PIRANESI (2020)
By Susanna Clarke
Bloomsbury Publishing, 272 pages.
★★★★★
Piranesi may not be the most literary novel I’ve read this year, but it’s certainly the most fascinating. Explaining why without giving an aerial tour of the entire book is difficult; Piranesi is that unique.
Most of the book is set in an alternate universe, but of what sort? Another dimension? A different planet? Mind castles? An underworld? A post-apocalyptic city? A wormhole? It consists of clouds, birds, fish, monumental buildings, and water. Clarke describes it as, “where architecture and oceans were muddled together.” The ocean sustains and endangers; that is, it provides food and makeshift clothing and tools, but walls cannot contain it. Piranesi is both the narrator and chronicler of a world he calls “The House,” that is apparently occupied by just two people: Piranesi and an older man he calls “The Other.” One of his tasks is to keep track of the ocean tides, lest he or The Other be swept away by periodic surges that drown the halls.
When I use the term “halls,” think something akin to where Pompeii and Versailles meet M. C. Escher and ancient Crete’s minotaur maze. Or, at least, that’s what it conjured for me. In other words, it’s vast, enigmatic, and parts of it are in ruin. Some might know that Piranesi is also the surname of an 18th-century Italian archaeologist and artist best known for his 16 “imaginary prisons,” engravings that were Escher before Escher.
Our Piranesi spends 11 years investigating The House one hall at a time and recording observations in journals. His explorations tell him that great civilizations once thrived–their statues occupy marble niches and artifacts strew the halls–but insofar as he can tell, it was a long time ago, as he finds the remains of just 13 other individuals. They are the ones whose bones Piranesi has collected and whom he has given names such as Biscuit-Box Man, Fish Leather Man, Concealed Person, and Folded-Up Child.
Piranesi’s relationship with The Other is essentially that of servant to master. He is allowed to speak with the brusque Other only briefly and at specified times. Piranesi, though, is content. Plus, he is aiding The Other in the search for a “Great and Secret Knowledge.” Piranesi is essentially Robinson Crusoe, if the latter had little desire for the company of others. Piranesi needs The Other for occasional supplies and food items, but where he gets things that don’t seem to be in any of the halls mildly perplexes Piranesi.
One day, Piranesi briefly spies another person he calls “16.” (Also the number of the other Piranesi’s prisons.) He does not approach him because The Other has warned that “16” is dangerous and will make him insane. Piranesi does, however, expand his exploration of The House, discovers other journals, and finds messages that baffle and intrigue. At this point, things take an ominous turn. Before the book concludes, the novel veers into subjects such as rituals, magical incantations, transgressive behavior, pseudo-science, and the biographies and fates of the 13 whose bones Piranesi lovingly tends. There are other issues and mysteries as well, but to enumerate them would reveal too much.
Piranesi is, to evoke Monty Python, a “now for something completely different” novel. Clarke’s is one of the more creative mash-ups I’ve encountered in some time. Her novel is evocative of Neal Gaiman’s Neverwhere as filtered through Greek mythology, Plato, C. S. Lewis, Sigmund Freud, and Carl Jung. It dislocates readers and sends them down the same twisty paths as its central character. After all, we are reminded, Piranesi is “a name associated with labyrinths.” In this case, we also relate it to child-like innocence. Add John Milton to the list of inspirations. In case you can’t recall why that name is famous, he wrote Paradise Lost.
Rob Weir
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