stuff is done in Eggton, NY. See, he lives on one egg, the one for his kind, and the establishment who wants to keep him down lives on the opposite egg, symoblized by a light, which many consider green although I doubt we should take it literally. Green could stand for any "cool" color, couldn't it? Yes it could. Well he falls in love with a "femme fatale", and bizarre and often tedious mishaps, comical in a darkly humorous way pop up and, wouldn't you know, he goes to England where the Earl of Essex gives him the moniker "great", which neatly wraps up the book as he avenges his insult by overthrowing the capitalist swine who kept egging him on (pardon the pun). But, as Goethe once said, "Ich hasen gern essen obwohl eier am besten sind" Anyway, untill next time:

--An honors student from Plano

Either this whole review is a joke, or this kid's in for a lot of disappointment in life. I can gaurantee it's one or the other.

I Could Breathe This Stuff

Gawd I'm a whore for ontological subtexts in my fiction. For example:

One model of time: an infinite matryoshka doll of painted moments, each "shell" (the present) encased inside a nest of "shells" (previous presents) I call the actual past but which we perceive as the virtual past. the doll of "now" likewise encases a nest of presents yet to be, which I call the actual future but which we perceive as the virtual future.

This kind of stuff really gets my literary motor going. Here it's pretty straight forward. However, I'm aiming at a rather ambitious project on the front of perceptions of reality in PoMo fiction. However, that paper is a looong way off. I have a lot of reading to do first: five books on theory that I want to read and then re-read all the novels I wish to employ. However, this may turn out to be my graduate school writing sample. It's certainly more ambitious than anything I tried as an undergraduate.

The Origin of Benji

The jackass finally gets it:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle;
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

My favorite quote in Shakespeare—'nuff said.

I Am Not Impressed

I wonder why I'm not more invested in politics than I am; why don't I seem to give much of a damn? I'm not saying that I don't care at all, but I have even been surprising myself with my apathy lately. Seriously. I mean, I'll vote, but I won't be voting for John Kerry, I'll be voting for the "Not-George-Bush" guy who is most likely to win—who just so happens to be Kerry. I always feel that as long as the country I'm living in is not committing any unjustifiedly sinister actions, I'm fine with whomever is leading. (Well, an upbeat economy is always nice too.) It is simply evident that I am not living in such a place under GDubya's quasi-leadership.

Don't get me wrong, I have as many opinions and beliefs on what should be done and what is right as anyone, I just realize that what I think has nothing whatsoever to do with reality. Actions are the only form of expression that matters—truly doing something that makes a difference; and I don't mean trying to change other people's minds. Changing other people's opinions to match mine does not make either my opinions or theirs any more relevant to reality than my opinion alone. For example, I can believe a wall is not really there—that it's really just an illusion. I can then walk at that wall as if it were not there and see how little what I believe has to do with reality when I smack my face on sheet rock. Now, if I can manage to convince someone else that the wall is an illusion (so that they now agree with me), does that make the wall less real than when I was the only person believing that? Of course not. It doesn't matter how many people I can get to agree with me, the wall still fucking exists. No, changing the minds of others doesn't make any difference if you're not also willing to be a leader and go out, get your hands dirty and accomplish something. The only way to be right that the wall doesn't exist is to create that reality—to make it honest-to-God real by knocking the fucking wall down.

Now, why that long digression away from politics? I find it silly when I see all these pundits left and right trying to convince me that their way is right and that I really should agree with them—because they are right and everything else is wrong. I mean honestly people! I can believe whatever I want on any issue, but that doesn't make my position right, much less real. People who want gay marriage legalized are no more right than those that don't want it legalized. Either way, believing something doesn't make it happen anyways. What really makes gay marriage real is not a lot of people believing it is right, it's eight couples going out and doing something to make it real.

Do I think gay marriage should be legal? Yes. Does my opinion mean jack shit? Of course not. That would be crazy to think it does. And that is why I cannot bring myself to be a political pundit. I'm not willing to be a leader who will actually physically go out and do something to change what I don't agree with. Unlike most people, however, I'm willing to take responsibility for my laziness and for my fear of getting outside of my comfort zone and putting my ass on the line for what I want to create. Instead, I'm going to sit back in my cozy chair and read, edit, and write about what I want to write about without concerning myself with being heard until I truly have something to say and am willing to get my ass out there and lead others in what I am trying to create.

Yes, I am criticizing people who sit around and talk about their opinions and expect other people to care when they aren't putting their asses in the fire to effect change. Bill O' Riley? Al Franken? Chris Matthews? They may be entertaining, but nothing any of them do has any business thinking they are important or influential. Each of them, and so many others, live in their comfortable little worlds where they don't have to convince anyone who does not agree with them to alter their vote and take a stand for changing the world. Instead, they cater to audiences that already agree with them! If their shows didn't exist, the people who watch them now would hold the exact same beliefs. Those three and those like them haven't changed a mind in their lives.

