Completed November 2021
PIRANESI
I was worried, at first, my expectations for Piranesi were too high. I had it on my to-buy from the announcement of the Women's Prize for Fiction longlist, but my shelves kept filling up, removing my need to restock for most of the year. But when its status evolved from nominee to victor I knew I would need to re-prioritise, because every opinion I heard suggested it was special. The synopsis captured me immediately, and I found myself indulging the hype before I'd opened the first page. In hindsight, expecting so much could have been a recipe for disaster, but I needn't have worried. This book is precious.
What emerged was just over 200 pages of beautiful writing, in equal parts fantastical and grounded, descriptive and emotive. Its strangeness can not be underestimated, but never did it detract from the hugely empathetic title character, or his wondrous journey.
The plot was simple in the sense that Piranesi's arc was clear, but complex in how much backstory there is to reveal. To put it into perspective, the protagonist begins the book believing he is one of the only 15 people who have ever existed – two of which are currently alive, himself and the Other. It's true that the reader arrives with knowledge that fair outstrips his own, but there's plenty we assume wrongly about too. The most exhilarating aspect is the rollercoaster of unravelling the truth alongside him – especially with how many twists and surprises emerge.
We also accompany Piranesi in his discovery of more and more of his surroundings. To describe the setting as immersive would be an understatement, as I felt completely absorbed into the House – its halls horrifying and grand in equal measures. As much as I enjoy realistic fiction, it was a fantastic escape into somewhere totally unfamiliar, and awe-inspiring. This feeling was utilised throughout the narrative, as Piranesi's connection to his home drives his decisions time and again.
This dynamic further fuelled his character growth, in the sense that we, the reader, can see the discomfort and aforementioned horror of a labyrinth of empty rooms. There is only dried seaweed and what meagre fish he can catch for sustenance, and the only company he shares is largely cold and distant. Part of what makes his character so refreshing is his response to this. His optimism, enthusiasm and even gratitude is nothing short of astonishing. It's impossible not to warm to him... not in spite of his quirks, but because of them.
There is a final reason Piranesi will remain close to my heart. Upon finishing, desperate to learn more about Clarke and her story, I found myself reading any interview I could find. In this way I learned her experience of writing the novel was impacted by chronic illness – which also contributed to the sixteen year gap since her first publication. As someone who has spent the last three years managing an undiagnosed condition, this truly floored me. Not only did it make her success even more impressive, but all at once I saw further layers of meaning in the book.
Piranesi is trapped, his world limited by monumental factors far beyond his control. His horizons could hardly be smaller, the universe beyond his walls impossible to grasp. And yet, he persists. He finds meaning where he can. He sees beauty in the world, and value in his actions. This is difficult, at times, but worth it – as is the pursuit of living whilst chronically ill.
Whilst the parallel isn't perfect, it is meaningful. Piranesi's worldview is pure and optimistic and a perfect reminder that it's possible to find comfort in when times get hard – whichever world you inhabit.
“The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its kindness infinite.”