68 Books & arts The EconomistJuly 25th 2020
1U
singdiversevoicesand styles,and
telling several stories together, David
Mitchell’s finest novels conjure up multi-
ple worlds, both real and fantastical. Each
of their chapters transports readers to a dif-
ferent time or place and revolves around a
new theme or idea. These sections are dis-
crete enough to resemble stand-alone sto-
ries, but recurring motifs or reappearing
characters provide unity. For all the singu-
lar events and far-reaching chaos they en-
compass, these are books about intercon-
nected lives and shared fates.
His kaleidoscopic and polyphonic nov-
els showcase their author’s capacious
imagination. The globe-spanning minia-
ture dramas that make up his debut,
“Ghostwritten” (published in 1999), chart
the wayward progress of, among others, a
pair of jazz aficionados, a nuclear phys-
icist, a member of a doomsday cult and a
disembodied, transmigrating soul. Bigger
and bolder, “The Bone Clocks” (2014) fol-
lows a character from 1984 to a post-apoca-
lyptic future, by way of a cosmic conflict
between immortal beings. Mr Mitchell’s
most ambitious work, “Cloud Atlas”
(2004), is also his best. Intricately struc-
tured and deftly plotted, its contrasting in-
gredients—thriller, history, farce, dysto-
pia, science fiction—make a potent blend.
His ninth novel is, for the most part, a
more conventional affair. “Utopia Avenue”
tells the story of a fictitious British rock
band of that name which experiences
fame, triumph and tragedy in the late
1960s. The book lacks the formal daring
and dizzying inventiveness of its predeces-
sors. This time, though, Mr Mitchell places
a stronger emphasis on characterisation.
By rotating the narrative between the play-
ers’ perspectives, he ensures that each
emerges as a fleshed-out human being as
well as a member of the collective.
The group forms in Soho (“The saucy
twinkle in Mother London’s eye”) in 1967. It
consists of Dean Moss, a blues bassist, folk
singer and keyboardist Elf Holloway, virtu-
oso guitarist Jasper de Zoet and Peter
“Griff” Griffin, a jazz drummer. They har-
ness their influences and pool their talents
to create a winningly eclectic sound. Aided
by their enterprising manager, Levon
Frankland, they secure a record deal, play
gigs, appear on television and gradually
make a name for themselves in “the au-
tumn of the Summer of Love”.Rock’n’roll fictionThe band played on
Utopia Avenue. By David Mitchell. Random
House; 592 pages; $30. Sceptre; £20A
t the beginningof “Catch-22” Cap-
tain Yossarian vows “to live forever or
die in the attempt”. Though the odds are
stacked against him, he tirelessly resists
anyone and everything that wants to kill
him. This broad category includes the Ger-
man army, his own commanders with their
dangerous missions and even the cells in
his body, because “every one was a poten-
tial traitor and foe”.
Set mainly in an American air-force
base towards the end of the second world
war, Joseph Heller’s story seemed unlike
other war novels when it was published in- Rather than hailing martial bravery, it
lambasted the era’s violence and paranoia,
as well as bungling bureaucrats and capri-
cious rules of a kind that are freshly recog-
nisable today. Early reviewers called the
book “repetitive and monotonous”, but
younger readers appreciated Heller’s ex-
travagantly constructed jokes, in which the
punchline may come hundreds of pages
after the set-up. Above all they identified
with the authority-questioning Yossarian,
the closest thing “Catch-22” has to a hero.
Later adapted for film and television,
the novel follows the captain and around
70 other characters in a bafflingly non-lin-
ear plot. Some of them are megalomaniacs,
others amoral profiteers; the enlisted men
are variously jaded, idealistic and suicidal.
Some die, come back, and die all over again.
Events slide into each other, loosening the
reader’s grasp on time, much as the languor
of lockdown can seem to. Incidents are re-
visited from alternative points of view, first
played for laughs and later depicted as trag-
edies. (Heller made an enormous hand-
written plan for the book to keep track of
the timeline.)
The phrase “Catch-22” has since entered
the language, making the novel vaguely fa-
miliar even to those who have never read it.
In the story, air-force regulation “Catch-22”
says that insane servicemen cannot be ex-
cused combat duty, because trying to get
out of it implies concern for their safety—
meaning they must be sane after all. But
the phrase quickly became shorthand for
any predicament from which escape is im-
possible because of an inherent contradic-
tion. Everyone encounters these: an entry-
level job advert that stipulates “experience
required”; being unable to find a lost pair of
glasses because you cannot see. Some of
the dilemmas of the pandemic—public-
health measures that are meant to save
lives, but might end up blighting them—
have a Catch-22 feel.
“Yossarian lives”, a slogan that was plas-
tered on subway carriages in New York in
the 1960s, may have been a bit of a spoiler,
but it captures the consolation that the
novel ultimately offers. Today the captain
and his friends are offbeat guides to a risky,
maddening and rule-bound life. And Hell-
er’s inimitable comic voice is a reminder
that humour and humanity might just see
you through. 7Joseph Heller’s depiction of the
caprices of bureaucracy still resonatesYossarian livesThere’s always
a catch
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