Final Thoughts

The three novels that we have read so far in AP English all end with conclusions that have left me unsatisfied. I understand that their endings add to the final development of their themes, yet, none of the endings truly compare to the endings found in Cloud Atlas. In the last pages of each part of the sextet, David Mitchel completes each character’s story with final contributions to key themes.

Sloosha’s Crossin’ An’ Ev’rythin’ After

“I watched the clouds awobbly from the floor o’ that kayak. Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an’ tho’ a cloud’s shape nor hue nor size don’t stay the same, it’s a cloud an’ so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud’s blowed from or who the soul’ll be ‘morrow? Only Sonmi the east an’ the west an’ the compass an’ the atlas, yay, only the atlas o’ clouds.” (308)

As I reread each ending it becomes increasingly apparent how they influence the reader’s perception of the novel’s themes. Throughout the first five sections I noticed the comet shaped birthmarks appearing on each main character. Yet, none of the characters acknowledge the concept of reincarnation until Zachary does in this section. As Zachary says a cloud’s shape and hue may vary it’s still a cloud, which allowed me to begin to understand how the central characters in Cloud Atlas share a soul and possess key similarities. One of the most striking illustrations of this concept was when Frobisher begins to refer to himself as “Frobisher the stinker […] and Frobisher the Composer […]” (469) just as Zachary does in his section. Both of their characters struggle to do “the right thing” and continually question their own behavior. Yet, their questioning is not necessarily a negative aspect of their character as it demonstrates their consideration of what is right and wrong.

The Orison of Sonmi-451

“We see a game beyond the endgame […] As Seneca warned Nero: No matter how many of us you kill, you will never kill your successor.” (349)

When the archivist and Sonmi first introduce the fact that her journey was arranged and that declarations are flaunted by Unanimity as evidence for further constriction of the rights of the fabricants, I was greatly dismayed. However, Sonmi’s perspective convinces the reader that there still is hope her declarations could have a positive impact. An idea can truly become a movement when it is spread throughout a society. Regardless of how the declarations are introduced, they are spread all throughout Sonmi’s society, which could have a future impact. Sonmi’s use of Seneca’s warning illustrates how Corpocracy could finally fail. They may kill all the fabricants they desire, yet, they will eventually be succeeded and their successor may fail to carry out their work. Societies can never last forever, as displayed by the presence of Zachary’s story. Mitchell would have us believe they will cycle in an orbit as suggested by the comet shaped birthmark found on every character.

The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish

“Middle age is flown, but it is attitude, not years, that condemns one to the ranks of the Undead, or else proffers salvation. In the domain of the young dwells many an Undead soul. They rush about so, their inner putrefaction is concealed for a few decades, that is all.

Cavendish’s tale truly offers a “ghastly” perspective on the consequences of aging and joining the ranks of the elderly. He fights his forced captivity in the Aurora House and finally achieves escape with two fellow captives. His successful escape appears to suggest that age is not truly a number but rather an attitude. Although Cavendish is not characterized as exceedingly brave or strong, in fact the opposite may be true; he does not have an “Undead soul”. Rather than admitting to the terrifying wrath of Nurse Noakes and company, Cavendish constantly pursues escape even after he suffers a stroke. His dedication in the pursuit of his goal is admirable and is paralleled in other sections such as Luisa Rey’s.

Half Lives: The First Luisa Rey Mystery

“Are molecules of Zedelghem Chateau of Robert Frobisher’s hand, dormant in this paper for forty-four years, now swirling in my lungs in my blood? Who is to say?” (436)

I was not as impressed by the story of Luisa Rey. Her determined investigation of the danger of the Swannekke B reactor and the corruption behind its construction and operation was commendable. However, she had to be saved rather often throughout her journey and never successfully outwitted her pursuers alone. The ending to her tale offers a logical transition in the second section of Robert Frobisher’s story and provides further evidence of reincarnation.