Even those who do change minds through their blather, while more respectable than the previous category, don't terribly impress me. Changing minds and winning votes on a policy does not equate to the creation of that policy. Take Clinton's Universal Healthcare platform if you want an example of how little changing people's minds translates into reality. Who was the last politician to deliver on even half of his/her policies promised during the campaign? They change minds, but they don't change reality—especially if congress doesn't agree with them. Do we, the people who elect these officials ever hold them to account? No, we cop out behind "Well, he tried..." or "Well, what can I do about it now?" There's plenty any of us can do. It would just be really hard. The truth of the matter is we either a.)pretend we're not important enough and thus avoidign the responsibility we put upon ourselves by electing this person, or b.)we privately admit that we really just aren't willing to go through that much effort because we frankly don't really care. But we'll still timidly whine about it when the reelection campaign comes up—not that that really accomplishes anything. We either vote for the same guy who has already proven that he's unwilling to try very hard to keep his promises, or we vote for the other guy who in turn probably won't keep his promises and we can then whine about him as well. Doesn't this strike anyone but me as ridiculous? Anyways, the point of that whole rant is that I don't want to hear the objection, "But changing minds IS taking action." The creation of reality and the creation of votes are not the same thing. The only consolation is when a vote will almost accidentally end up with one in five promises fulfilled and we'll then act happy to get that much.

If you want an example of what I AM talking about, I point to people who created something with their actions. Martin Luther King created legal racial equality. Ghandi created an independent India. Those may sound like extreme examples. They don't have to be. Those eight gay couples I linked to above are in the process of creating greater equality in Washington state. Michael Moore created a world where one less retailer sells handgun ammunition (and yes, most of the time he does indulge in the less useful forms of self-expression—see above—but sometimes, like this one, he really gets shit done). Does anyone, and I mean anyone think that Moore did anything that any of us (you, me, the guy next door) is not capable of doing? Anybody could have accomplished what he did. If you look at what he actually did, anyone with the intention and the camera could have asked the two kids from Columbine to come along and accomplished the exact same feat. However, we let him do it because it would be really scary to put ourselves on the line for that level of potential failure and embarassment. It was never that we can't do what he did. It's just that we won't. There's a million such things going on beneath our noses—people creating real change—but we're more concerned about what the pundits on CNN have to say. Bullshit.

Can writers and communicators effect real change in the world? I think so. Change cannot happen until an idea has first been expressed. That is the task of the writer/communicator who wants to make a real difference. Their action is first in the creating the possibility of change and then leading others in how to accomplish that end. But I don't see a lot of political writers out there who are trying to improve the basic human condition through the evolution of ideas. I only see them wanting me to agree with them; and, as was established above, that is just about the most useless exercise there is. When someone begins to effect real fucking change in this world, wake me up. I'll take an interest and take action for or against said idea depending on my (worthless unless acted upon) point of view on the matter. Until then, I'll be over here—sitting on my ass and not making a difference outside of the the half-assed action we call "voting."

Maybe I'll come up with that idea that will light a fire under my ass and I'll be willing to put my comfortable little bubble world away and do some significant writing and leading toward real change. But today is certainly not that day. Sure, it sucks to know that I'm not in any way helping to create a better world, but neither are the pundits—whatever they believe. I may not be making my opinions matter, but at least I'm honest with myself as to why not: I'm lazy and I'm afraid of that much work, discomfort, and possible failure. How many of the rest of you are willing to admit the same?

*o* What in the...

There are times when I will amuse myself by checking out bad reviews of well-known novels on Amazon.com. I rarely agree with them, but I honestly don't laugh at them. Everyone's opinion is their own. Mine is no more right than theirs.

I can ususally stick to that philosophy. However, today I came across a review that is the most shockingly bad review I have read in my entire life. When I see the review I copy/pasted below, I can't help but think of the telephone game. It's as if someone read Cat's Cradle and told the plot to someone else who told it to someone else and so on an so forth until the guy who wrote this review was roughly the 10,000^th person to hear it. I never thought I would ever hear a novel by Kurt Vonnegut degraded so. Disliked? Yes. Distrusted? Of course. Disagreed with? Naturally. But never, ever, ever so misrepresented and disrespected. Well, without further preable:

Not As Good as Star Wars, November 17, 2003

Reviewer: vincent vega (Paris, France)

This is a decent sci-fi escape, but nowhere near as good an escape as Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, or Star Wars: A New Hope. This isn't very challenging, and you may feel compelled to read it because of the almost too simple story, and easy going language. This is basically a book about a mad scientist who tries to take over the world by freezing it over with a substance called Ice-Nine, and at the end he succeeds because of his children's greed to control it. Again, not very complex or deep, a basic fable, but still entertaining. But as entertaining as Star Wars? NO. I recommend renting the star war movies or getting the star war books, especially the ones with Jabba the Hut. Cat's Cradle has no point or meaning to it, unlike Lucas's prophetic, amazing vision. Vonnegut is funny, but not very intelligent.

