![]() Read Full Review >Ĭlarke gives the initially unnamed narrator of this story a remarkable voice, of washed simplicity, blending compassion, obsessive observation and childlike directness. Piranesi is a story about transformation and the work of a thinker, transformed: Susanna Clarke has fashioned her own myth anew and enlarged the world again. If Strange & Norrell was a long inquiry into the substance of Englishness, from deep national myth to petty table manners, Piranesi shows the inquirer turning away from social themes and toward more slippery, psychological questions, in order to produce a novel a fraction of the length but with quadruple the seriousness of its predecessor. This investigation into consciousness through water and stone is pure Freud. the silence of illness and seclusion becomes the blank areas of memory that our conscious mind can repress. From within the universe she constructed decades ago in her first writings, Clarke has taken the toughest problem of her own creation-what to do with all the otherworldly architecture she’s made possible-and turned it into an opportunity to explore the effects of trauma and dissociation on memory and identity. a dreamlike follow-up to her busy, involved debut. However, it’s the non-magical moments that linger the longest in Piranesi. Admirers of Jonathan Strange will surely enjoy Clarke’s continued penchant for vivid world building where something supernatural could appear around any corner. The story takes all manner of bizarre twists and thrilling turns from there - neo-pagan academics, a Flood, and gunfire all make an appearance - but I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun. Much of the pleasure of reading Piranesi derives from Piranesi himself, the charming if rather naive waif who narrates the novel via journal entries under an invented event-based calendar. News of a new book finally broke last September and the hype rocketed to literary heights.Could Piranesi match it? I’m delighted to say it has, with Clarke’s singular wit and imagination still intact in a far more compressed yet still captivating tale you’ll want to delve into again right after you read its sublime last sentence. Fans have eagerly waited 16 years for Clarke’s follow-up. How do we do the same? How do we bear the pain of our limits, and what must we give up to survive? Read Full Review > ![]() However ill-gotten, Piranesi has achieved an equilibrium, a delicate peace with the contradictions of pain and love. Humans seek connection and knowledge - but how do we define those quests? How do we approach those paths? Both worlds in this enthralling, transcendent novel come with magic and reason, beauty and warmth, danger and destruction. The mystery of Piranesi unwinds at a tantalizing yet lightening-like pace - it's hard not to rush ahead, even when each sentence, each revelation makes you want to linger. As if Marie Curie meets Cleopatra on Mary Anning's beach. This crossing of realms - the magical and scientific the mystical and profane - in both Jonathan Strange and Piranesi is an alluring combination. The concept is gone from his mind of what he longs for the most. In these brief but gut-wrenchingly tender interactions we are felled by the loneliness Piranesi can't fully grasp. Clarke's writing is clear, sharp - she can cleave your heart in a few short words. the sweetness, the innocence of Piranesi's love for this world is devastating to read. ![]() To abide in these pages is to find oneself happily detained in awe. Clarke conceived of this story long before the coronavirus pandemic, but tragedy has made Piranesi resonate with a planet in quarantine. This is the abiding magic of Clarke’s novel: We’re as likely to pity Piranesi for his cheerful acceptance of imprisonment as we are to envy him for his ready appreciation of the world as he finds it. Perhaps Clarke’s cleverest move in this infinitely clever novel is the way she critiques our obliterating efforts to extract deeper meaning and greater value from everything in our world. Until you read the book yourself, keep your wand drawn to ward off the summaries of enthusiastic fans and clumsy reviewers. Clarke’s power certainly extends beyond mere suspense, but her story relies on the steady accretion of apprehension that finally gives way to a base-shifting revelation. an unusually fragile mystery-as delicate as the slender fingers and wispy petals on the marble statues that fill the House. The hypnotic quality of Piranesi stems largely from how majestically Clarke conjures up this surreal House. Reading her lithe new book, Piranesi, feels like finding a copy of Steven Millhauser’s Martin Dressler in the back of C.S. We believers have waited a long time for a second novel from Clarke, and so it’s especially exciting to see that none of her enchantment has worn off-it’s evolved.
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