This novel is short and sweet, and we spend the entire book with the title character, the trusting and resourceful inhabitant of a vast and mysterious labyrinth, It didn't take long for me to want to protect him from all harm. I wish there was a little more meat to the plot and a little more magic to the world-building, but I appreciate the straightforward nature of Piranesi's story. I'm not sure what I expected from Clarke's first novel in 16 years. I just hope it doesn't take her 16 years to write the next one!

It's impossible not to compare this book to the author's one other novel, given the space that single novel takes up in the landscape of the contemporary. (It's one of the only books of the 2000s that I think will last.) PIRANESI is a far more focused and quick-burning book but I think it's a worthy successor, as strange and convincing as a nightmare.

“The beauty of the house is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.”

Piranesi’s curiosity is as boundless as the world he inhabits—he spends his days roaming statue-lined hallways and documenting his explorations of a mysterious House that is not a house. Yes, it might have all the makings of a home—hallways and doors and rooms. But within *this* House, seasons change, oceans flood the stairwells, and clouds pass overhead.

While Piranesi is constantly in awe of the house’s beauty and seems at peace, this book evoked a deep feeling of loneliness in me. Other than the birds, there are only two people living in the House—Piranesi and one he calls the Other. Based on his observations, only 15 people have ever lived here. I, the reader, am the 16th person, left to watch silently as Piranesi navigates this strange, lonely world.

We don’t know where he came from, how he ended up here, how long the House goes on, or whether anything exists outside of it. But as the book goes on, our sense of unease grows and the questions multiply. Every week, Piranesi meets with the Other, his only companion. The Other is convinced that the house harbors great secrets that, if discovered, will give them special powers. When Piranesi begins to suspect there is someone else in the house, information comes to light that turns his world upside down.

Overall, Susanna Clarke managed to weave a haunting, thought-provoking tale. I was transported entirely to Piranesi's remote and barren world—I felt like I was walking through this endless House with only Piranesi’s thoughts for company. The imagery is both eerie and beautiful. Clarke has constructed a world out of words that harkens back to “Imaginary Prisons,” a set of 18th-century prints by artist Giovanni Battista Piranesi. According to the Princeton Art Musuem, “The artist infused both conventional topographical scenes of well known buildings and ideal reconstructions with novel compositional devices, exaggerating scale and manipulating perspective through the use of multiple vanishing points … The immensity and ambiguity of these structures reinforces the sense of wonderment that inspired generations of artists, writers, and others to reassess the majesty and grandeur of classical design.” This sums up the experience of reading this book—haunting, wonderful, illusive. If you're looking for an escape, look no further than Piranesi.

Content warnings: Water and drowning, cult activity

Piranesi is a book that takes place in an impossibly labyrinthine mansion where the basement is flooding. It is told from the journal of a narrator who may or may not be named Piranesi.

The plot centers on Piranesi cataloguing all the locations and the ways he spends his days. There are two other characters, the Prophet and the Other, who exist in the world of the House. Having the story be presented in the form of diary entries really worked for the intrigue. The narrator knows about as much as the reader does, and the pace which both reader and narrator learn the truth of this strange locale works really well. There is also an examination of identity and freedom, which come together seamlessly by the very end. To speak more specifically is spoiler-territory.

The prose and presentation read like a dream diary. The decision to capitalize most proper nouns and giving enough detail to get the sense of shape, but keeping the aesthetic overly vague really added to dream-like quality of this work. There is a sense of time being all sorts of broken, and it all works to unsettle but entrance the reader.

Creepy but entrancing, a whimsical novel with all the trappings of dream gothic.

I was going to start this review of Piranesi by Susanna Clarke by stating that I was of two minds on the novel and then noting that this was both appropriate and also strong praise. Appropriate because the book is in many ways of the mind and is as well of two worlds. Strong praise because my two minds were “I loved it” followed by “I liked it.” But then I thought more about it, and I decided my minds were really “I loved it,” “I liked it,” then “I loved it” again. But I could work with that, because really, the book functions on more than two levels. But then I thought about my reading some more, and I decided that my mind now was simply, singularly, “it’s brilliant.” Which is still, granted, strong praise, but no longer neatly appropriate. Worse, it’s also dully predictable. Because when the writer is the author of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, one of the greatest novels of the last 50 years1 (go ahead, fight me on that; I dare you), “brilliant” is presumed. So yes. Ho hum. Piranesi is brilliant. Go figure.

