Review of Piranesi

Piranesi

Author: Susanna Clarke

Publisher: The Folio Society Ltd. 2025

Date of Publication: May 2025 (Folio Society edition)

 

    In his whole world, two people live. In the whole world, the bones of less than twenty people have been found and honored. The world is a labyrinth of ancient halls peopled only by statues, tides sweeping their bottom layer and constellations lighting the top layer, the one livable floor in the center. For the narrator the halls and his sole fellow occupant are all the life he needs– until a third person appears, and the narrator begins to question what his halls and his mind might hide.

    There is a slippery quality to the writing that comes from the partially mad narrator for whom the book is named. Piranesi reveals the world in journal entry chapters. The reader learns of labyrinth life through his awe and curiosity, his reverence for unexplained statues and bones, and his careful documentation of the threats and resources of the tides. It is a method of world-building both frustrating and seemingly elementary. Piranesi queries the logistics of his world and admires its beauty, but seeks only to inhabit it fully, not know either its purpose or his within it. This leaves the reader equally alone to grapple with the improbability of his labyrinth and his incomplete conceptions of it, limited by the physical and mental bounds of his curiosity and experience. Piranesi must be trusted, skeptically – his is the only account of his world. The reader is held in suspense, not just skepticism, by the tension between his naivete (its own kind of madness) and his knowledge.

    There are two primary kinds of madness in Piranesi’s world. There is his own, revealed piece by piece as caused by others. And there is the madness of the Other, his one living companion, who demands of the labyrinth purpose and gifts, not just the requirements of survival. The greed and impatience of the Other alongside Piranesi’s patient, accepting contentment give Piranesi a comparative humanity that gentles the effect of his naivete on the reader. Yet just as the reader comes to trust him as a narrator, Piranesi loses trust in himself and his world. His grief and the maturity with which he approaches the massive uprooting of his life beg the question of what is more mad: accepting and embracing the world as it is, or trying to force it to explain and accommodate, as the Other does.

    The subtleties of this book made me appreciate it more after reading than during reading. The slow build of madness expressed as innocence, the vague sense of unease without one focal point, and Piranesi’s explanation of the setting in a way that only makes sense to him make the read unsatisfying at times. But the same things that leave the reader discontented are the ones that I found myself discussing days after finishing the book. Pick it up when you have time to be a quietly frustrated, a little sad, and willing to question whether Piranesi’s madness is more riddle or gift, what we lose when we ask the world to explain itself.

 

 

Review of The Da Vinci Code

 The Da Vinci Code

Author: Dan Brown

Publisher: Doubleday

Date of Publication: March 2003

 

In Paris, Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon receives an urgent late-night phone call. The curator of the Louvre has been found, murdered, inside the museum. On his body remains a stupefying cipher, leading to hidden meanings in Da Vinci’s works. To solve both the murder and the cipher, Langdon joins forces with French cryptologist Sophie Neveu. Langdon and Neveu become involved in an intense race against an anonymous, powerful actor trying to solve the same mysteries. Unless they can beat their threatening opponent, the curator’s secrets, and critical historical truth, will be lost forever.

This book reads foremost as a page turner. There are car chases, villains on the edge of madness, and layers of riddles with answers just out of reach. The Paris setting gives Brown opportunities to divert characters’ attention to local scenery and tourist attractions when the characters—and sometimes the readers—need to catch their breath. The combination of the story’s reliance on real art and organizations, its nerdy protagonists, and the mystery thriller genre makes the book a reinvigorating read for students or academics accustomed to more dense literature.

Brown’s choice of genre does create some challenges. His story can sometimes feel like an unresolved conflict of interest between dangerous, fantastical adventure, and explaining the conspiratorial historical context on which the adventures rely. The opening scene, the murder of an art curator by an albino religious zealot, suggests that the real world will provide a physical launch point for the events of the story, but that the plot takes a less familiar path. Brown’s writing oscillates between two primary styles: paragraphs on art and architecture, and dialogue between Sophie and Robert. The culture sections read more as miniature lessons than transitional plot points. The research is impressive and interesting, and anchoring for a story whose progressive mysteries revolve in large part around ancient religious artifacts and famous art. However, given Brown’s interest in the pure history of the real works he uses, the dialogue between Sophie and Robert has to remind the reader why the lessons are relevant to the fiction. They are a bridge between action and elucidations. This comes at the cost of character development, and weakens the depth of scenes that rely on exchanges between the two.

Brown’s writing can also be a bit clunky when it comes to establishing a scene. He writes from a third person limited perspective, which suits the mystery genre. Yet a lot that has to be shown and made intriguing to the reader in every scene—why a particular riddle is so challenging to solve, why the codebreakers are on the run, etc. To show all the angles and risks involved without giving away the rest of the story, Brown switches between characters, often backtracking a bit when that switch occurs. It is an effective method of explaining different motivations and fears driving his character’s actions. However, it can create abrupt interruptions in both the flow of the story and the reader’s engrossed attention.

But like many a Paris adventure, The Da Vinci Code is fun. It is fast. It’s just a little crazy. The puzzle solving relies on the interweaving of real and imagined history, creating a desire to know what of that history is actual fact, what stems from religious or academic convictions, and whether the characters are driven by fictitious or legitimate beliefs. The riddles and puzzles require physical action and risk to solve, giving tangibility and immediacy to the characters’ experience. Even though the protagonists are not the most developed individuals, they are likeable and vulnerable. Hope for their survival and their victory propels the story, as does eager curiosity. Brown’s style may not be for every reader. However, his book is perfect for a day of travel, a stormy evening, a voracious late-night binge illuminated by a dimmed book light - whenever a reader is lucky enough to have time to let themselves be uncritically consumed by the thrill of fantastical questions, urgent dangers, and startling possibilities.