Letters from Zedelghem

“Time cannot permeate this sabbatical. We do not stay dead long. Once my Luger lets me go, my birth, next time around, will be upon me in a heartbeat. Thirteen years from now we’ll meet again at Gresham, ten years later I’ll be back in this same room, holding this same gun, composing this same letter, my resolution as perfect as my many headed sextet. Such certainties comfort me at this quiet hour.” (471)

I still puzzle over the ending to Robert Frobisher’s tale. It bothered me how positive a light it paints on his decision to take his life. His certainty that he would return, that the events captured in “Letters from Zedelghem” will continue to occur, aligns with the theme of reincarnation being a cycle. Yet, this does not qualify as proper justification for taking your life. Frobisher idea that life should be spent like a firework, bright and fast, bothers me to a degree. Although I enjoyed how Mitchell illustrates how problems such as discrimination permeate all societies and how people will always fight such problems, I did not understand how this allowed suicide to be acceptable.

The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing

“If we believe that humanity may transcend tooth  & claw, if we believe divers races creeds can share this world as peaceably as the orphans share their candlenut tree, if we believe leaders must be just, violence muzzled, power accountable & the riches of the Earth & its Oceans shared equitably, such a world will come to pass. I am not deceived. It is the hardest of worlds to make real. Torturous advances won over generations can be lost by a single stroke of a myopic president’s pen or a vainglorious general’s sword.” (508)

The concept of believing in such lofty goals for humanity would have stuck Ewing as pointless at the beginning of his journey; yet, when Autua saves him from the brink of death, Ewing’s perspective greatly changes. He shakes off the prejudicial views held by the despicable men who surround him. Ewing understands that a perfect world with just leaders and equitable sharing of resources is the “hardest of worlds to make real”, but he is not intimidated by this reality. The novel as a whole illustrates why one should have hope for humanity. Each character, possessing the same soul, resists an aspect of their society and fight for what they believe is just. Although their actions could easily be scraped by a single malicious leader as Ewing notes, the book ends on a brighter note. Ewing ends his journal with: “‘& only as you gasp your dying breath shall you understand, your life amounted to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean!' Yet what is any ocean but a multitude of drops” (509), giving the reader hope that each person can have an impact on the world.

Quarter 4 (Pages 291-509): Why AP?

The structure of Cloud Atlas truly sets the book apart. At first the shocking leaps forward in time were slightly confusing; however, as the novel concludes, descending in reverse order, it becomes apparent how critical the structure is in developing the characters whose worlds share key similarities. It allows the reader to observe the connections between characters and different time periods as the book progresses from the past into the future. The names of the characters may change but some of their significant qualities the issues they face remain the same. Cloud Atlas's complexity alone makes it an AP worthy text. Throughout all of the different sections Mitchell develops his many recurring themes allowing for the accumulation of enough evidence to write an essay about almost any topic.

The story begins and ends with the diary entries of Adam Ewing an “‘American Notary of Letters & Law’” (477). In my first blogpost I discussed how Ewing appeared to be a hypocrite. Even though he helps Autua, a black stowaway slave, attain a position aboard the prophetess, other actions prove that he truly does not believe in equality. The conclusion to Ewing’s story offers the reader a much different perspective of the man. During his journey Ewing meets a preacher who rants about how the “Highest of all the races on this ladder stands the Anglo-Saxon. The Latins are a rung or two below. Lower still are the Asiatics-a hardworking race, none can deny, yet lacking our Aryan bravery” (487). Ewing struggles to accept such strong discriminatory perspectives and begins to question the whole idea of colonization, pondering the thought that “Maybe the Indians of the Societies & the Chathams would be happiest ‘undiscovered’” (492). These thoughts are encouraged as Ewing observes the destruction of discrimination aboard the Prophetess. One of the younger crewmembers, named Rafeal, is subject to such horrid hazing that he takes his own life. Ewing is struck by the event and the lack of a reaction from the Captain. In the end of the story Ewing teeters on the brink of death, due to a long term poisoning effort by his “friend” Dr. Henry goose. Yet, he is rescued by Autua slave he rescued at the beginning of the story.