I really don't have anything else to say. Really, what is there? When faced with that level of ignorance, one knows arguing back will accomplish nothing more than silence.

More Silly Ideas

Note to self: sometime, write a story with HTML tags exposed and in a hypertext format. Figure out a way to do links to other sites as the story progresses...on actual paper though; not just online. Ooh, maybe something to the effect of <a href="Appendix Page 22">asejhraqewjth</a> or some such. The actual story will be ridiculously short, but the links will fill out the length. It'll probably suck, seeing as it is overexperimental in nature (and I'm not exactly an accomplished creative writer anyway), but it'll at least be fun to try out.

The Compass an' the Atlas

Well crap. I was already planning an essay on David Mitchell's work (see post from 7/30), but now I see an opening for another. I have yet to finish Cloud Atlas (damn you, Interpretation of Dreams!!!), but I just finished the pivotal chapter and, I must say, he does a wonderful job tying together everything he's trying to do. It'll be a treat as he now begins to unravel it all again. The first 60% of the book is strongly hinting at destiny and inevitability, as if to say, "Humanity is one a one-way course and there's nothing you can do about it." Well, what he actually does say is,

I watched clouds awobbly from the floor o' that kayak. Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an' tho' a cloud's shape nor hue nor size don't stay the same, it's still a cloud an' so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud's blowed from or who the soul'll be 'morrow? Only Sonmi the east an' the west an' the compass an' the atlas, yay, only the atlas o' clouds.

I interpret this passage to hint at a sort of undeniable destiny. We, as humans don't know where the future is going and that we have no control over it. It's in the hands of god, or in this case, "Sonmi." The first part of the quote equates the human soul to clouds. It then details that humanity may not know where either clouds or souls are headed. But God does know, and that knowledge is what is here referred to as "the atlas o' clouds." Consider that an atlas is a form of knowledge of where physical geography is planned detailed. The locations in an atlas don't change and there is nothing anyone can do to alter the truth of an atlas without altering the geography of the earth along with it. We don't have that power. Now consider that Mitchell is suggesting in this passage the possibility that the course of clouds (and therefor souls) is already planned out and detailed in a factual manner in the same way an atlas details geographical features. In other words, there is a true destiny and it is inalterable. However, if that was really Mitchell's ultimate message, he could damn well end the book here.

Instead, I think he'll go on to deconstruct this sense of destiny in the book's second half. I'm basing this assumption purely as how it relates to themes present in his first novel, Ghostwritten, where the characters and stories intersect in an attempt to show that they way they touch and alter each other, ever so subtly, all contribute to ultimately shape the future in ways that are not at all obvious. Hence, he portrays a sense of destiny--or rather, you get the sense that events cannot come out differently than they end up given who these people are. Yet the end of Ghostwritten speaks strongly of choice and being able to shape the future for the good of mankind. Ultimately, Zookeeper learns that there are many divergent paths--he doesn't have to act in one way; his programming is not so hard and fast that it doesn't allow for decisions and choice, however strict and clear-cut the guidelines may have seemed initially.

I think Mitchell will go the same route in Cloud Atlas. As the characters' stories finish, I think we'll get from them something we did not get from their first half--that each and every character was able to shape his or her own destiny, and that human nature is not bound to the track that will lead them to "Sloosha's Crossing." As Mitchell puts it,

List'n, savages an' Civ'lizeds ain' divvied by tribes or b'liefs or mountain ranges, nay, ev'ry human is both, yay. Old Uns'd got the Smart o' gods but the savagery o' jackals an' that's what tripped the Fall.

Now that I look at this quote standing alone, it isn't quite as obvious what I mean as it is within the context of the story, so let me offer a brief explanation of what I think the quote is getting at. Simply put, there are two sides to human nature: civilized and savage. Each person has both natures within him/her, and it is the nature that he/she acts on that decides the course that person's life. Similarly, every individual culture has the same division within the identity of the culture. Some cultures lean more toward savagery and some more toward civilization depending on how the balance of that culture's members. Ultimately, this implies that humanity in general also has this dual nature, and whether humanity ends up being savage or civilized depends on the ratio of savery to civilization of the cultures that combine to make up the human race. So, though it may start with the personal choice of a single person, that one choice has the potential to affect all humanity. Now, Mitchell seems to show the future in Cloud Atlas as inevitable. Yet by speaking as he does in this passage, he's implying that though it may seem insignificant at the time, there really is choice in how the future will unfold, and each person is a part of that choice that humanity as a whole will eventually have to make.

This isn't meant to be a full-fledged essay, I'm not even done with the book. Rather, it should at least remind me in the future of a point I'd like to develop more thorougly.

To anyone who reads this, I apologize for subjecting you to what is really no more than an exercize to work out the thoughts I'm having on the subject before they disappear.