A Head Full of Labyrinths: Susanna Clarke's "Piranesi"

As the whole world is shutting down, requiring people to withdraw into tiresome isolation and to see even less people than before, I feel myself more and more drawn to literary characters who are going through the same experience, dealing with various degrees of solitude, albeit under different circumstances. I had mentioned this strange kind of comfort before, in my review of Ottessa Moshfegh's books which feature insanely peculiar female characters in situations of extreme solitude. During the first lockdown in spring I read both My Year of Rest and Relaxation and Death in Her Hands by Moshfegh and found myself oddly fascinated by these women who, out of their free will, chose lonesomeness and told how they go through their days as if nothing else in the world mattered (and strangely enough, I never felt bored reading both these books, they are extremely captivating). That exactly, the ability to zoom out anything else going on around you and focus on your own microcosm is what interests and intrigues me particularly. What seems like a kind of self-centered mindfulness, an exaggerated sense of worth attributed to the everyday order and its documentation, might in fact be a very useful and vital strategy to cope with ruthless, bitter loneliness some of us need to endure these days.

So it is no wonder that I was completely smitten with Susanna Clarke's delightful fantasy standalone Piranesi, in which the titular character lives alone in "the House", a building full of intricate labyrinths, endless halls displaying thousands of gigantic statues. The House is as alienating as it is wondrous and has its own physical rules; in its basement is the sea, sending at times its unruly tides to flood the halls and in the upper halls are the clouds. In Piranesi's world there are 15 people, 13 of them dead bodies of presumably previous residents of the House and then there are himself and the Other who comes to visit Piranesi twice a week. Most of the time Piranesi is alone and contemplates and talks to birds, visits the dead and the statues but most importantly wanders, measures, marvels at the House, learning its ways. He is very strongly attached to the place and this attachment can take somewhat religious dimensions:

It is my belief that the World (or, if you will, the House, since the two are for all practical purposes identical) wishes an Inhabitant for Itself to be a witness to its Beauty and the recipient of its Mercies.

What secrets the house actually bears, whatever life the House has in store for Piranesi and how he can put his acquired knowledge into use, is for you to read. Clarke's masterpiece does not only have a flashy title, tasteful cover art, fantastic prose, an atmospheric setting that keeps haunting the reader for weeks and that is inspired equally by Borges' labyrinth stories as by the real life Piranesi's etchings "Carceri d'Invenzione"; it is above all a bitter-sweet story as heartbreaking as it is awe inspiring.

At this point I want focus a little more and discuss the character Piranesi in relation to the isolation he is in and his reactions to his surroundings. Starting off as a somewhat distorted ingénue type of character, Piranesi will lead a very lonesome yet vivid life in the House before events will force him to undergo a character development which can only be described as off the charts. Although much hints at insanity in the beginning, not long into the book do we realize that there is something much more sinister and complex at work - a suspense that will be maintained until about the last third of the book. But the remaining two thirds he is alone in the House, exploring. Before everything and above all Piranesi attaches an intense importance to his surroundings, to the grooming and health of his body and to his rituals, especially with the dead. This carefulness is pure because there is absolutely no social enforcement in his doings. He is as pure, stripped-down and serene as the language Clarke uses to describe his story. He is composed, steadfast, strong, devoid of vices such as jealousy, desperation or resentment, primarily because his absolute focus is on himself and his connection to The House. Just as the architect who lends him his name, the character Piranesi too has an intuitive talent and a penchant to mathematical genius concerning constructions and buildings as he can wander the labyrinths without getting lost, he can calculate the time and strength of tides to provide his own safety and finally he keeps frantically meticulous journals about his life and the halls - his head is full of labyrinths and it is this occupancy that keeps him from spending thoughts on the bigger labyrinth and mystery that his own story in fact is. And that, to me, is an immensely fascinating and healing concept.

Sometimes your TBR plan can play tricks on you: you can read a bunch of random books and realize they all deal with the same subject or sometimes you read a book exactly at the right moment, which happened to me with Piranesi. I so cared for Piranesi that the possibility of him being harmed gave me stomach pains (If you already did or will in the future decide to read it for yourself, you will see how that care really turns you upside down in the end). I am not sure if I would have liked him as much under normal circumstances, as to now he just reminds me too much of us in isolation. There is one thing I am sure of though; you too will never forget Piranesi. With this in mind, and in the words of the man in question;

"Be comforted"!