We’re introduced to the strange world of the novel through the eyes of the titular character, a sweet innocent who wanders the labyrinthine halls of the House, a gigantic structure seemingly without end, filled with countless rooms, stairways, hallways, and alcoves, each of these themselves filled with countless statues, many of which Piranesi catalogs for us in the journal entries that make up this gem of a novel. Piranesi has explored the House:

as far as the Nine-Hundred and Sixtieth Hall to the West, the Eight-Hundred and Ninetieth Hall to the North and the Seven-Hundred-and Sixty-Eighth Hall to the South . . . the Upper Halls where Clouds move in slow procession and statues appear suddenly out of the Mists . . . the Drowned Halls the Dark Waters are carpeted with white water lilies . . . [and] the Derelict Halls of the East where Ceilings, Floors — sometimes even Walls! — have collapsed and the dimness is split by shafts of grey light.

And in all this exploration, he tells us, “I have never seen any indication that the World was coming to an End, but only the regular progression of Halls and Passageways into the Far Distance.” Nor has he seen any other living person, save one (more on the Other, as he calls him, later), though there have been, he is certain, 15 people “whose existence is verifiable”: himself, the Other, and those 13 others whose remains he has found and cared for over the years, amongst them The Biscuit-Box Man, The Concealed Person, and The Folded-Up Child. He also imagines a 16th person: “And You . . . that I am writing for.”

Honestly, I could keep quoting Piranesi at length, just as I could have easily read many, many more pages of his days spent fishing, gathering sea weed, avoiding the tides that sweep through the lower halls, observing the albatrosses or other birds, cataloging each and every statues (his great project). I fell in love immediately with the character, the narrative voice, and the setting and could have happily stayed with them alone for the books slim 250 or so pages. Which is both appropriate and great praise (hey look, I did get to use that phrase!). Great praise because, well, I didn’t want to leave, so skillfully did Clark immerse me in her world and character. And appropriate because . . .

Hmm. Because. And here’s the rub in reviewing a novel like Piranesi. Because we do eventually leave, but why and how are part of a continually unfolding mystery that makes up much of the story. A mystery I don’t want to spoil even if it isn’t all that hard to guess at. And even if Clark herself offers up a major hint in her epigraphs and her names, not to mention the trail of breadcrumbs she lays out so delicately and precisely for us.

So I’ll just note a few plot points, because this either all becomes clear to Piranesi early on, or to the reader, who is often a few steps ahead of him thanks to our jaded natures. One is that Piranesi is not his real name, something he himself senses though he doesn’t know why (those gaps in his memory are one aspect of the mystery). Another is that The Other, whom he assumes is his friend, is not, though it takes our narrator far more time than the typical reader to realize this, thanks to lines like this:

The Other believes that there is a Great and Secret Knowledge hidden somewhere in the World that will grant us enormous powers . . . that might include the following: Vanquishing Death and becoming immortal . . . dominating lesser intellects and bending them to our will

To Piranesi, this is just the subject of their twice-weekly meetings on Tuesdays and Fridays. The reader will, of course, see this goal in a far less mundane fashion. Part of the underlying tension, therefore, is the reader’s concern that Piranesi see what we do before it’s too late. But that’s all I will say about plot and the mystery that gradually develops within it.

Which isn’t to say there’s nothing else to talk about. Because Piranesi is much more than a well-plotted story. I noted above it works on multiple levels, including the metaphoric. But here again I find myself loath to unpack too much of that. Partly because I don’t want to spoil the reader’s own blooming understanding and partly because to explain, to analyze, is in some ways to take apart and thus destroy what is so lovely. This was, in fact, some of the reason my original view was that I first loved Piranesi then liked it, because as we moved away from the ineffable beauty of the House and into the more realistic “explanations” of things, I felt a sense of loss, a whittling away of wonder and beauty. Of course, this is part of the point. Clark is already lighting the way to this realization when she has Piranesi come to his own epiphany that:

the search for the Knowledge has encouraged us to think of the House as if it were a sort of riddle to be unravelled, a text to be interpreted, and that if ever we discover the Knowledge, then it will be as if the Value has been wrested from the House and all that remains will be mere scenery . . . [but] The House is valuable because it is the House. It is enough in and of itself.

