It's so interesting coming to this novel having read and admired – but not entirely loving - much of David Mitchell's fiction. His novels encompass a wide range of subject matter and diverse group of characters. Yet there's something so distinct about his writing style which I thought was exemplified in his most recent (uncharacteristically short) novel “Slade House”. Mitchell often builds realistic stories about the lives of individual characters into a larger fantastical narrative that bends time and dips into the ethereal. This new novel celebrates the psychedelic music scene of the late 60s by recounting the formation, rise to fame and short-lived career of Utopia Avenue, a fictional band that combines different folk, jazz and rock musicians to make a unique sound. This environment is fertile ground for a David Mitchell tale as it captures a certain sociopolitical shift by delving into the lives of each band member and explores how their music reflects this era of protest and evolving consciousness. Out of their individual stories of drug use and psychological breakdown emerges a larger tale set on another plane of reality that includes incorporeal battles and spirit possession. This also provides a direct link to Mitchell's past fiction; given that one of the band members is named Jasper de Zoet it's not hard to guess which source a branch of this story grew from. It's certainly not necessary to have read Mitchell's previous books to appreciate this novel but there are specific references which will excite his fans.

I enjoyed this very engaging and readable novel, but a personal issue for me is that I'm not that familiar with this particular period of history and don't have a special interest in this genre of music. Those who feel the nostalgic pull of this era will revel in the story because an extremely pleasurable aspect of this tale is all the cameo appearances from famous personalities of the time. If you've ever fantasised about bumping into David Bowie in random locations, having a heart-to-heart with Brian Jones, moving in Francis Bacon's social circle, drinking “special” cocktails with Janis Joplin or tripping with Jerry Garcia you'll be thrilled by this journey. Some of the encounters are pure coincidence but most naturally arise from the band's growing fame so there are brushing encounters or distant glimpses of Little Richard, Nina Simone, Washboard Sam, Marc Bolan, Allen Ginsberg, Syd Barrett, Jimi Hendrix, John Lenon, Leonard Cohen and Frank Zappa. It's a lot of fun playing spot the celebrity amidst the band's wild tale.

The story moves at a good pace but I feel like Mitchell has written an account of a band from this time period exactly as you'd imagine it to play out. The group's rise to celebrity is both driven and hampered by the members' personal setbacks, sexual liaisons, political battles, warring egos and interpersonal conflicts. So, although I greatly enjoyed the novel, it didn't feel that surprising how their story plays out. There are plenty of delectable moments riding this “backwards flying memory train” but I didn't find much that's especially revelatory in the book. Even when it reaches a point where what's psychologically real melds so teasingly against the supernatural it felt expected rather than astonishing. Mitchell has such an interesting perspective about time so when it reaches the end where band members consider the legacy they've produced it does feel poignant. But I feel like the author has bigger statements to make with his unique artistic point of view.

Part of me wonders if his greatest book is one that no one living today will ever get a chance to read. In 2016 Mitchell wrote a novella titled “From Me Flows What You Call Time” for the Future Library project. This won't be printed until the year 2114 using trees which have just been planted. As Mitchell said of this project, hoping there will still be trees or even readers a century from now is “a vote of confidence in the future.” It's the perfect quirky experiment for this writer so concerned with the subjectivity and elasticity of time to be involved in. Yet it's frustrating for us readers who hope to be more affected by the power of his writing to not get the chance to read it.

I was hesitant about reading “Slade House” when it came out a few months ago because I didn't finish his previous novel “The Bone Clocks.” Mitchell's recurring technique is to write really involving smaller realistic stories within larger, ambitious and fantastical narratives that say something meaningful about time and humanity. This was most successfully realized in his tremendous novel “Cloud Atlas.” The problem is that I come to feel really involved with some of the smaller enclosed stories and grow impatient with the larger all-encompassing story. This is the reason I put aside “The Bone Clocks” because I didn't care enough about the supernatural elements that tied disparate stories set in different time periods together. He uses the same structure in “Slade House” building quieter short tales of an insecure boy, a philandering detective inspector, a teenage girl self conscious about her weight, a lesbian journalist and a black Canadian psychiatrist into a chilling narrative of a pair of twins' paranormal existence. One by one these people are lured to a grand old house and then they are never seen again. The difference is that the length of “Slade House” better suits this technique. “Slade House” is only 240 pages compared to “The Bone Clocks” which totals 640 pages. This makes “Slade House” a much more fast-paced and thrilling read.

David Mitchell is such a skilled writer in the way he quickly and convincingly creates narrators that are immediately identifiable. Switching between all the different personalities I listed above over a 36 year time period could feel jarring to a reader, but Mitchell uses choice details and compelling voices which grab your attention. Even with an unlikeable character like Inspector Gordon Edmonds who makes sexist and racist remarks, he's a dynamic and vivid personality who is engaging to read about. Mitchell confidently brings in points of reference from the high-brow like famed musician Yehudi Menuhin to the ever-loveable Miss Piggy. At times Michell scrambles too much to invoke an atmosphere for the time period by flipping through news events or popular culture from the time period so it can begin to read like a wikipedia page for the year in question. But, on the whole, their stories feel layered and deeply thought out.

In the section 'Oink, Oink' teenage Sally Timms wears a Miss Piggy mask at a party in Slade House

Mitchell gives a great sense for the depth of personality and the way people present version of themselves: “People are masks, with masks under those masks, and masks under those, and down you go.” It's interesting to see how over the course of the novel the sinister twins Norah and Jonah's characters gradually develop. The various people these mystic beings inhabit break apart to reveal their foibles and tensions between the pair. So, by the end, I felt as involved with their stories as I did with the tales of the individuals they lure into the supernatural house.

“Slade House” is essentially a group of short stories held in the framework of a fantasy novel. I admire Mitchell's ambition and the scope of his imagination to meaningfully tease larger questions out of tales that straddle great swaths of time. But such scale isn't always needed. In Mitchell's novel “Black Swan Green” he confines his narrative to a year in the life of a thirteen year old boy to great effect. “Slade House” is a thoroughly entertaining read and a refreshing new spin on a haunted house story, but I hope Mitchell doesn't always feel the need to contain micro stories within grandiose macro narratives. Sometimes a whole world of meaning can be felt the smallest of spaces.