Martin Amis’s The Information? Stephen King’s Bag of Bones? Charles Frazier’s advance for the Cold Mountain followup? They ain’t got nothing on Alicia Keys.

Salman Rushdie says that pornography is vital to freedom. His views are to be published in a book called XXX:30 Porn Star, which features photos of porn stars and will come with a complimentary roll of toilet paper.

Kurt Vonnegut believes that his America can be found in libraries.

I snapped it with my camera, but didn’t cite the source
And so my facts are proven. I’m right, you’re wrong. Of course!
I’m the king of all the bloggers. I’m the lord of your remorse
You didn’t dig the dirt, my bitch. Matt Drudge will be my horse.

That Kerry liar’s a Commie, he fudged a minor fact
Politicians should be truthful, or show a little tact
I can post more column-inches. I can have some more impact
Then the Post, the Times, the WSJ, even if I don’t retract

You can call it speculation. You can call me Ego One.
But I’ve got a Canon camera. ‘Cause the terrorists have won.
It’s a time for being fearful. Let the rage flow over the sun.
I’m a humorless libertarian. When the government’s gone, I’m done.

Dueling mini-reviews of Cloud Atlas (courtesy of Kevin Wignall and Ed) pulled from Tingle Alley’s backblog:

KW: David Mitchell is, I’m told, a lovely person, but he represents everything I detest in fiction. I’ve tried to read both Number 9 Dream and Cloud Atlas and found both of them messy, too in love with themselves, and wilfully complacent about the need to tell a story in a compelling way. I’d be happy for Ed to try and put me straight – I remain open-minded – but if the argument is, “sometimes you have to work hard to appreciate a great work of art”, I’m sorry, it doesn’t wash. I’ve said the same about David Peace. The difficulty of a story should be in the content, not in the telling. We are in the business of entertaining people, and any writer who forgets that, no matter what the subject matter, deserves not to be read.

EC: It may be a difference of sensibilities. Even so, “Cloud Atlas” is such a rich, goofy, operatic and downright kickass work that hits so many fantastic tones (satire, pathos, pulp, nostalgia, concern for humanity, futuristic argot, surrealism, light pomo) that I just can’t see why anyone looking for a bracing literary ride wouldn’t love it. It does require a dictionary. It does require looking up arcane references. And, yes, it’s a showboat. But the plots are so entertaining, the prose so invigorating, and the five puzzling plots much fun to pick through (although admittedly the book loses steam near the end) that why would anyone possibly care? Hell, you could argue that Faulkner, Joyce, Gaddis, Barth or Pynchon are “complacent” to some extent. But then, for me, plunging into arcana is what makes literature worthwhile.

I know where I stand on this one, but what say you, EdHeads and David Mitchell fans/detractors? Is Mitchell generally making his readers work too hard or is this just a case of to-ma-to/to-mah-to?