Book Review: Piranesi, by Susanna Clarke (2020)

 

It’s been a very long wait for this book, the second novel from the author of the brilliant Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell – sixteen years, to be precise.

Piranesi is not like Susanna Clarke’s previous novel. In fact, it’s not like anything I’ve ever read before. To go into detail about the plot is probably not advisable… it would be a bit like stepping into a labyrinth, which just so happens to be the setting of this story – another world which consists of a never-ending series of halls, each one full of rows and rows of statues, with lower halls that are flooded by the sea, and upper halls where clouds and rains form. Yes, there is some serious imagination at play here! Within this endless labyrinth of halls lives ‘Piranesi’, who believes this is not really his name, but it is what ‘the Other’ – the only other living person in the world – likes to call him. Piranesi is aware of the past existence of fifteen other people, who he refers to as ‘his dead’. He sees ‘the Other’ for brief meetings twice a week, believing that the two of them are collaborating on a quest for some sort of higher knowledge. He is very subservient in this relationship, and slow and hesitant to realise and act on his disparaging attitudes and beliefs from those decreed by ‘the Other’. He otherwise lives alone with all the statues, some birds, and the skeletons of ‘his dead’, who he cares for.

As the story develops, Piranesi becomes aware that there are more people in the world, or that perhaps even another world exists, and that there is more to his past and his relationship with ‘the Other’ than he remembers. However, Piranesi is a very innocent and trusting character, and it is almost impossible for him to contemplate and believe in an idea of freedom that he didn’t realise existed.

The story is fascinating and engaging and can be read much faster than the weighty Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. For me, it is at heart a study of loneliness and of solitude, and a consideration of the values one person might find if they truly had to occupy a world alone. You don’t need to believe in the existence of parallel worlds, of course, to enjoy this book. However, there are certain aspects of the story that require a stretch of the imagination. For example, Piranesi dismisses words he hears, such as ‘police station’, as nonsense, yet he does of course have a language and use lots of other words he logically should also not comprehend. The idea that he deduces the meaning of words such as ‘garden’ from the scenes depicted by the statues was not quite adequate enough for me. Perhaps it suffices to assume that all his vocabulary remains in his residual language from his previous, forgotten existence. Another qualm with this story is that I found the plot fairly predictable. This seems ridiculous given the outlandish setting, but once the scene was established and the various new characters introduced, what was likely to unfold was not so hard to foretell. I can imagine that in writing this book the balance between revealing sufficient information to the reader, while not giving too much away, must have been a real challenge. Finally, the ending left me a little underwhelmed – rather abrupt and ambiguous (or maybe I just didn’t get it).

None of this is intended to dissuade you from reading Piranesi, which is a thoroughly enjoyable, thought-provoking and entertaining read. The book adds to my long-held respect for the author, and I hope it won’t be such a long wait for the third novel.

 

Favourite Character: This is a fairly easy one. Whilst the character ‘16’ is very worthy, Piranesi is the star of the show. He is resourceful, thoughtful and caring within his naivety, knowledgeable and clever within his ignorance, and completely full of good virtues.