This is probably the best-known of Mitchell’s works, not least because it was made into a film starring Tom Hanks and Halle Berry. It’s a novel comprised of a series of nesting narratives, commencing in the colonial South Pacific, travelling through inter-war Europe, 70s California and futuristic Korea, and reaching a zenith in post-apocalyptic Hawaii, before a decrescendo back down the same path.
There are a lot of things I liked about this book that might well infuriate others (and, from what I picked up back when the film was released, did). The most obvious is the suggestion that characters appearing in the various time periods might be reincarnated versions of one another, or otherwise somehow linked through time and space. This gives even the more conventional earlier narratives a fantasy flavour. There’s the tracing of a continuum of capitalist enterprise, from the exploitation of colonialism through 20th century corporate corruption to its logical extremities, which ultimately culminates in the destruction of civilisation. I mean, I’m cool with it while remaining part of the problem, but you know. Awkward. It’s also, for a bestseller, an unconventional structure, which might not be to everyone’s taste.
In spite of all these ticked boxes, though, I did in the end feel it lacked a certain heart. Maybe I was spoiled by The Bone Clocks, which I largely adored, and which had the advantage of a continuous protagonist despite its structural similarities (both could also be rightly accused of being a little preachy in parts). The links between the various strands of the novel certainly felt a little forced at times, especially in the second half. So, enjoyable, but did not, in my opinion, live up to the hype.