2013년 9월 9일 이후 누적수치입니다.
Now a major motion picture starring Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Susan Sarandon, and Hugh Grant, and directed by Lana and Andy Wachowski and Tom Tykwer
Includes a New Afterword by David Mitchell
A postmodern visionary who is also a master of styles and genres, David Mitchell combines flat-out adventure, a Nabokovian love of puzzles, a keen eye for character, and a taste for mind-bending philosophical and scientific speculation in the tradition of Haruki Murakami, Umberto Eco, and Philip K. Dick. The result is brilliantly original fiction that reveals how disparate people connect, how their fates intertwine, and how their souls drift across time like clouds across the sky.
“[David] Mitchell is, clearly, a genius. He writes as though at the helm of some perpetual dream machine, can evidently do anything, and his ambition is written in magma across this novel’s every page.”- The New York Times Book Review
“One of those how-the-holy-hell-did-he-do-it? modern classics that no doubt is?and should be?read by any student of contemporary literature.”- Dave Eggers
“Wildly entertaining . . . a head rush, both action-packed and chillingly ruminative.”- People
“The novel as series of nested dolls or Chinese boxes, a puzzle-book, and yet? not just dazzling, amusing, or clever but heartbreaking and passionate, too. I’ve never read anything quite like it, and I’m grateful to have lived, for a while, in all its many worlds.”- Michael Chabon
- 500년의 시공간을 걸친 여섯개의스토리로 구성된 블록버스터 SF-대서사시
- 흥미로운 6개의 스토리가 정교하게 연결되어 서로 꼬리의 꼬리를 물듯이 구성된 퍼즐조각과 같은 이야기
- 여섯 시대, 여섯 공간의 주인공들이 사실 모두 같은 사람들!! ‘윤회사상’을 바탕으로 구름이 하늘을 흘러가듯 영혼도 여러시대를 흘러 각 다른 시대적,공간적 배경 속에서 그 시대의 문명을 경험한다.
Story1 1849년 태평양 항해
샌프란시스코로 향하는 배를 탄 애덤어윙은항해중 큰 병에 걸리고, 그를 치료하던 동승객 의사에게 의지한다. 그러나 그 의사의 살해대상자가 되면서 생존을 위한 싸움과 모험을 하게된다.
Story2 1931년 벨기에 ~영국
방탕한 생활로 곤경에 처한 젊은 천재음악가 로버트프로비셔. 그는 유명 작곡가의 비서로 지내면서 걸작 ‘클라우드 아틀라스 육중주’를 작곡하지만 유명작곡가의 음모로 저작권을 두고 협박을 받고 파멸 하게된다.
Story 3 1974년 샌프란시스코
핵발전소에 숨겨진 거대음모를 단신으로 추적하는 열혈 여기자 루이자레이의 스릴러
Story 4 2012년 현재 영국 런던
큰 성공을 했으나 주위사람들의 음모로 사채업자에게 쫓기다 강제로 요양원에 갇히게 되는 출판업자. 요양원의 비인간적이고 독재적인 규율에 반항하여, 요양원의 동료들과 탈출 계획을 세워 그 곳을 벗어나게 되는 모험극
Story 5 2144년, 미래국제도시 NEO SEOUL
인간들의 필요에 따라 착취당하다 죽여지도록 계획되어진 복제인간이 만들어지는 미래세계. 자각을 시작한 한 클론이 인간들의 비인간적인 폭력성에 맞서게 되는 SF 액션
Story 6 2346년, 문명이 파괴된 미래의 지구
모든 문명이 인간의 탐욕으로 멸망한 아포칼립스 미래에서 자신의 섬과 가족을 잔학무도한코나족 악당들로부터 지키려고 싸우는 젊은 청년의 액션 활극
Thursday, 7th November-
Beyond the Indian hamlet, upon a forlorn strand, I happened on a trail of recent footprints. Through rotting kelp, sea cocoa-nuts & bamboo, the tracks led me to their maker, a White man, his trowzers & Pea-jacket rolled up, sporting a kempt beard & an outsized Beaver, shoveling & sifting the cindery sand with a teaspoon so intently that he noticed me only after I had hailed him from ten yards away. Thus it was, I made the acquaintance of Dr. Henry Goose, surgeon to the London nobility. His nationality was no surprise. If there be any eyrie so desolate, or isle so remote, that one may there resort unchallenged by an Englishman, 'tis not down on any map I ever saw.