You can catch a glimpse in that quote of one of the ways the novel works with Piranesi’s reference to the House as a “text.” If the House is a story, then Piranesi is the reader wandering within its pages, a reader utterly immersed in, locked into its narrative. This is absolutely one way to read this book, and this reading offers up a host of questions. But it is not the only way to read the novel. Because if one does what Piranesi warns us against, if one “interprets” and “unravels” the text by, say, recalling (or looking up) what that Narnia epigraph is about, and recalling (or looking up), where the names of the characters come from, then Piranesi can be read as something far less benign (if that’s even the correct word in this creation) than a “reader.” After all, we have another word for a person “locked into” a structure. And don’t get me even started on the “Plato” reading of this text.

The questions that arise from these multiple readings, which lead to questions about our own way of living — our own movements through a House of Wonder we perhaps don’t take the time to not only appreciate but worship, a House we perhaps too often think of as something else — the lack of ready answers, the way the story progresses into something bittersweet and open-ended, even contradictory, all of this, in addition to the gorgeous imagery, the can’t-help-but-root-for main character, the clever allusions, and the intricate precision of the craft involved in creating a multi-layered work that is both incredibly dense and incredibly airy, is what makes Piranesi, yes, brilliant. I can’t wait to reread this book. I can’t wait to teach this book. And because it isn’t a doorstopper like Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, I can do both easily enough. And will.




1 See what I did here? Referenced Jonathan Strange and then put in a footnote. Because the footnotes are just one of the many glorious elements of that novel. And if you don’t know that, you should stop reading this and start reading that, because really, it’s far more rewarding than reading a review. It’s also, like Piranesi, brilliant. But in a completely different way. Why are you still here?

Piranesi was a delightful puzzle-box of a book. It’s the kind of novel you get swept away in immediately. I loved the narrator, and I loved discovering the House a little bit at a time. I enjoyed watching the plot unfurl, each puzzle piece slotting into place as the truth became clear. I will definitely recommend this through the holiday season.

I received a complimentary ARC copy of Piranesi by Susanna Clarke from NetGalley and Bloomsbury Publishing in order to read and give an honest review.
…so exquisitely unique and brilliant that it takes on a life of its own…
Every once in a while, a book comes along that is so exquisitely unique and brilliant that it takes on a life of its own, and for me Piranesi is just such a book. I loved Susanna Clarke’s last book “Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell” and was thrilled to see Piranesi listed on NetGalley. I love everything about Piranesi it is so vastly different and beautifully written I could not put it down. From beginning to end the book is so quirky and complex it is almost impossible to summarize in a way that doesn’t ruin the unfolding story for the reader. Our narrator, Piranesi lives in the halls of a massive labyrinth, he does not remember anything other than living in the Labyrinth and his only human company is “The Other,” whom he meets with regularly but does not know which part of the Labyrinth he comes from only that he is a scientist of sorts and he asks Piranesi collects data about the Labyrinth for him. Other than his research, Piranesi lives a simple life, he roams the statue lined corridors fishing and scavenging from the flooded levels of the labyrinth during high tide. He communes with the sea birds and cares for the skeletons that reside in the alcoves. He eagerly listens to the messages the labyrinth sends him looking for wisdom of who he is while flashes from a life lost long ago make him question his reality. Such a complex novel with a brilliant unfolding story filled with intrigue, ancient magic, victories and tragedies. I highly recommend.

I really enjoyed Piranesi. I might be the only person not to have read Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell and was pleasantly surprised to have found this great author. I enjoy fantasy and this world created by Ms. Clarke is fantastic. I will be rereading Piranesi now that the book is out. I read the ebook galley and I think I will enjoy it even more with the book in my hands.

I found this particular novels tone and cadence difficult to grasp in the beginning and I <i>almost</i> gave up but I’m so glad that I didn’t.

This compelling and spellbinding novel will have you wondering how and why so many times, but trust me, friends. You must continue. The house and the narrator will not disappoint you.

