David Mitchell, author of novels including Cloud Atlas and The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, twice shortlisted for the Booker prize and all-round fiction star, joined the Guardian's Reading group to answer your questions about his work, life, favourite books and the novels yet to be written. You can see all his answers below the line here, but here are 10 things we learned about him.
1. He doesn't think the novel is dying
No disrespect to Tim Parks who I know is a very clever man, but I think the death of the novel/of architecture/of painting/of fashion/of the serious film/of theatre/of any art form has been confidently pronounced too often over too many decades for me to take such pronouncements too seriously.
Maybe I'm naive, but I think the first question literary agents and publishers are interested in is "Does this thing work?" I think taxing but rewarding books continue to be published and continue to find readerships.
2. His narrative style is all about "compression"
Angus Miranda asked: I'd like to ask why David Mitchell used a narrative style that is filled with phrases that intervene the characters' dialogues (e.g. "She's barely spoken," the maid holds the lamp, "for hours and hours...") His reply:
3. He makes shortlists of possible names for his characters
Yes, there's a lot in a name, and a character isn't properly alive until he or she has been properly christened, which can take a long time – God bless the Search and Replace function. You instinctively know the nuances and baggages of names from your own generation and culture, but if you stray further afield, you need expert help. I usually give my translator from the country I'm writing my requirements in terms of age and social class, and ask for a shortlist of five. I then choose one that has, as you say, an apt rhythm and sound, and that doesn't look too much like anyone else's name in the book. Better to avoid the Sauron/Saruman clash problem if possible.
4. He doesn't take himself too seriously
Writers are partly nuts. Ask any of the poor so-and-sos who have to live with us.
5. The country in his imagination right now is Iceland
Odd, isn't it, how some countries exercise an imaginative pull, while others simply don't? Japan did, and still does: familiarity hasn't weakened it. I could spend hundreds of words on this answer, but as time's short I'll just say that right now it's Iceland. My new novel (sorry if this sounds like a plug, it's not supposed to be) The Bone Clocks spends about 20 pages in Iceland, and the third novel on my "To Be Written" queue will probably spend half its time there.
6. He's got a great sense of humour
As this comment exchange proves:
Dear David,
I can't get my head around the fact that you're unusually good-looking for a male novelist. Why do you think that is?
Regards
Guardian contributor Photoshop.
7. He was really happy with the Cloud Atlas film adaptation
Yes, I was happy with the Cloud Atlas film, and feel an unearned pride about it. Some medium-sized changes had to be made, but I understood the logic behind the changes. I had very little artistic input, as all three directors are good writers, they didn't need my help, and they knew and know much more about scriptwriting than I do. I have a "stick to what you're best at" attitude.
The best thing about the film for me was the visa it gave me into the world of film-making. You find some fascinating tribes there.
8. He strongly recommends The Book of Strange New Things (to come in November)
I think it might be a bit unfair on a single work of fiction to put it on the thrown of the singularly superlative, but I did read Michel Faber's new one the other week, The Book of Strange New Things, and thought it was extraordinary. As for reading, I wish I had a magic door to a library where I could go in, read for days and days, and come back in the same minute I left. I'm still looking for the door.
And Chekhov:
Read Chekhov's short stories, if you haven't. That's the literary heaven of which I'm only a low-wattage version. And how I wish that last line was only false modesty.
9. Finishing The Sea of Fertility by Yukio Mishima proved... intense
Finishing the tetralogy still ranks as one of the most intense reading experiences of my life. I wandered down Queensway in Bayswater afterwards, feeling drunk, I still remember that hour.
10. He does get mistaken for the other David Mitchell. And he takes it tongue-in-cheek
Again, what we said about the sense of humour. Chapeau.
Guardian contributor oh the fun the other David Mitchell and I could have if we just swapped online identities for a few hours...
and the havoc.
And further proof:
Guardian contributor You've got me there, Steff -
Green Clarinet? Is this me or the other DM?
Was I drunk? Or is a secret codeword that has been redacted from my memory by a shadowy circle of psychosoterics?
Hi Angus.
Compression. I think my logic was that the "say" verb is already there in the speech marks, so I didn't need a communication verb. This is ignoring the (very) well-established convention that we need a verb like "say" as well, and doing so gives the prose a strangeness that, I guess, takes a bit of getting used to. Hopefully it won't put off too many readers.