Review of number9dream by David Mitchell

David Mitchell is living proof that style and technique matter. You've read the generic stories out there—the mysteries, the adventures, the historical novels, the dystopias, etc. But throw a Mitchell novel into that mix and it sticks out like a lighthouse. Boiled to their bare bones, his stories aren't any different than those discount brands. It's Mitchell's way with words that distinguish his books. number9dream is his 2001 (stylish) take on bildungsroman.

If you have a bildungsroman, then you need a young person to grow, and in the case of number9dream that person is nineteen-year old Eiji Miyake. Alone in Tokyo on a mission, he seeks his long estranged father. But sub-consciously, of course, he is seeking direction, purpose in life. Through a swirl of bizarre blue-collar jobs, cafe run-ins, immutable strangers, as well as a healthy dose of youthful imagination, Eiji does eventually find what he's looking for. The journey, as they say however, is what matters.

See? My bland plot intro did nothing to entice your senses, to get you motivated, to have you reaching for your wallet to splash the cash for this book. Mitchell tosses blandness over his shoulder and machetes his own path through the jungle of fiction getting Eiji from A to B. Deploying the English language like only a tiny percentage of writers on the market can, the novel is an engaging show of prose. Not just show, however, it deftly presents mindsets and scenes, characters and emotions, dialogue and transitions. It engages readers for both story and technique.

Mode is likewise dynamic. From wild bouts of dreaming to almost-as-wild real-life encounters, the types of fiction scattered throughout number9dream are a mix I've not encountered before. It features magic realism, urban fantasy, slipstream, dreams, and reality. Good luck measuring proportions.

Going a bit deeper into that, number9dream possesses fantastical bookends. Without spoiling anything, the opening is juvenile: a teen dreaming of being the hero in comic-book fashion—as any young man imagines. The ending is dreamlike, more radical but more nuanced. And being magic realist in feel lends the book stronger ties to reality—a good tone to a bildungsroman. The final sentence I find unfitting of what came before, but it doesn't destroy the mood.

number9dream has a couple issues. One would certainly be the over-the-top action scenes, particularly those featuring yakuza. While I praise Mitchell for bringing light to darkened genre hallways in terms of prose, these scenes still feel more stereotypical than realist, and in turn dilute the realism of Eiji's quest and personal development. Second are a couple—just a couple—of the cliché characters accompanying these scenes and others. To be clear, Mitchell does an amazing job painting many of the secondary characters; a few broad strokes and a living human steps from the canvas. But not every one. The yakuza goons are the same yakuza goons world-wide—a disappointment, that.

Despite this, number9dream is a fine sophomore effort from Mitchell. It has flashy prose with substance and fiery imagination that leaves tracers in the mind. The book is hard to categorize, but I would argue that is one of its virtues. Mitchell does occasionally oscillate, however, between emotional realism and absurdism, which can make suspension of disbelief a challenge at times. For readers familiar with number9Dream looking for something similar, try Jon Courtenay Grimwood's brilliant End of the World Blues. Though not a bildungsroman, it has equal parts fantastical and realist, with bits of Japanese street action tossed in to spice the stew, it's a superb effort from a lesser known writer worth a read.