Piranesi

 

“The House is valuable because it is the House. It is enough in and of Itself. It is not the means to an end.”
― Susanna Clarke, Piranesi

Second books are hard. Especially if the first was a massive success. They must live up to a high standard, even more so than as they ought to – all books ought to meet high standards, to my mind – because, let’s face facts, they have big shoes to fill. Piranesi was one such.

I confess that I did not purchase this sophomore effort when it was first published. I read its blurb and found it less inspiring than Susanna Clarke’s first effort, the celebrated Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. How could this slim volume compare with a work ten years in the writing, I wondered.

Long story short, having recently consumed a number of videos in which reviewers praised it, some even declaring Piranesi better than Ms Clarke’s much lauded “masterpiece,” I finally bit the bullet and read it.

What did I think? I think it’s good; but I do not believe it anywhere near as good as Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. My opinion. But, to be fair, they are very different experiences. JS&MN is epic in scope (some might find it daunting, in length, in style, and in pace); it’s Georgian, and Dickensian. Piranesi, on the other hand, is contemporary. JS&MN is replete with myth, and indeed history; Piranesi lacks this. That said, it is evocative of other works: Giovanni Battista Piranesi’s prints, “Imaginary Prisons”; Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave”; with allusions to C.S. Lewis’ Narnia. This is not to say that it lacks style. It positively radiates this. But given its narration style, Piranesi is lacking in that we, the reader, never truly understand how Piranesi’s world came into being.

Giovanni Battista Piranesi’s “Imaginary Prisons”

Piranesi’s world is a labyrinth of rooms, each lined with statues: of animals, and lovers and kings, and monsters of every imagining. It’s hinted that these rooms were possibly dreamed into being. That’s all well and good; but one wonders how flocks of birds and schools of fish find their way into a universe dreamt into existence by humans, if indeed we did do just that. There are tides, and seasons, and night and day; but no inhabitants other than our limited cast of players. Though interesting, I did not find myself convinced of its existence, regardless that it does indeed exist.

What I did find intriguing was Piranesi, himself, his having been altered by his world. Why is he called Piranesi? That is explained – a little; but not completely; suffice it to say that he is christened that by the only other soul he knows. One must work a little, reading outside this work for greater illumination. Speaking of that other person, I was also intrigued by the cast of players within this morality play. Far too many spoilers would be risked by discussing them in any detail here. Suffice it to say, I was left questioning most of their motivations. Why do they do what they do? To what end? Enough on that.

I was, however, most pleasantly surprised by the novel’s denouement, if not its conclusion, for reasons left unsaid – sit would be criminal to spoil the experience. It is most profound.

Piranesi is worth a read. More so, I believe, if you haven’t read JS&MN. Even if you have. As already noted, they are very different experiences. But each is as surreal as the other. I, personally, found Ms Clarke’s first effort a far more immersive and satisfying one. Perhaps this novel is as deep, and tightened to only its essential elements, but I still prefer her weightier tome. That said, I’m still pleased to have finally read Susanna’s sophomore effort.

 

“Perhaps even people you like and admire immensely can make you see the World in ways you would rather not.”
― Susanna Clarke, Piranesi