I suspect I would have liked this more if I liked Calvino more Mitchell can write  and when he's not overreaching he manages fine things Unfortunately  the best ventriloquism is in the outer two sections (nineteenth-century South Seas journal  letters from a down-and-out interbellum composer)  followed by a journey into less interesting territory: a fake thriller  a contemporary picaresque  a predictable dystopian story  and a section in postapocalyptic argot that owes something to Hoban's Riddley Walker  though it’s easier to read and less wowing