Piranesi
by Susanna Clarke
Piranesi’s house is no ordinary building: its rooms are infinite, its corridors endless, its walls are lined with thousands upon thousands of statues, each one different from all the others. Within the labyrinth of halls an ocean is imprisoned; waves thunder up staircases, rooms are flooded in an instant. But Piranesi is not afraid; he understands the tides as he understands the pattern of the labyrinth itself. He lives to explore the house.
There is one other person in the house—a man called The Other, who visits Piranesi twice a week and asks for help with research into A Great and Secret Knowledge. But as Piranesi explores, evidence emerges of another person, and a terrible truth begins to unravel, revealing a world beyond the one Piranesi has always known.
Piranesi is the long awaited second novel from the author of the masterful Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, Susanna Clarke. With sixteen years between the publication of her two novels, there was a sense of expectation and anticipation surrounding Piranesi for many readers. As one who only read JS&MrN earlier this year, I consider myself lucky to have not had to wait to long to return to the imagination and fantastic writing of Clarke.
From the first page, Piranesi exudes a strange atmosphere and approach to storytelling. Written in the form of journal entries dated within “The Year the Albatross Came to the South-Western Halls,” Piranesi tells us his own story of his life in the House—a place of floods and sweeping, labyrinthine halls lined with statues where he lives almost completely alone. His days are consumed with his efforts to care for himself; he fetches seaweed and catches fish, living off what the House provides for him as he tracks floods and studies statues. There was a simplicity to Piranesi’s existence that extended to his narrative voice and manifested as a sort of naiveté and matter-of-fact tone. It was sometimes odd, sometimes charming, sometimes sad, but always compelling.
Related: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Review
The atmosphere of Piranesi was one of distant, cool enchantment. Otherworldly, but not in any of the expected, familiar ways. There was a startling emptiness and starkness to the world that clashed with the presence of elements reminiscent of classical mythology and created an environment I was eager to understand. There was something of a simplicity to the world and atmosphere itself, a simplicity that kept reasserting itself despite my best efforts to understand it in some bigger, more complex way. It was odd, but far from off putting. Instead, Piranesi’s House and its atmosphere were wonderfully unique and unexpected, confusing and intriguing.
Piranesi was a difficult novel to find my footing in—in the best way possible. With the tale told through the lens of Piranesi’s simple acceptance of absolutely everything, it was difficult to discern what had been and what might be in terms of the existence of the House and its peculiarities, and the plot. I’d think I had an idea of what could be going on, then some small detail would be mentioned casually and upend my understanding of the type of story unfolding almost completely. It was fantastic. Assuming anything about this world, this novel, or Piranesi himself proved impossible. As the story moved along and threads of intrigue and mystery made themselves clearer, I still felt like I was grasping in the dark for any possible answers because what could actually be going on? The mystery that was unfolding and the way it was revealed to readers through Piranesi’s dawning realizations was so engrossing. The answers to my questions were fantastically unexpected, with wonderfully odd themes and ideas explored that I couldn’t have seen coming. Piranesi is a story you can’t look away from.
Having read Piranesi solely on the basis of being a fan of Clarke’s, I went into it blind, without reading the synopsis for many months beforehand. My preconceived notions of the novel were largely based on the cover—I expected a tale reminiscent of mythology, something vaguely (or perhaps directly) influenced and inspired by Ancient Greek culture, in style and atmosphere if not in plot. Instead, I was delighted by a compellingly told tale that is both fantastical and strange. Piranesi is an odd little book. It’s uniquely imaginative and brilliantly told. I ate every bit of it up and recommend you do, too.