Autua’s rescue of Ewing combined with Rafael’s suicide brings Ewing to strong conclusions, which truly summarize key themes from the entire novel. He states “In an individual, selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction” (508). This thought echoes events from previous sections of the book. Luisa Rey exemplifies the opposite of selfishness as she dedicates everything to her pursuit of the Sixsmith report, which uncovers the wrongdoing of a nuclear power company. Her fight against rampant corruption repeatedly brings her within moments of death; however, she refuse to admit defeat until the danger of the Swannekke B reactor is exposed. Ewing decides he must dedicate himself to the Abolitionist cause “[…] because [he] owe[s his] life to a self-freed slave & because [he] must begin somewhere” (508). Although he imagines his father-in-law responding by saying “‘& only as you gasp your dying breath shall you understand, your life amounted to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean’” (509), Ewing states “Yet what is any ocean but a multitude of drops” (509). This thought makes a connection with Sonmi’s section. As Sonmi reveals to the archivist, she was aware to a degree that her journey had been a set up by Unanimity, but that she wanted to finish her declarations anyways. Regardless of the fact that the declarations are flaunted by Unanimity as reasons to suppress the fabricants, Sonmi understands that the distribution of her declarations could possibly influence future fabricants or purebloods. Her action, her drop, could begin to allow fabricants to realize the inequality that they face.

The complexity of Cloud Atlas requires a reader to dedicate too much time for it to be added directly to the curriculum but it should be strongly suggested as a free choice book for ambitious readers. Although I have now written four blogposts about it, I still feel as if I have just scratched the surface of the themes found throughout the entire book.

Quarter 3 (Pages 239-387): Meaning of the work as a whole

After completing five out of the six stories in Cloud Atlas, I am in awe of how David Mitchell has woven numerous themes through each of the stories. Although the novel as a whole travels through time, the problems that plague the world of Adam Ewing persist through each tale. Cloud shows how racism morphs over the course of time; however, it never disappears.

The section titled “Sloosha’s Crossin’ an’ Ev’rythin’ After” brings the reader back to a setting similar to that of Adam Ewing’s tale; yet, it is set hundreds of years in the future. Society has reverted to its simple roots after an event known as the fall. The peaceful Valleysmen live in fear of the “[…] painted savages […]” (240) the Kona. In the Valleysmen society, “[…] if you stole another’s life no un’d barter nothin’ with you nor see your nor nothin’ ‘cos your soil was so poisned you may give ‘em a sickness” (301). The similarities between: the conflict between Valleysmen and the Kona and the conflict between the Moriori and the Maori, in the “Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing, are striking. Through this parallel, Mitchell suggests that time truly does not bring an end to such problems. As long as there is a need for a ruling structure, societies will turn to both violent and peaceful solutions.

+The most rattling scene in the second section of the Orison of Sonmi-451 offers the reader an idea of how her corpocratic society has continued the reign of discrimination. Rather than forcing lower strata purebloods to “[…] work the factory line? Process the sewage? Feed the fish farms? Xtract oil and coal […]” (326), Unanimity manufactures fabricants designed for each task. They condition the fabricants to believe that Xultaion on the island paradise awaits them after their twelve years of service, but they do not fulfill this promise. Instead the expiring fabricants are destined for a “[…] slaughterhouse production line [...] manned by figures wielding scissors, sword saws, and various tools of cutting, snipping and grinding” (343). To prevent the opportunity of rebellion Unanimity breeds fabricants to work as mindless slaves. Unaware of the fact that they will eventually become the “[… the] liquefied biomatter” (343) used to create more fabricants and to feed the new fabricants and rest of the society. How Unanimity abuses the fabricants so mercilessly is shocking as they are basically a step away from becoming a “human” like Sonmi.

The end of the “Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish” gives the reader a startling perspective on our maltreatment of the elderly. Cavendish explains how the elderly “[…] commit two offenses just by existing. One is Lack of Velocity. [They] drive too slowly, walk too slowly, talk too slowly[… Their] second offense is being Everyman’s memento mori. The world can only get by comfy in shiny-eyed denial if we are out of sight” (361).  Cavendish’s depressing narrative about his time stuck in the Aurora house truly forces the reader to really question the depth of their offenses. Although their offenses may not be severe, their sentence is unwilling confinement. Mitchell’s use of Cavendish’s experience being held captive forces the reader to consider the way we treat our elderly.

