No review of Cloud Atlas could do it justice. I should just type the title in bold, followed by four stars. Hell, I’d like to change my rating system to give it five. Yes, it’s that good, a work of literary genius that transcends genre. Unfortunately, the cover sure as hell doesn’t do the book any favors. I get the impression that the artist didn’t know what to do, so he just Googled a bunch of cloud imagery and Photoshopped them together. The back flap states, Mitchell is, clearly, a genius, and while I typically hate this kind of more-often-than-not false praise, I can’t help but echo the sentiment. Few writers have intimidated me like this guy has. Cloud Atlas is on a whole other level, brilliantly written and conceived, deeply textured, and so meaningful you could base an entire religion around it. And yet, I am neither bitter…