Had the doctor misplaced anything on that dismal shore? Could I render assistance? Dr. Goose shook his head, knotted loose his 'kerchief & displayed its contents with clear pride. "Teeth, sir, are the enameled grails of the quest in hand. In days gone by this Arcadian strand was a cannibals' banqueting hall, yes, where the strong engorged themselves on the weak. The teeth, they spat out, as you or I would expel cherry stones. But these base molars, sir, shall be transmuted to gold & how? An artisan of Piccadilly who fashions denture sets for the nobility pays handsomely for human gnashers. Do you know the price a quarter pound will earn, sir?"
I confessed I did not.
"Nor shall I enlighten you, sir, for 'tis a professional secret!" He tapped his nose. "Mr. Ewing, are you acquainted with Marchioness Grace of Mayfair? No? The better for you, for she is a corpse in petticoats. Five years have passed since this harridan besmirched my name, yes, with imputations that resulted in my being blackballed from Society." Dr. Goose looked out to sea. "My peregrinations began in that dark hour."
I expressed sympathy with the doctor's plight.
"I thank you, sir, I thank you, but these ivories"-he shook his 'kerchief-"are my angels of redemption. Permit me to elucidate. The Marchioness wears dental fixtures fashioned by the afore- mentioned doctor. Next yuletide, just as that scented She-Donkey is addressing her Ambassadors' Ball, I, Henry Goose, yes, I shall arise & declare to one & all that our hostess masticates with cannibals' gnashers! Sir Hubert will challenge me, predictably, 'Furnish your evidence,' that boor shall roar, 'or grant me satisfaction!' I shall declare, 'Evidence, Sir Hubert? Why, I gathered your mother's teeth myself from the spittoon of the South Pacific! Here, sir, here are some of their fellows!' & fling these very teeth into her tortoiseshell soup tureen & that, sir, that will grant me my satisfaction! The twittering wits will scald the icy Marchioness in their news sheets & by next season she shall be fortunate to receive an invitation to a Poorhouse Ball!"
In haste, I bade Henry Goose a good day. I fancy he is a Bedlamite.
Friday, 8th November-
In the rude shipyard beneath my window, work progresses on the jibboom, under Mr. Sykes's directorship. Mr. Walker, Ocean Bay's sole taverner, is also its principal timber merchant & he brags of his years as a master shipbuilder in Liverpool. (I am now versed enough in Antipodese etiquette to let such unlikely truths lie.) Mr. Sykes told me an entire week is needed to render the Prophet- ess "Bristol fashion." Seven days holed up in the Musket seems a grim sentence, yet I recall the fangs of the banshee tempest & the mariners lost o'erboard & my present misfortune feels less acute.
I met Dr. Goose on the stairs this morning & we took breakfast together. He has lodged at the Musket since middle October after voyaging hither on a Brazilian merchantman, Namorados, from Feejee, where he practiced his arts in a mission. Now the doctor awaits a long-overdue Australian sealer, the Nellie, to convey him to Sydney. From the colony he will seek a position aboard a passenger ship for his native London.
My judgment of Dr. Goose was unjust & premature. One must be cynical as Diogenes to prosper in my profession, but cynicism can blind one to subtler virtues. The doctor has his eccentricities & recounts them gladly for a dram of Portuguese pisco (never to excess), but I vouchsafe he is the only other gentleman on this latitude east of Sydney & west of Valparaiso. I may even compose for him a letter of introduction for the Partridges in Sydney, for Dr. Goose & dear Fred are of the same cloth.
Poor weather precluding my morning outing, we yarned by the peat fire & the hours sped by like minutes. I spoke at length of Tilda & Jackson & also my fears of "gold fever" in San Francisco. Our conversation then voyaged from my hometown to my recent notarial duties in New South Wales, thence to Gibbon, Malthus & Godwin via Leeches & Locomotives. Attentive conversation is an emollient I lack sorely aboard the Prophetess & the doctor is a veritable polymath. Moreover, he possesses a handsome army of scrimshandered chessmen whom we shall keep busy until either the Prophetess's departure or the Nellie's arrival.
