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Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
by Susanna Clarke, Portia Rosenberg
by Susanna Clarke, Portia Rosenberg
This is an extraordinary book.
One extraordinary element is how little actually happens in it, and how casually that little seems to occur, and yet how significant it all comes across as. Magical events pop up with all the verve and action of the previous scene's sitting in a drawing room discussing literature, and yet it all remains quite gripping. The casual sense by which the entire tale happens, treating miraculous and the mundane with quiet intensity, is remarkable.
Indeed, intensity wrapped in formal language and settings, is the hallmark of this book. It grips you even as it holds you at formal arm's length. The episodic nature of the narrative left me constantly wondering what would come next, and usually surprised by it.
For a book that's centered on the return of magic to England, the nature of what magic is (and where it comes from and how it's used and why it went away) is treated only lightly. We catch glimpses, and see results (rich and romantic or straightforwardly marvelous), but explanations are focused more on the historical and academic debate over the characters in question and their time than on how they actually performed their craft.
The book falls short of five-star perfect in two ways:
1. It is long. Godawfully long. I felt as though I'd already read a lengthy novel, only to note on my ereader that I was only 30% through. Not that I have any idea of what I'd cut out (unless it would be to break it into two pieces), but it felt at times like I was on an endless slog through something delicious but confining.
2. The book ... ends. Not that I wasn't happy that it finally ended, but the ending itself feels anticlimactic. The grand conflicts mostly fizzle out, people succeed or die or vanish, the protagonists are largely removed from the arena ... and (save for a quietly poignant scene), it's over. Again, I'm not sure what more I wanted, save perhaps some sense of resolution. As it is, it feels as though the author ran out of narrative, and just wrapped things up.
I received this book as a gift (thanks, Randy!) three or four years ago, but just got around to reading it. I regret the delay.
Will I read it again? Well, no time soon, but it's certainly a strong possibility someday.
One extraordinary element is how little actually happens in it, and how casually that little seems to occur, and yet how significant it all comes across as. Magical events pop up with all the verve and action of the previous scene's sitting in a drawing room discussing literature, and yet it all remains quite gripping. The casual sense by which the entire tale happens, treating miraculous and the mundane with quiet intensity, is remarkable.
Indeed, intensity wrapped in formal language and settings, is the hallmark of this book. It grips you even as it holds you at formal arm's length. The episodic nature of the narrative left me constantly wondering what would come next, and usually surprised by it.
For a book that's centered on the return of magic to England, the nature of what magic is (and where it comes from and how it's used and why it went away) is treated only lightly. We catch glimpses, and see results (rich and romantic or straightforwardly marvelous), but explanations are focused more on the historical and academic debate over the characters in question and their time than on how they actually performed their craft.
The book falls short of five-star perfect in two ways:
1. It is long. Godawfully long. I felt as though I'd already read a lengthy novel, only to note on my ereader that I was only 30% through. Not that I have any idea of what I'd cut out (unless it would be to break it into two pieces), but it felt at times like I was on an endless slog through something delicious but confining.
2. The book ... ends. Not that I wasn't happy that it finally ended, but the ending itself feels anticlimactic. The grand conflicts mostly fizzle out, people succeed or die or vanish, the protagonists are largely removed from the arena ... and (save for a quietly poignant scene), it's over. Again, I'm not sure what more I wanted, save perhaps some sense of resolution. As it is, it feels as though the author ran out of narrative, and just wrapped things up.
I received this book as a gift (thanks, Randy!) three or four years ago, but just got around to reading it. I regret the delay.
Will I read it again? Well, no time soon, but it's certainly a strong possibility someday.
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