Literary Affairs: Piranesi

Title: Piranesi.
Language: English.
Author: Susanna Clarke.
Published: 2020.
Pages: 245.
Genre: Fantasy, mystery, magical realism, philosophical and psychological thriller.
Translation: Available in Finnish, Korean, Spanish and German.
Rating: 4 out of 5 hangovers.

A book so confusing and satisfying.

This book is nothing short but an experience, to the point where I don’t even know what to write about it. It’s highly subjective, but also understandable as to why it’s so popular.

This is not a “true” book review, but more so me trying to get a few of my questions answered. Slight spoiler… I think.

The House.. the damn House. By the description of the main character, Piranesi, the House is as beautiful as it is kind and I’ve personally been hooked on the House’s layout and design since Piranesi talked about going to the Ninth Vestibule to witness the joining of the three Tides the day the Moon rose in the Third Northern Hall. The remarkable Ninth Vestibule for the three great Staircases that it contains. My first question was, ”What the hell is a vestibule?’. Googled it and after seeing the images, I still feel like I don’t understand what a vestibule is, but at the same time I do? I think it’s because I’m trying to make sense of it in relation to this book, which is actually giving me a slight headache, so I’m just going to stop.

The way Piranesi describes his surroundings, and to some level his lifestyle, makes you think (or at least gave me the feeling) that these are the descriptions told through the eyes of a teenager or even a child, until you find out that he’s a man in his early to mid-30’s. The definition of childlike wonder. I keep asking myself the question as to why he’s portrayed like this.

The Other? How I loathe that mf. I had a bad feeling about him from the get-go because what do you mean Piranesi is walking around in rags, yet the Other always has everything available to use and to even give to Piranesi when needed? The 15-word quote on page 187 confirmed a suspicion I already had from a few pages before.

And speaking of pages, my wtf-pages are 79 (the conversation between the two people), 118-120 (biography of James Ritter), 152-153, 173-183 (the events of 15 November 2012), 222-223. My face was extremely loud whether I read them in the privacy of my home or out in public.

Honorable mention, the page that almost got me choked up, page 216.

But still… this damn house. It still baffles me.
What do you mean that the lower floor is submerged under the sea and the upper floor is surrounded by clouds and the sky, yet the same house is nothing but labyrinths? Also, it’s fucking humongous because AGAIN, what do you mean it sometimes takes Piranesi 3.76 hours to reach that damn Western Hall? And speaking of halls, why are there 7687 of them?

I started off wishing that there were more explanations as to why the House was built the way that it is, but as I write this, I’m also remembering that there is a slight reference to the house on the pages mentioned earlier, 152 and 153.

There are a few references to the sea, or just water in general. The Tides, the Waves, the completely submerged lower floor. Battersea. Water has always been seen as something powerful, especially in psychology, representing fluid emotions and even the source of life. The ability to sustain and destroy, even the unconscious mind. Transformation and rebirth with its purification symbolism and the ability to start fresh leading to some emotional healing. It’s no surprise then that there’s a massive flood at the end of the story with the accompanying aftermath. And since this whole novel is a bit of a mind fuck, to put it lightly, it makes me so much sense and makes me love it even more. The never-ending symbolism now that I think about it makes me excited about possibly re-reading it and doing a deep dive into its underlying and simultaneously apparent symbolistic meanings and Piranesi’s relation to the Statues, for example why some trigger fear and an unsettling feeling within him.

It’s remarkable how this novel is deeply personal, uneasy and melancholic mixed with a childlike wonder. Adventurous, risky and grounded. Brave and cautious. So confusing, but also so satisfying. It’s as if you truly understand what’s trying to be said and portrayed, but at the same time what’s still trying to be said in the grand scheme of things is nothing but a giant question mark.