Cloud Atlas clearly describes how issues such as discrimination will continue to plague societies forever. Mitchell allows the reader to consider how the problems appear in various societies and how they deal with them. Societies must continue to address discrimination in its various forms to prevent its harmful effects.

Quarter 2 (Pages 143-236): Style

The multitude of stylistic devices that David Mitchell uses in Cloud Atlas truly makes the novel one of a kind. In the section titled “The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish,” the main character, Tim Cavendish, directly addresses the reader throughout the section as well as sharing many of his sarcastic observations. This allows the reader to gain a more personal connection with Cavendish, causing the reader to feel greatly distraught when poor Tim finds himself trapped in a retirement home. When the story transitions to “An Orison of Sonmi-451,” the story is told through an interview. I was skeptical how the story could capture my interest, being told in such a flat format; surprisingly the interview allows the reader to explore each detail of Sonmi’s tale. Yet each section ends without a conclusion drawing the reader into the following section to discover new characters and connections.

The manner in which Cavendish directly addresses the reader allows for a personal connection to be developed with his character. Rather than attempting to hide embarrassing pieces of his “ghastly ordeal,” he discusses his embarrassments with a sarcastic tone trying to draw a laugh out of the reader. Even the title is sarcastic. Cavendish agrees that it“[…] is a sappy title,” (147) as his story is more unfortunate than it is ghastly. When Cavendish’s home is being invaded by only three men he says “[…] the door [flies] in off its hinges! I was thinking al-Qaeda, I was thinking ball lightning, but no” (153). His sarcasm is amusing as well as the manner in which he directly engages the reader by noting intriguing elements of his tale. He states how “(You’ll notice, I am always attacked in threes” (153). Mitchell’s use of these techniques draws the reader closer to Cavendish, which strengthens the reader’s reaction to his imprisonment in the Aurora home. The three angry men seek a piece of the fortune that Cavendish reaps after their brother murders a harsh critic. The murder draws a great deal of attention to his novel. In his flight from the three brothers Cavendish encounters a series of unfortunate events. The train that he is riding breaks down, forcing him to look for places to stay. He subsequently searcher for alternative ways to reach what he believes is a safe place his brother has found for him to stay. After reaching the “hotel” Cavendish collapses and immediately falls asleep; yet, he “[... awakes] to discover a not-so-young woman with a pageboy haircut rifling through [his] personal effects like a bargain hunter” (173). He exclaims “‘What the ruddy hell are you doing in my room, you pilfering warty sow” (173). The woman “[…] put[s] down [his] jacket without guilt. ‘Because you are new I will not have you eat soap powder. This time. Be warned. I do not stand for offensive language in Aurora House’” (173). Unfortunately, Cavendish finds himself stuck in a retirement home, where his attempts to escape cause him to be slapped and whipped. His tone transitions from sarcastic to depressed, as he tells the reader “You will not apply for membership, but the tribe of the elderly will claim you. Your present will not keep pace with the world’s. This slippage will stretch your skin, sag your skeleton, erode your hair and memory, make your skin turn opaque so your twitching organs and blue-cheese veins will be semivisible” (180). The harsh end to Cavendish’s story leaves the reader feeling dismayed but not hopeless, which drives the reader to read further into the Cloud Atlas.

