RaveThe Seattle TimesThere are times when you don't really believe this is a novel, and the metaphor of an atlas for clouds (ever shifting, rather fluffy at times) really suits. Mitchell corrals and weaves six different narrative strands much like a musical composition and you don't truly understand where the author is taking you until the final sentence of the final strand … The tone of each thread runs with an intense clockwork pacing designed to assist the reader, who is compelled to read onward muttering, ‘What the? What the? Hey!?!!!’ … Like a Möbius strip, you find the ends never really complete, but draw back on themselves without having to really end.