![]() ![]() So we come to his latest, the hefty Utopia Avenue, which is the story of the rise and fall of a rock band in the late 1960s. I’ve carried on reading him dutifully since, but nothing has come close to the heights of Cloud Atlas, and each new novel is met with a mixture of hope and the sense that he’d pulled a fast one on me with the glory of his one-hit wonder. I devoured his other novels and waited eagerly for new work. I was in my early 20s when it came out and remember pressing it on everyone I knew. ![]() It was a gloriously inventive mind-storm of a novel, leaping wildly through time and space, seemingly unconstrained by the narrative gravity that pins other books to the ground. I may never forgive David Mitchell for writing Cloud Atlas. ![]()
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