This is by far one of the most unusual and unexpectedly rewarding books I’ve read.
First up, let me confess: It took me three attempts to read it. The first two ended in DNFs. I simply couldn’t get into it. And that is why I am so glad I went back a third time.
If you’ve been meaning to read it, here’s something I wish someone had told me before I started:
- Go into it blind. Don’t read the reviews.
- The book takes time to reveal itself (don’t give up before you cross the first fifty pages). It will amaze and delight you in the most wholesome way.
- Lastly, if you find the descriptions of statues, rooms and vestibules confusing and overwhelming, worry not. You don’t have to remember names or numbers. Just read on.
A little bit about the book
Now that we have got that out of the way, let me give you a glimpse of the book in the hope that even if you are not keen on picking it up, you just might be tempted.
Clarke imagines a world that exists entirely inside a House – a vast seemingly unending structure that contains an ocean – yes a whole ocean.
It has three levels. The lower levels are submerged under water with waves lashing its doors and windows. The upper level is filled with clouds. The middle level is the one that has life – birds and human. Each level has numerous vestibules, rooms and staircases filled with enormous statues.
The story unfolds through journal entries of a man called Piranesi, although he is somehow aware that this is not his real name. There is only one other person in this world, whom he refers to simply as the ‘Other’.
The protagonist
Piranesi spends his days exploring and documenting the house. He charts the tides, he watches the birds, records the statutes in each room and vestibule. He meticulously puts down his thoughts and observations (which is where and why boredom might set in, but do go on).
Towards the middle of the book, the mystery begins to unfold and that’s when the narrative picks up pace and after that I couldn’t stop reading.
However, more than anything else, it is Piranesi who made me love the book. His innocent child-like world view seems almost naive, and yet there is a wisdom in him that is enchanting.
In my review here, I am going to focus on Piranesi, the man, and why it was he who kept me going.
Why Piranesi is one of my favourite protagonists
(This is going to be long but you might find some life lessons if you read on)
To a reader, as it is to the Other, the house is an inhospitable place – cold, windy and empty with the constant threat of flooding. It might even seem limiting, claustrophobic, maybe.
Not to Piranesi.
“The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.”
He loves it, reveres it and accepts it as a life-giving force.
“The House is valuable because it is the House. It is enough in and of Itself. It is not the means to an end.”
That’s a line I kept coming back to.
We often see the world only in terms of what it can give us. We value a place because of what it offers us, a relationship because of what it does for us, a job because of where it might take us. Even experiences are often measured by what they lead to.
That’s not how Piranesi thinks.
The house is enough simply because it exists. And that is why he can find wonder in a place where others find fear.
When he is frightened or overwhelmed, he reminds himself:
“It does not matter that you do not understand the reason. You are the Beloved Child of the House. Be comforted.
And I am comforted.”
Such faith in the house!
He surprises me with his joy, every time.
“Not everything about the Wind was bad. Sometimes it blew through the little voids and crevices of the Statues and caused them to sing and whistle in surprising ways; I had never known the Statues to have voices before and it made me laugh for sheer delight.”
To me, this would have been alarming, to him it’s delightful, a gift.
Clarke’s storytelling skill is such that it makes his way of seeing believable. She makes Piranesi the book, the man, believable.
In an interview, she has spoken about initially imagining Piranesi as a rather cross, solitary man – because that’s what we might expect someone living alone to become. However, I am ever so glad she changed her mind.
That to me is what stood out in the book – Piranesi’s love and gratitude for the house, his oneness with it.
“The World feels complete and whole, and I, its Child, fit into it seamlessly.”
When the Other receives things that Piranesi doesn’t, he does not become resentful. Instead he tells himself that perhaps the Other needs them more.
“It occurs to me to wonder why it is that the house gives a greater variety of objects to the Other than to me… I think perhaps it is because the Other is not as skilled in taking care of himself as I am….”
He goes on to write, that had the House not provided for the Other, Piranesi himself would have had to take care of him. And so he remains grateful.
He isn’t grateful because his life is easy. It isn’t.
He is grateful because he has learned to see what is there not what is not there.
We on the other hand, live in a world that gives us so much, and yet we move through life dwelling on the things we are missing. What if we could look at our world with even a fraction of Piranesi’s wonder? We would then notice that our own world, too, is immeasurable in its beauty and its bounty.
I finished the book thinking less about the mystery and more about its philosophy. And that is the real gift of this strange, beautiful book.