I’ve enjoyed several books by David Mitchell and was looking forward to reading The Bone Clocks. As I started it was outstanding in the same way Black Swan Green and The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet – fantastic writing and well formed characters. But then the cracks began to appear. Not cracks in his writing – cracks in the time/space/universe. Strange things breaking in to the fairly normal stories of the many many characters.
The first third of the book was a joy to read. The second third was okay. The final third was a job. I had to force myself to finish the book (because I had so much invested by this time).
The weirdness of the final third was enhanced by the fact that I had a cold and my day was interspersed with naps and cold medication, making the whole experience further surreal.
I think I’ll wait for another ‘normal’ novel from Mitchell before I try reading any more of his books. This one was just too much.