Saturday, 9th November-
Sunrise bright as a silver dollar. Our schooner still looks a woeful picture out in the Bay. An Indian war canoe is being careened on the shore. Henry & I struck out for "Banqueter's Beach" in holy-day mood, blithely saluting the maid who labors for Mr. Walker. The sullen miss was hanging laundry on a shrub & ignored us. She has a tinge of black blood & I fancy her mother is not far removed from the jungle breed.
As we passed below the Indian hamlet, a "humming" aroused our curiosity & we resolved to locate its source. The settlement is circumvallated by a stake fence, so decayed that one may gain ingress at a dozen places. A hairless bitch raised her head, but she was toothless & dying & did not bark. An outer ring of ponga huts (fashioned from branches, earthen walls & matted ceilings) groveled in the lees of "grandee" dwellings, wooden structures with carved lintel pieces & rudimentary porches. In the hub of this village, a public flogging was under way. Henry & I were the only two Whites present, but three castes of spectating Indians were demarked. The chieftain occupied his throne, in a feathered cloak, while the tattooed gentry & their womenfolk & children stood in attendance, numbering some thirty in total. The slaves, duskier & sootier than their nut-brown masters & less than half their number, squatted in the mud. Such inbred, bovine torpor! Pockmarked & pustular with haki-haki, these wretches watched the punishment, making no response but that bizarre, beelike "hum." Empathy or condemnation, we knew not what the noise signified. The whip master was a Goliath whose physique would daunt any frontier prizefighter. Lizards mighty & small were tattooed over every inch of the savage's musculature:-his pelt would fetch a fine price, though I should not be the man assigned to relieve him of it for all the pearls of O-hawaii! The piteous prisoner, hoarfrosted with many harsh years, was bound naked to an A-frame. His body shuddered with each excoriating lash, his back was a vellum of bloody runes, but his insensible face bespoke the serenity of a martyr already in the care of the Lord.
I confess, I swooned under each fall of the lash. Then a peculiar thing occurred. The beaten savage raised his slumped head, found my eye & shone me a look of uncanny, amicable knowing! As if a theatrical performer saw a long-lost friend in the Royal Box and, undetected by the audience, communicated his recognition. A tattooed "blackfella" approached us & flicked his nephrite dagger to indicate that we were unwelcome. I inquired after the nature of the prisoner's crime. Henry put his arm around me. "Come, Adam, a wise man does not step betwixt the beast & his meat."
Sunday, 10th November-
Mr. Boerhaave sat amidst his cabal of trusted ruffians like Lord Anaconda & his garter snakes. Their Sabbath "celebrations" downstairs had begun ere I had risen. I went in search of shaving water & found the tavern swilling with Tars awaiting their turn with those poor Indian girls whom Walker has ensnared in an impromptu bordello. (Rafael was not in the debauchers' number.)
I do not break my Sabbath fast in a whorehouse. Henry's sense of repulsion equaled to my own, so we forfeited breakfast (the maid was doubtless being pressed into alternative service) & set out for the chapel to worship with our fasts unbroken.
We had not gone two hundred yards when, to my consternation, I remembered this journal, lying on the table in my room at the Musket, visible to any drunken sailor who might break in. Fearful for its safety (& my own, were Mr. Boerhaave to get his hands on it), I retraced my steps to conceal it more artfully. Broad smirks greeted my return & I assumed I was "the devil being spoken of," but I learned the true reason when I opened my door:-to wit, Mr. Boerhaave's ursine buttocks astraddle his Blackamoor Goldilocks in my bed in flagrante delicto! Did that devil Dutchman apologize? Far from it! He judged himself the injured party & roared, "Get ye hence, Mr. Quillcock! or by God's B--d, I shall snap your tricksy Yankee nib in two!"
