![]() ![]() ![]() Until it stumbles ass-backwards down the shared universe hole, and lands right next to the pile of Stephen King books that have also fallen down the shared universe hole. The book wavers between a gritty, realistic depiction of late 60s England and a starry-eyed idealist version with all the rough edges sanded down before lurching heavily in the latter direction, which is a bit of a let down, but still: a fun read. If you’re willing to get onboard with such an act of obvious self-indulgence, and if you can look past the fact that a novel about the Power Of Music is inherently not going to be able to communicate that power particularly well, then Utopia Avenue is a pretty fun read. Like early fanfic writers putting self-insert characters onto the bridge of the Enterprise, Mitchell is vicariously experiencing a time and a place that he wasn’t around to witness via his fictional bandmates (and having those bandmates write lyrics which are both reproduced in whole or in part for the reader, and which are highly praised by actual famous musicians-always a dangerous game, although for what it’s worth I personally think Utopia Avenue’s lyrics are quite good). So to an extent this entire novel is fanfiction on the part of Mitchell. Often these meetings happen at locations where you would expect to bump into such people in 1967 (backstage at Top Of The Pops, fancy parties where the hosts are deliberately inviting famous musicians), but there’s also a random David Bowie encounter that even Bowie admits he has no real reason for being present for, among others. Utopia Avenue is, at first glance, a more down to earth story than his other work, being about a fictional London band in 1967 rising to stardom alongside the many musical legends that arose from that particular time and place.ĭavid Mitchell is very keen on letting you know about those legends: up until the point where I abruptly stopped reading, the only real issue I had with the story was the egregious celebrity cameos, as our young band members cross paths with seemingly every major figure in the overlapping music and underground scenes (Francis Bacon! Jimi Hendrix! Jimmy Savile! Janis Joplin! Leonard Cohen! The Rolling Stones! John Lennon!). I thought it was decent, but not decent enough that I was motivated to go out and read any of his other stuff. Prior to checking out Utopia Avenue, his latest release, I had only read Ghostwritten. Presented for your enjoyment: the thrilling story of why I bailed on a book 85% of the way through.ĭavid Mitchell is best known for Cloud Atlas, which I have not read. I had this post mostly completed before my current round of brain problems kicked off, but I wasn’t able to finish it, so I’m throwing it up incomplete. Note: I’m afraid I’m once again going to have to take a blog break while I get some health issues under control. ![]()
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