"I realised that the search for the Knowledge has encouraged us to think of the House as if it were a sort of riddle to be unraveled, a text to be interpreted, and that if ever we discover the Knowledge, then it will be as if the Value has been wrested from the House and all that remains will be mere scenery."

Piranesi lives a quiet life. He fishes, writes in his Journals, and cares for thirteen people (who happen to be skeletons) who are, at least as far as Piranesi knows, the only people who have ever lived, apart from himself and the Other. On Tuesdays and Fridays, Piranesi meets with the Other, a scholarly and pompous man, when they attempt to uncover a Great and Secret Knowledge.

His home is the House, a structure so large it encompasses Piranesi’s entire world. It has oceans with strong, dangerous tides that Piranesi keeps careful track of in his journals. It is home to a pair of albatrosses, the only other animals, besides the fish, that live there. Instead of living creatures, the House is full of statues: a statue of a gorilla, a statue of a young boy playing the cymbals, a statue of two men with strained faces as they emerge from the wall. These statues are his companions, and he loves them all, though he admits to himself — with some guilt — that he loves some more than others.

"Do trees exist?
Entry for the nineteenth day of the fifth month in the year the albatross came to the south-western halls
Many things are unknown. Once — it was about six or seven months ago — I saw a bright yellow speck floating on a gentle Tide beneath the Fourth Western Hall. Not understanding what it could be, I waded out into the Waters and caught it. It was a leaf, very beautiful, with two sides curving to a point at each end. Of course it is possible it was part of a type of sea vegetation that I have never seen, but I am doubtful. The texture seemed wrong. Its surface repelled Water, like something meant to live in Air."

But Piranesi has questions. He doesn’t think Piranesi is his real name, for one, but he can’t remember any other. He doesn’t know what the Other is doing with all his time, nor does he understand how he feeds himself, or why he always seems to look clean and polished and well-provisioned, while Piranesi wears rags and goes barefoot because he doesn’t have the time to make shoes out of the only available material — fish leather. He isn’t convinced that the Great and Secret Knowledge is worth looking for. And when he discovers that there’s somebody else in the House, whom the Other claims is their enemy and must be avoided if not destroyed outright, Piranesi begins to question everything — who he really is, who the Other is and what his goals are, and whether his love for the House is enough to keep him living in solitude forever.

I loved Piranesi, who is naïve, big-hearted, and pure, almost childlike in his wide-eyed innocence. The ease with which he’s taken advantage is agonizing, because he means well and cares so much for everything and everyone he comes into contact with. His frequent use of capitalization is illustrative of the reverence he has for all things, whether living, dead, or inanimate.

This strange world, with so few living characters and so much time spent wandering down Halls, lingering in Vestibules, and transcribing the Tides may lead the early reader to believe this book is more of character study than anything else. But there’s plenty of tension and action that transform what first appears to be a portrait of a House and its caretaker into a thrilling adventure that never loses sight of the sensitivity that grounds it and makes it something truly special.

I recommend this book to everyone, absolutely everyone. It is that magical, that beautiful, that heart-warming. If you’re a reader of romance, pick up Piranesi, where you’ll find a new kind of love, between a character and his cherished home. If you love suspense novels, read Piranesi, where the threat of an invisible danger could result in this young man’s death at one wrong turn. If you love literary fiction, read Piranesi, and linger on this novel’s unique form, its poetic descriptions, its masterful character development, all in only 245 pages. And if you, like so many of us, have struggled to focus on a book since March, I urge you to pick up Piranesi, and get lost in the beautiful, quiet Halls of this House.

When I fail to be as enthralled by a book, as other reviewers, I often wonder why. I think in this case it is because I am not really an erudite reader. In reading the reviews I came across the description of “academic thriller” and that it is. It is a very original tale and I think I just was not astute enough to capture all the layers in this story of Piranesi, the master and the 13 skeletons who Piranesi sees as humans. I am not particularly fond of surrealist work, and that may be at the bottom of my discomfort with this book.

Big fan of the author, well-written work. Will be purchasing this as a gift for my father.
A hurricane evacuation has impacted my ability to write lengthy reviews but this book did not disappoint.

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the ARC.

