The Little Dog Laughed

I reached page 86 of Cloud Atlas and that seemed a good place to pause and consider whether I wanted to go on, as the Frobisher sequence had ended and another new sequence was about to begin. It was with very little difficulty that I decided I had no wish to continue. Frankly, I was finding the book dull.

As was blindingly obvious, Frobisher stole from his host and patron. As was painfully predictable, he also started having sex with Mrs host and patron. It's like Birdsong all over again. I find it ironic that I mentioned Birdsong in my first post on this book and that the word 'birdsong' actually appears in a section dealing with this tedious interaction between the two. Is this kind of story so very common? Do people really enjoy reading it that much? I wasn't enjoying reading it at all. And eh, when a character has sex with anyone who asks, whether for pleasure or for money, it's not all that interesting. There's no conflict, no sparring, no negotiations, nothing for the reader to savour. Boring.

Still no sfnal elements. I've seen authors pulverised by critiquers for not hinting at the SFFy bits on page one. But by page 86 you'd expect a glimpse or two. Nope. Nothing.

Where the book is successful is that the first person narrative by Ewing is nothing like that by Frobisher. The distinct voices are very successful. Unlike in, say, The Historian, or The Time-Traveller's Wife, you don't need to be reminded every five minutes that the narrator has changed. So that aspect of the book is in fact excellent. In the absence of any other excellent aspects, however, it wasn't enough to keep me reading. Alas.