by David Mitchell (1999).
I love Mitchell's writing, and I loved this book. There is so much complexity, so many references and hints and themes and recurring images, how could I not love that. It suffers a bit from being his first novel--it diesn't really compare to Cloud Atlas, but how could it?--though I love seeing a writer start at A and end up at B with some things intact and some things so good it seems unthinkable. Which is very much what Mitchell's novels have been like. But I have to say, so many things went poorly for so many characters, it really did a number on me. I found myself longing for the sweet, fairytale-esque ending of number9dream.
Also, The Bat Segundo Show. I love it.