First, I will say that I was not prepared for PIRANESI. I mean, I was more than ready to read Susanna Clarke's long-awaited follow-up to JONATHAN STRANGE & MR NORRELL. (I'm a fan.) And I enjoy a good fantasy novel. So on the surface, I was ready. But I wasn't really ready-ready. Not at all. My life has been too grounded in scary reality lately (see: pandemics, social unrest, raging wildfires). PIRANESI caught me off-guard in the best way possible.

I don't even want to write a plot synopsis of this novel. I think if you go into it without any foreknowledge or expectation, you'll be better off. Just know that at its heart, PIRANESI meshes 100% with Clarke's oeuvre.

So what can I say about this novel that won't give too much away? The biggest recommendation I can give it is that it made me think SO MUCH. Nearly every aspect of the novel felt allegorical. There are numerous parallels to the world in 2020: adaptability in the face of adversity; struggles and stigmas with mental health; loneliness and the introvert vs extrovert debate; evil wrought by egomaniacal men, etc. I don't know when Clarke began writing PIRANESI, but it certainly speaks to the current state of our world.

The only thing that kept this from being a five-star read is its pace. There were sections that dragged a bit. While I appreciated Clarke's thoroughness in her descriptions of the House and what that implied of the main character's knowledge and comfort, I gradually tired of reading the precise locations she continuously provides.

PIRANESI is a thought-provoking fantasy novel. I'm sure there will be those who don't take to it, but I would highly recommend it to fans of Clarke. Her brand of magical fantasy, centered in a debate on ethics and morality, shines brightly.

Very different from the author's previous book. While the story does eventually come together, it takes a good 200 pages to do so, and even at the end, there is a lot that's not explained. The format and the premise will not appeal to all readers, especially those expecting a story similar to Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. Very speculative fiction.

Piranesi lives in the House, spending his days exploring its labyrinth of halls and cataloguing its wonders: the many statues, the tides that roar up and down staircases, and the clouds that move in stately procession through the upper halls. The only other living being he interacts with (aside from the birds) is a man known only as “the Other”, who is striving to uncover the “Great and Secret Knowledge”, something humanity once possessed, that granted them awesome powers, but subsequently gave up. Then messages begin to appear – there is someone else in the House. Are they friend or foe? Piranesi is curious but the Other claims that they bring madness and destruction and must be destroyed. Lost texts must be found, secrets must be uncovered, and Piranesi’s world will never be the same.

Susanna Clarke’s debut Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, which was longlisted for the Booker and Hugo award winning, was published all the way back in 2004. At first, Piranesi appears to be its opposite in every way: Jonathan Strange clocks in at just over 1000 pages, whereas Piranesi is a slim 272 pages; gone are the footnotes, the eighteenth century pastiche and omniscient narrator, in favour of a first-person narrator and the clear, precise prose of a scientifically minded journal. Whereas the scope of one was epic – spanning years, continents, and even worlds – the other is more intimate, even claustrophobic despite the enormity of the setting. But despite these aesthetic differences, they have more in common than would first appear.

Firstly, while the mode of the prose may be different, it still has the same gothic-tinged quality that makes it recognisably Clarke’s. Secondly, both are preoccupied with magic (the “Great and Secret Knowledge”), what happens to our world when it leaves and where it goes. In Jonathan Strange, Clarke presents magic as “the language of trees and rain and the stones of old cathedrals, of all the mundane things that made up the pastoral landscape of a forgotten English past.” In Piranesi, the strange labyrinth Piranesi himself inhabits is described as the rock hollowed out and shaped by the flow of magic over time, and, in both, wielding magic involves communing with natural forces.

The statues that fill the labyrinth with some small and some gargantuan, some pristine and others broken, while all possessing an unearthly beauty, they represent every idea, thought, and experience that’s ever existed; symbols that, like the bee, sword  and key in Erin Morgenstern’s The Starless Sea (whose underground story space bears some similarity to Piranesi’s labyrinth), or Lyra’s alethiometer, can be decoded on various levels of meaning. (There is a lot of classical imagery, from Minotaurs to the Faun that also graces the front cover, to Piranesi’s name itself, which is a reference to an Italian artist famous for painting fictitious labyrinths and prisons.)

There’s also a similar conflict over how magic should be used. The Other wants it to have power over others, and sees the House and everything in it as a means to an end, whereas Piranesi appreciates the beauty in everything, taking none of it for granted.

