![]() ![]() ![]() Now I wish I still had it, because if Clarke is good enough to make the weird world of Piranesi feel real to me, I trust her enough to try it again. ![]() I gave up on Clarke’s earlier novel Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell – not just gave up, but gave it up, donating it to the book sale after a couple of failed attempts to get into it. By training and inclination I am (more or less) a realist the two genres I always have the least success with reading are fantasy and science fiction. Piranesi is a strange, wondrous, mysterious novel, the kind of book that makes me marvel that someone ever had the idea to write it, much less carried it out so that a reader like me could be moved and transported by it. I note with precision the doors I must pass through, the rights and lefts that I must take, the statues on the walls that I must pass. I imagine I am walking the path from the vestibule to the hall. When this world becomes too much for me, when I grow tired of the noise and the dirt and the people, I close my eyes and I name a particular vestibule to myself then I name a hall. ![]() In my mind are all the halls, the endless procession of them, the intricate pathways. In my mind are all the tides, their seasons, their ebbs and their flows. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |