Ben McNally is a bookseller in Toronto, and has been diligently foisting good books on people for more than thirty years.
A Thousand Praises: The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet
Can there be a novelist at work as enterprising and as skilled as David Mitchell? Over the course of his previous four books he has consistently dazzled, has consistently surprised, and has pushed the boundaries of the form. His books invariably involve and respect the reader, and always in unexpected ways.
His sparkling new novel, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, is as fine and satisfying a tale as you could hope to encounter. This is a book that evokes the great storytellers like Dumas; it is grand and boldly ambitious in its sweep and exhilarating and masterful in its delivery.
Jacob de Zoet finds himself in 1799 on the fabricated settlement of Dejima, an "island" built on pilings off Nagasaki. Japan is a guarded society, closed to foreign influence, and Dejima is the only concession the ruling Shogun will make to Europeans, in this case the Dutch East Indies Company, eager to open up trade with the Japanese.
Not only are the Japanese extremely suspicious of the Europeans, but they also live in a very rigid and controlled hierarchical society. Interpreters are assigned to the Dutch settlement; access, via a land gate from Nagasaki, is otherwise strictly controlled.
The Dutch of Dejima have their own hierarchy, less rigid for the most part but coercive in its own way. All of the Japanese employed by the Dutch are suspected of being spies for the Japanese bureaucracy.
Upon his arrival De Zoet finds himself taking notes as the former chef de mission is relieved of his post and accused of dereliction of duty and embezzlement.
Dejima, it transpires, is an opportunity for people from both cultures to enrich themselves by active participation or by turning a blind eye.
De Zoet, an upstanding and principled young man, is soon at odds with his colleagues, and eventually his career prospects dim.
His life is further complicated when he becomes enamoured of a Japanese woman who is working with the doctor of Dejima.
With seamless ease, Mitchell creates and draws out his characters, and lays the foundation for the events to follow. The Dutch and the Japanese are detailed with exactitude and respect, and the setting, exotic though it is, becomes familiar quickly.
The relationship of the two cultures is equally explored with great care and candour. De Zoet, with his compassion and curiosity, is perfect foil for the mutual suspicion that pervades the interactions between the two camps.
By his open-handedness and his impressive accumulation of detail, Mitchell creates a Dejima that is readily understandable. Most significantly, though, he just keeps adding to our understanding of the place and the people. As the book progresses so too does our understanding of the situation.
Mitchell is an exquisite writer, and the book is assembled with understated grace. The voices are distinct; the language reflects the culture expressing itself. And one cannot recall a literary (and cerebral) novel as suspenseful as this one, nor one so rich and satisfying. The ending is superb.
When he was denied the Booker Prize for Cloud Atlas, Mitchell was sanguine. Perhaps it was too early in his career to win such a big prize, he opined.
Now, undoubtedly, is the time. This is a masterpiece.
Can there be a novelist at work as enterprising and as skilled as David Mitchell? Over the course of his previous four books he has consistently dazzled, has consistently surprised, and has pushed the boundaries of the form. His books invariably involve and respect the reader, and always in unexpected ways.
His sparkling new novel, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, is as fine and satisfying a tale as you could hope to encounter. This is a book that evokes the great storytellers like Dumas; it is grand and boldly ambitious in its sweep and exhilarating and masterful in its delivery.
Jacob de Zoet finds himself in 1799 on the fabricated settlement of Dejima, an "island" built on pilings off Nagasaki. Japan is a guarded society, closed to foreign influence, and Dejima is the only concession the ruling Shogun will make to Europeans, in this case the Dutch East Indies Company, eager to open up trade with the Japanese.
Not only are the Japanese extremely suspicious of the Europeans, but they also live in a very rigid and controlled hierarchical society. Interpreters are assigned to the Dutch settlement; access, via a land gate from Nagasaki, is otherwise strictly controlled.
The Dutch of Dejima have their own hierarchy, less rigid for the most part but coercive in its own way. All of the Japanese employed by the Dutch are suspected of being spies for the Japanese bureaucracy.
Upon his arrival De Zoet finds himself taking notes as the former chef de mission is relieved of his post and accused of dereliction of duty and embezzlement.
Dejima, it transpires, is an opportunity for people from both cultures to enrich themselves by active participation or by turning a blind eye.
De Zoet, an upstanding and principled young man, is soon at odds with his colleagues, and eventually his career prospects dim.
His life is further complicated when he becomes enamoured of a Japanese woman who is working with the doctor of Dejima.
With seamless ease, Mitchell creates and draws out his characters, and lays the foundation for the events to follow. The Dutch and the Japanese are detailed with exactitude and respect, and the setting, exotic though it is, becomes familiar quickly.
The relationship of the two cultures is equally explored with great care and candour. De Zoet, with his compassion and curiosity, is perfect foil for the mutual suspicion that pervades the interactions between the two camps.
By his open-handedness and his impressive accumulation of detail, Mitchell creates a Dejima that is readily understandable. Most significantly, though, he just keeps adding to our understanding of the place and the people. As the book progresses so too does our understanding of the situation.
Mitchell is an exquisite writer, and the book is assembled with understated grace. The voices are distinct; the language reflects the culture expressing itself. And one cannot recall a literary (and cerebral) novel as suspenseful as this one, nor one so rich and satisfying. The ending is superb.
When he was denied the Booker Prize for Cloud Atlas, Mitchell was sanguine. Perhaps it was too early in his career to win such a big prize, he opined.
Now, undoubtedly, is the time. This is a masterpiece.
