Number9Dream in David Mitchell Appreciation

Dec 22, 2011 s.penkevich [mental health hiatus] rated it really liked it

Shelves: literary-pulp, mind-and-genre-bending

'Maybe the meaning of life lies in looking for it.'
Like the song by John Lennon which inspired the title of this novel, David Mitchell plays with the fusion of dreams and reality as he sends the reader spiraling through the chimerical passages of Number9dream. This second novel is a departure from the multi-storied structure of Ghostwritten, instead closely following one character. However, it is anything but a simple linear plot and Mitchell shows once again that he can dazzle and dance throug ...more

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Feb 23, 2011 Ian "Marvin" Graye rated it it was amazing

Shelves: reviews-5-stars, reviews, read-2012, mitchell

How Will I Know?

Whitney Houston sings, “How will I know if he really loves me?”

Pop Music asks some of the most probing questions we can imagine.

Many of them are secular versions of Spirituals, Gospel Music or Hymns.

How will I know if He really loves me?

How will I know if He really exists?

How will I know if He’s really there?

What would I say if he insists?

(Sorry, that last one slipped in from my review of "Glee: How to Plot an Episode in 70 Words".)

To which the tabloid press add:

How could I tell ...more

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Nov 07, 2011 Steve rated it really liked it

You know those compound German constructions, like schadenfreude, comprised of dissimilar single words? Well, I’ve got a new one that ought to exist if it doesn’t already. It’s schadenselbstungeduld, which translates roughly to “the sadness of your own impatience.” Maybe you can guess why I’m bringing this up. I’ve had a bad case of it since last month when I joined the ranks of several Goodreads friends who have read all five of the David Mitchell books. We’re now waiting long days, weeks, or, ...more

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Oct 11, 2012 Stephen M rated it it was amazing

Shelves: metafictive-madness, thinking-of-a-dream-i-had, mentions-mitchell, tears-of-beautiful-laughter

A Study of Tales or
“Like watching a musician play his scales very, very well”

Source

The tension between style and substance dominates a significant portion of the David Mitchell conversation. Fairly consistently Mitchell’s writing falls into the style side of this writing dichotomy. As with anything, it's an issue of taste for anyone who has dipped their hand into the creative writing pot. It splits writers of all different stripes, in genre, literature or otherwise with geniuses on both sides. A Study of Tales or
“Like watching a musician play his scales very, very well”

Source

The tension between style and substance dominates a significant portion of the David Mitchell conversation. Fairly consistently Mitchell’s writing falls into the style side of this writing dichotomy. As with anything, it's an issue of taste for anyone who has dipped their hand into the creative writing pot. It splits writers of all different stripes, in genre, literature or otherwise with geniuses on both sides. To me, the definitive distinction falls between those one care more about the content that the words purport to signify versus those who care more about the words themselves, deriving aesthetic pleasure from the effect that words can have, even if tangentially related to their referents. Finding a particular niche in workshops and MFA circles, accusations of purple prose and self-indulgent descriptions fly freely from minimalist tongues towards those of the latter camp. I am an inveterate defender of that latter camp. I've always considered content to be accidental; I read literature because I love words. I want to be dazzled by what they are capable of on their own, unburdened by the requirements of their referents.

I think anyone with a taste for poetry and excessive prose will agree with these sentiments. When I declare Mitchell a brilliant writer, I don’t mean it any capacity to strip down the prose and tell some brutally honest tale in the Hemingway sense; he’s not in that business. I don’t mean to say that he spins out a deft plot, a wildly original story (he wears his influences on his sleeves) but rather, I mean that David Mitchell is a level-ten wordsmither, capable of making any situation, no matter how banal or derivative come alive with soaring prose.

Goatwriter, the stutterer, writes an untellable story

I think that the frustration that most people find with this book is that it's scatterbrained and unfocused. My previous apologetic move was to point out a flaw in Mitchell’s ambition that he tried to cover too much ground and was unable to make good on his original intentions. Upon a second reading, I now see that the book is exactly as it should be. What seems to be a mess of splintered threads and tangential story lines is really the product of a book about the search for meaning. As it is with any book that treats this topic (Crying of the Lot comes to mind), it is part of the function of the book to simulate the frustration that arises from seeking meaning out of a chaotic external world.