The book starts off rather slowly, as we only know what Piranesi knows, which, at the beginning, is practically nothing. But as Piranesi’s understanding increases, the plot unspools like a ball of yarn, gathering pace before culminating in a surprisingly suspenseful finale.

Similarities aside however, Piranesi is not just a retread of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. It may be slim but, like an onion, it has many layers to peel back and explore. Clarke’s second novel is definitely worth the wait.

Imagine you live in an endless labyrinth of rooms and halls peopled only by beautiful and sometimes terrifying looking statues. The lower floor is flooded and waves constantly crash beneath your feet. The upper floor is in the clouds. You keep company with the birds and the statues. You have responsibilities and weekly meetings with the only other inhabitant of the house. Your life is routine until someone new arrives… This is the world and life of the narrator of Piranesi as related through detailed journal entries.

Reading this book was not like any literary experience I’ve ever had! At first, I was a bit put off by the entries and wondered what was going on or if anything would, in fact, ever happen. It was like reading the journal of a marooned sailor or castaway. However, I quickly became charmed by the narrator and his interactions with every facet of his world (truly such a likeable man). I also found the world and the narrator’s descriptions of it fascinating. As the story progressed and more and more information was revealed, I was totally engrossed and continually wondering what I would learn next. It felt like being led through a labyrinth of thought, memory, and mystery and I highly enjoyed it! While I took my time reading the first half of the book, I raced through the second half and was left wanting to immediately start it again. Like Susanna Clarke’s first novel (and one of my all-time faves), Jonathan Strange and Mr NorrelI, this a book I would like to read again and again.

I can’t say I have an exact comparison for this book but it reminded me, in different ways, of Inception, The Magicians, The Starless Sea, and Borges’ The Garden of Forking Paths.

I'm a big fan of JS&MN and from the blurbs, had some trepidation about this -- in fantasy, the "house with infinite rooms" approach can be a recipe for bloated plot-free stem-winders -- but not to worry. For starters, the rooms are quite finite, and essentially only a single magical aspect -- getting there in the first place -- is used, a completely different approach than JS&MR. More generally, if JS&MR is Jane Austen and Charles Dickens with a healthy does of J.K. Rowling, Paranesi is Daniel Defoe and Robert Lewis Stevenson with a very mild dose of H.P. Lovecraft (in the sense of a magically-accessible ancient world, not nameless horrors).

The first third of the book is, in fact, a very slow development but creates a lovely character and a very consistent and believable world. The remainder is a relatively straightforward thriller, and as with JS&MR, Clarke excels at creating utterly despicable but quite believable antagonists, all the more believable if one is familiar with academic Anthropology. All well plotted, and as with JS&MN, Clarke demonstrates that the hoary "show don't tell" is a suggestion, not an immutable law.

I found the ending a bit abrupt, with two unresolved plot lines, but perhaps this will be fodder for future short stories. Or fan fiction.

I originally gave up on this book because I was just lost reading the beginning of this book. After reading reviews on Goodreads I decided to go back and finish my reading. I am glad that I finished. I've taken a few days to think about Piranesi before reviewing. I'm really still not sure how I feel about the book because I'm still not completely sure what I read. I'm not sorry that I spent the time to finish the book and I was engaged and intrigued to discover Piranesi's story. Still not really sure what I read...but I did finish and I would recommend this to other readers.

I tried a few times to read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, but it never really grabbed my attention. Piranesi, I thought, might. I didn’t know much about Piranesi before diving in, and at first, I thought the unclearness of what I was reading would eventually come into view. The more I read, the more I was unsure. At one point, I thought I sort of predicted what I thought would be its conclusion. In short, I felt mostly lost by the end.

After reading several other reviews of Piranesi, I sort kind of agree with them. This seems like a book that resembles memories and mind palaces…but I think I’ll go one further. How about a sort of recreation of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave? Later in Piranesi, Clarke shows Piranesi’s thoughts that the statues resembled the real world more than the real world. So, in short, Piranesi left me wondering what I just read…It isn’t really plot-driven and not so much character-driven either. Hmmmm.

Magical.. This book transported me to an otherworldly dimension and yet it was still tethered to our reality, by the protagonist's existential despair and all too human longing for a better world. What a trip!