Within the first question of Sonmi-451’s interview the reader is caught by her character. The archivist who is interviewing her to record her story before her execution simply states “On behalf of my ministry, this isn’t an interrogation, or a trial. Your version of the truth is the only one that matters;” yet Sonmi answers “Truth is singular. Its ‘versions’ are mistruths” (185). Sonmi’s bold response to a simple statement by the archivist draws the reader to explore her character. Sonmi’s distinction that “Truth is singular” (185) displays her confidence and it sets the tone for the section. Sonmi’s confidence may come from the fact that she is a fabricant, a clone designed to work in a restaurant. Her ascension allows her to develop strong opinions, which would likely conflict with the goals of the ruling body Unanimity. After the statement that “Popular wisdom has it that fabricants don’t have personalities. [Sonmi says] This fallacy is propagated for the comfort of purebloods” (187). In a society with the ability to engineer any type of human through coding of the genome, Sonmi threatens the hierarchal structure determined by the perfection of one’s genes. The archivist understands her significance and tries to draw a clear picture of her development into a sentient being through questions; however, many of Sonmi’s most powerful statements come in response to simple things the archivist states. Mitchell uses the archivist as a springboard for Sonmi’s story to begin from, but Sonmi’s deviations from the set questions display key qualities of her character. Sonmi’s internal conflicts confuse her but when she asks her friend Hae-Joo “[…] how [she] might remedy them. [Hae-Joo] replies ‘You don’t remedy them. You live through them’” (233). Sonmi’s struggle to understand what it means to be a human highlights key questions about the nature of humanity. The manner in which David Mitchell uses a nonhuman character to challenge what it means to be human truly displays the intricacy with which he took in constructing the novel.

Each section of Cloud Atlas has its own unique style. Cavendish’s sarcastic humor differs greatly from Sonmi’s serious tone. Yet, they are both trapped without any hope for escape. The division of the novel into sections causes the reader to see parallels between characters separated by time and location. Although Mitchell’s division of the novel into six separate stories is the most obvious stylistic technique, I felt it would be better to address the connections between the characters and their stories at a later point in the novel.

Quarter 1 (Pages 1-142): Characters

Cloud Atlas has an overwhelming number of characters who live throughout different periods of history. Although the novel lacks chapters, it is divided into sections. In the first 142 pages the reader is introduced to three different stories. The three main characters: Adam Ewing, Robert Frobisher, and Luisa Rey, all seem to share a key similarity. They all appear to have their own contradictions and could be described as hypocrites to a certain degree.

The novel begins with Adam Ewing, an American visiting Chatam Islands. The islands are what we now know as the New Zealand archipelago. Ewing observes the harsh relationship between the violent Maori who were brought to the island by the British and the peaceful, native Moriori, first hand when he watches a Maori master beating his Moriori slave. In a miraculous series of events the slave, named Autua, is snuck aboard the ship that Ewing is traveling upon. Ewing manages to save Autua from certain death by demonstrating to the Captain his worth as a hand aboard the ship. Ewing appears to believe in a certain degree of equality for all races. During a discussion of the goal of colonization he “‘[…] protest[s], to civilize the Black races by conversion should be our mission, not their extirpation, for God's hand had crafted them, too’” (16). The British men in the tavern respond properly to Ewing’s protest calling him out on the fact that “‘[… the British] abolished slavery in our empire-no American can say as much’” (16). Ewing shows pity for Autua and speak as though he believes in a state of partial equality, but his thoughts prove otherwise. While walking through a village on the island Ewing notes that a woman "[…] has a tinge of black blood & I fancy her mother is not far removed from the jungle breed" (6). It would be ridiculous to argue that Ewing truly believes in equality. Ewing reflects the actions of his country the United States. Ewing and the US may flaunt ideas such as the statement that all men are created equal, but in reality only rich white men are of acceptable status. Rich, white, men like Dr. Henry Goose who warns Ewing, “‘It’s one thing to throw a blackie a bone, but quite another to take him on for life! Friendships between races, Ewing, can never surpass the affection between a loyal gundog & its master’” (37). Advice that Ewing would abide by as it would be outrageous for him to consider the slave Autua a friend. Ewing is a perfect representation of the United States (in this time period) as he may act as though he believes in equality, yet, at his core it is clear that he is racist.