On the one hand, Mitchell is showing us all the literary gymnastics he is capable of pulling off. On the other hand, he is imbuing us with the experience of Mr. Eiji Miyake, a twenty year old cast away in the big city for the first time, confronted with first loves, loss of innocence, struggling to find out what it is that matters to him. Of the thousands of avenues into the buildingsroman, Mitchell takes this route, an exploration into the fertile time period of your 20's ripe with existential crises, one night stands and cigarettes.

Confusion is justified. On my first reading, I was thoroughly confused by the misadventures of Goatwriter in his anthropomorphic fantasy land. Now it is my favorite part of the book. It is full of genuine hilarity and brilliant wordplay and it highlights the struggle to reach some elusive, ultimate meaning. It seems so ineffable. The only true story and the ultimate meaning therein is the one that hasn’t been told, the ninth dream that begins when all other dreams fall away.

Meaning is what we intuit from disparate facts after we’ve exhausted all immediate evidence.

The ninth dream is a blank slate for the reader to project his/her meaning upon the book.

The final words of anything hums with significance, a real goosebump affair that sends the reader back to the beginning to begin his search for meaning all over again. ...more

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May 30, 2008 Cecily rated it really liked it

Shelves: china-japan-asia, miscellaneous-fiction, mitchell-uber-book

Set in Japan in the present or perhaps the near future, with several versions of early bits of the plot. Is it real or is it a computer game - certainly he plays computer games?

Some wonderful metaphors and some ludicrously contrived and awkward ones. Too much organised crime and mindless violence for my taste, with little of the beauty of his other books to provide balance or contrast. (Number 9 Dream is a Beatles song that plays at a disco in Black Swan Green, which I reviewed HERE.)

See also M ...more

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May 30, 2008 Madeleine rated it liked it

Shelves: our-libeary, head-in-the-clouds-nose-in-a-book, 2012

I am so torn over this book! But I figure that being this conflicted between ratings probably means that I should err on the side of the fewer stars. Still: My kingdom for a half-star option!

There are lots of things I liked. Eiji, the main character, remains likable even as he's shuttled between hell and back, like, five thousand times in 400 pages and disappointed by nearly everyone who matters to him. There's a chance that his blossoming relationship with Ai contributed to my increasing fondne I am so torn over this book! But I figure that being this conflicted between ratings probably means that I should err on the side of the fewer stars. Still: My kingdom for a half-star option!

There are lots of things I liked. Eiji, the main character, remains likable even as he's shuttled between hell and back, like, five thousand times in 400 pages and disappointed by nearly everyone who matters to him. There's a chance that his blossoming relationship with Ai contributed to my increasing fondness for him but I'm okay with that because their last exchange of the novel was so believably reminiscent of what it's like to be 20 and falling hard for someone you don't quite know. I liked the dreamy, Murakami flavor, especially after finding out that Mitchell counts him among his influences (according to the internet, which I totally trust all the time). I liked the David Mitchellness and how minute details wind up mattering very much, though I think his hallmarks are far less defined here in his sophomore effort than they are even in his debut novel. References to "The Man in the High Castle," "The Wind-up Bird Chronicle" and some music for which Eiji and I share an affinity were all tasty bonuses -- what can I say? I've got a mile-wide soft spot for fictional characters who have the same tastes as I do.

But there were also things I wasn't so crazy about in this book. It felt a little disorganized, which, intentional or not, didn't sit perfectly well with me. Some characters and a few scenes hogged a few too many pages: Had I found Eiji a little less interesting, the many detailed accounts of his odd jobs would have been downright tedious. And, okay, fine: The ending was a little too abrupt for me to be satisfied with it. Though I suppose having my way would mean that every book I ever read is at least 100 pages longer than the author intended.

Ultimately, this book suffers as "Player Piano" did, in that I'm cherry-picking my way through a writer's back catalog instead of chronologically working my way to the newer stuff: When I was planning this winding-down tour of my literary favorites' unread offerings, I actively chose "Number9dream" over "Thousand Autumns" in anticipation of that very reason. The lingering, negligible sense of dissatisfaction this book left me with is very much appeased by knowing that my sole remaining to-read Mitchell book is his most recent piece. ...more

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