Slade House

Now with “Slade House” I am all caught up on David Mitchell’s novels. “The Bone Clocks” blew open my view of the Mitchell-verse, changing my interpretation of his literary world. “Slade House” is most directly related to its predecessor, as it continues the more paranormal/supernatural/science fiction – whatever you want to call it – and is a good follow-up (or maybe even a prequel) as well. The other books, even with all their connections to each other, are more literary fiction, though each is so different in structure and in style. Even within the books there are dramatic changes in voice, setting, and perception.

This latest novel is quite a bit shorter than the previous books, and the language is simpler, for the most part. Recently, his writing seems less adventurous in word play (fewer “gems”) than in plot, making it easier to read in some ways, but perhaps more engaging, and certainly easier to follow. It takes less time to be drawn into the action, but to know what is actually going on, that’s where reading all the books makes a difference: each is like a chapter in a greater meta-book. Without giving away any spoilers, I’ll just say that all of Mitchell’s work makes more sense the more you read it. I read “Cloud Atlas” first, then everything else in the order they were published. Each book is challenging and rewarding, and if you can read them all in order, or in any order, your experience will be that much richer.

Enough about the big picture, time to focus on “Slade House” itself. Being in the “horror” category, it is no wonder this book is creepy. If you know what’s going on, you’ll see that there is a war between two types of quasi-immortal souls. How normal humans get pulled into this war is the terrifying part. If you didn’t know this, you’ll find a more typical haunted house or ghost story, well told on its own. One of Mitchell’s greatest talents is in crafting the voice of so many differing characters – anyone imaginable, it seems – and wrapping the reader up in this conviction. My mental picture while reading “Slade House” was very clear when it needed to be, and foggier when called for.  Part of me wanted to wait to read this, part of me couldn’t wait; now I have to wait for the next book, but will be happy to re-read “Slade House” and any of its relatives again in the meantime.