Robert Frobisher introduces himself as “[…] a Caius Man, teetering on the brink of destitution” (44). Yet, Frobisher manages to afford travel from England to Belgium where he seeks employment as an amanuensis for an aging composer. Along the way he declines an offer to sell cutlery kindly “[…] confess[ing] [he]’d rather swallow cutlery than ever have to sell the stuff” (46). He also buys a large batch of pastries, which he shares with a witch and “[…] another pastry with five thousand pigeons, to the envy of the beggar, so I had to give him one too” (48). Considering how Frobisher has stated that he is “[…] teetering on the brink of destitution” (44), it seems slightly suspicious that he would decline a promising job offer so quickly and would buy so many pastries and share them so generously. It becomes apparent that Frobisher is truly not like the “Whiskered mandarin ducks [that] honk for bread, exquisitely tailored beggars […]” (54) which he believes are “[…] rather like [him]self” (54). Frobisher manipulates his audience like he manipulates the people around him. He tries to win the reader’s sympathy; however, many of his thoughts make you question his true feelings. Frobisher is hired by Vyvyan Ayrs to work as his assistant, recording Ayrs new works onto paper allowing Ayrs to continue to compose. Yet, Frobisher is not satisfied with the credit Ayrs pays him. During a rant Frobisher says to himself “I’m his bloody general and he’s the fat old Turk reigning on the memory of faded glories” (83). Frobisher does not hold proper respect for Ayrs’s work as a composer, and he has betrays him by sleeping with his wife. The one thing about Frobisher that always holds true is that as he “Assure[s] [Ayrs’s wife] I’ve really never loved anyone except myself and have no intention of starting now […]” (85). Although Frobisher may say this in a joking manner to Jocasta, Ayrs’s wife, the statement is startlingly true. Frobisher acts as though he is deserving of the reader’s sympathy; however, he is truly a cunning manipulator who cares only for himself.

Luisa Rey is a reporter pursuing the cover up of a major design flaw in the Swannekke B nuclear reactor. Luisa is relentless in her questioning of the events surrounding the case. Even when her boss warns her that her “[…] article on this unsubstantiated cover-up at Seaboard will, frankly, leave [her] old, sick, and weak” (109), she does not let the case go. When Robert Sixsmith, the man who was going to give her his report on the reactor, is found dead and the police release a statement saying that it was suicide, Luisa refuses to believe such a claim. She says “He was getting ready to go public […] This is what the truth cost him” (114). Luisa’s uncompromising approach to her investigation of the Swannekke B reactor is valiant; however, I was surprised at how quickly she trusts the people she meets with during her investigation. After a late night with Isaac Sachs, one of the scientists who worked with Sixsmith, Luisa is very close to possessing a copy of Sixsmith’s report. Yet, the following morning Joe Napier says to Luisa “‘Isaac Sachs sends his sincere apologies, but he’s got to stand you up’” (133). Although Luisa is dismayed that Isaac is gone, she fails to realize the danger that she is in. She trusts that Joe Napier’s excuse for Isaac’s absence is legitimate. When Fay Li, a receptionist at Swannekke, says to Luisa “‘If there comes a time when you want to discuss matters weightier than how many French fries the Swannekke engineers consumer per annum […] such as the data on the HYDRA reactor as compiled by Dr. Sixsmith, purely for example, I guarantee you’ll find me much more cooperative than you think’” (137). Luisa believes Fay Li immediately and even wonders to herself “What level of deceit is permissible in journalism” (137). Clearly Fay Li is deceiving Luisa as she “[…] searches Luisa Rey’s room swiftly as the sun sets” (135) before she meets Luisa for dinner. Luisa’s refusal to believe the cover up of the Swannekke B reactor is admirable; however, her immediate trust in the people she meets during her investigation contradicts how critically she inspects the other elements of the case.

Cloud Atlas’s format forces the reader to consider the characters in a unique manner. Without knowing the conclusions to the stories of these three characters, it makes it difficult for the reader to understand how each character changes. It forces the reader to draw connections between the Ewing, Frobisher, and Rey, that would not be as apparent if all of the stories were told from start to finish.  Ewing, Frobisher, and Rey all appear to have their own contradictions. These contradictions could possibly disappear as they develop in the concluding part of their stories.