I snatched my diary & clattered downstairs to a riotocracy of merriment & ridicule from the White savages there gathered. I remonstrated to Walker that I was paying for a private room & I expected it to remain private even during my absence, but that scoundrel merely offered a one-third discount on "a quarter-hour's gallop on the comeliest filly in my stable!" Disgusted, I retorted that I was a husband & a father! & that I should rather die than abase my dignity & decency with any of his poxed whores! Walker swore to "decorate my eyes" if I called his own dear daughters "whores" again. One toothless garter snake jeered that if possessing a wife & a child was a single virtue, "Why, Mr. Ewing, I be ten times more virtuous than you be!" & an unseen hand emptied a tankard of sheog over my person. I withdrew ere the liquid was swapped for a more obdurate missile.
The chapel bell was summoning the God-fearing of Ocean Bay & I hurried thitherwards, where Henry waited, trying to forget the recent foulnesses witnessed at my lodgings. The chapel creaked like an old tub & its congregation numbered little more than the digits of two hands, but no traveler ever quenched his thirst at a desert oasis more thankfully than Henry & I gave worship this morning. The Lutheran founder has lain at rest in his chapel's cemetery these ten winters past & no ordained successor has yet ventured to claim captaincy of the altar. Its denomination, therefore, is a "rattle bag" of Christian creeds. Biblical passages were read by that half of the congregation who know their let- ters & we joined in a hymn or two nominated by rota. The "steward" of this demotic flock, one Mr. D'Arnoq, stood beneath the modest cruciform & besought Henry & me to participate in likewise manner. Mindful of my own salvation from last week's tempest, I nominated Luke ch. 8, "And they came to him, & awoke him, saying, Master, master, we perish. Then he arose, & rebuked the wind & the raging of the water: & they ceased, & there was a calm."
Henry recited from Psalm the Eighth, in a voice as sonorous as any schooled dramatist: "Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou has put all things under his feet: all sheep & oxen, yea & the beasts of the field; the fowl of the air & the fish of the sea & whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas."
No organist played a Magnificat but the wind in the flue chimney, no choir sang a Nunc Dimittis but the wuthering gulls, yet I fancy the Creator was not displeazed. We resembled more the Early Christians of Rome than any later Church encrusted with arcana & gemstones. Communal prayer followed. Parishioners prayed ad lib for the eradication of potato blight, mercy on a dead infant's soul, blessing upon a new fishing boat, &c. Henry gave thanks for the hospitality shown us visitors by the Christians of Chatham Isle. I echoed these sentiments & sent a prayer for Tilda, Jackson & my father-in-law during my extended absence.
1969년 영국에서 태어나 켄트대학에서 영문학을 전공하고 비교문학으로 석사학위를 받았다. 이탈리아에서 일 년을 지낸 후 일본으로 건너가 팔 년 동안 영어를 가르치는 등 세계 각국을 떠돌다가 영국으로 돌아와 소설을 쓰기 시작했다.
1999년 첫 소설 [유령이 쓴 책]을 발표한 데이비드 미첼은 단숨에 평단과 대중의 주목을 받는다. 그해 35세 이하의 영국 작가가 쓴 최고 작품에 주어지는 존 루엘린 라이스 상을 수상했고, 가디언 신인 작가상 후보에 도 올랐다. 2001년에는 [넘버 나인 드림]으로 맨부커상, 제임스 테이트 블랙 메모리얼 상 후보에 올랐으며, 2003년 <그랜타> 선정 ‘영국 최고의 젊은 작가 20인’에 이름을 올렸다.
2004년 [클라우드 아틀라스]로 맨부커상 최종 후보에 올랐고, 2007년 <타임> 선정 ‘세계에서 가장 영향력 있는 100인’에 뽑혔다. 2006년에는 [블랙스완그린]이 <타임> 선정 ‘올해 최고의 책 10권’에 뽑히기도 했다. 2010년 발표한 [야코프의 천 번의 가을]은 맨부커상 후보에 오르고 커먼웰스상(2011)을 수상했다. 2014년 [본 클락스The Bone Clocks]를, 2015년에는 트위터에 연재한 단편소설을 발전시켜 [슬레이드 하우스]를 출간했으며, 한강, 마거릿 애트우드 등과 함께 ‘미래 도서관’ 프로젝트의 작가로 선정돼 2144년에 공개될 작품을 쓰기도 했다.
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