BOOK REVIEW: A Writer's Opinion

 Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

Piranesi is the second novel I have read by Susanna Clarke, which means I have read most of her published novels! Following the spectacular success of her magnificent epic Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, which was made into what I thought was an excellent TV adaptation (though I know others disagree), Clarke produced a collection of stories (The Ladies of Grace Adieu) based roughly in the same pseudo-regency world she’d created, but then she spent a long time ‘retired’ from the world due to illness. She returned triumphantly with Piranesi, which was nominated for several prizes including the Women’s Prize in 2021.   

The fact that Clarke has been herself isolated from the world for an extended period of time due to ill-health makes it no surprise that her new novel is about isolation, solitude and loneliness. What is a surprise is that it is so different from Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, which was written in a genre-breaking style The Guardian referred to as ‘magical archaism’ – a kind of historical fiction/fairytale hybrid, with notes of Austin, Thackerey and Swift, laid over an atmospheric and compelling fantasy world that seemed simultaneously excitingly innovative and satisfyingly familiar. I was a definite fan of that book, in all its complex, wordy strangeness, but whenever I have picked it up to re-read, I have found myself stalling very quickly.

            Piranesi, by contrast, is short and pared down in its style. I had downloaded it onto my Kindle some months ago but was reluctant to start reading, expecting it to be like Strange & Norrell, but in fact once I started reading it I found it utterly compelling and bewitching. Clarke is the real deal when it comes to literary talent. Whatever you think about fantasy, I defy anyone to claim that Susanna Clarke can’t write absolutely beautifully. Her writing gives me the same deep thrill that works by David Mitchell and Kate Atkinson often do, though she is quite distinctive (and clearly versatile). It is true that the theme of fantastical ‘other worlds’ existing somewhere mysteriously alongside our own mundane world is common to all her work, but the world she creates in Piranesi is spectacularly imaginative and quite different from what I have read before.

            I don’t want to risk giving away the plot of the book as one of the things that makes it so gripping is the mystery of Piranesi’s identity. Piranesi is not the central character’s real name and I have read many reviews which suggest the name comes from an engraver with that name who was famed for his images of complex prison-worlds. I am sure this is true to some extent though I remember listening to Clarke interviewed on a radio programme soon after the novel was published and she was vague about the inspiration for the character’s name. The novel’s Piranesi is the story’s narrator, and we meet him when he lives in a peculiarly entrancing world consisting of a vast labyrinth of interconnected rooms full of staircases, vestibules, and a huge array of statuary – statues of all sizes depicting all manner of creatures both real and mythical, and in particular all manner of humans. These rooms are considered by Piranesi to be the entire world as he believes he has never seen anything beyond them. The lower storeys of this building are underwater and the tides flood some floors regularly; the higher storeys are in the clouds. The only living creatures Piranesi comes across are the sea creatures he fishes and forages, a multitude of birds, and The Other, a mysterious figure whom he considers to be his friend but who he only sees once a week. Piranesi lives in this world entirely alone except for his brief weekly meetings with The Other, living off seaweed and seafood, recording his experiences in a series of journals, conducting surveys of the halls for The Other.

Piranesi is an expert on this weird environment, and he also loves and reveres it. Part of Clarke’s genius lies in the way she can make dry academic elements, such as bibliographies and indexes, seem completely fascinating. The increasing sense that Piranesi is an unreliable narrator, not because he is lying but because he doesn’t know the truth, is both unsettling and intriguing. His feelings of loyalty towards The Other, for example, highlight his naivete. He is an oddly innocent character, and also an oddly admirable one – uncomplaining, honourable, intelligent. He also seems surprisingly content with a life which by normal standards seems desperately tragic.

The world Clarke creates has any number of metaphorical interpretations, and one strength of the story is that Clarke never explains or makes explicit its purpose, source or function. It simply exists, though it is not a simple thing – it seems to interact with the minds which inhabit it, causing Piranesi to lose his memory of how he came to be there and even of his own identity. And this is not a straightforward tale of someone’s possible escape from a cruel prison: Piranesi is deeply ambivalent about leaving the place. The novel examines academic arrogance, human kindness and cruelty, the interface between the real and the fantastical, and the nature of solitude, belonging, ritual and worship.

I was captivated by this book and I know it will stay with me for a long time. It’s beauty, its imagination, its characterisation – all are utterly compelling in themselves, beyond even the excellence of the plot. It is both simple and complex, both uplifting and depressing, and it is always thought-provoking. I would recommend it to anyone who likes both fantasy and literary fiction, and who likes intelligent writing that is also crystal-clear and a thing of beauty in itself.

RATING: Piranesi *****

Key:
*****      highly recommended - a 'must-read'
****         good - well worth taking the time to read
***           ok - will help to pass the time in a boring situation
**            not very good -  just about readable but flawed
*             not recommended - boring, offensive, badly-written or deeply flawed in some other way