Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell: A Novel

One of the most ambitious and difficult novels I've ever had the pleasure of reading, Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is a mind-bogglingly complex literary masterpiece that breathes new life into the fantasy genre by making it old again. Written as if Charles Dickens and Jane Austen conspired to write an epic fantasy novel, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell concerns two magicians—the titular Strange and Norrell—and their burgeoning friendship and later rivalry during the Napoleonic Wars of the early 19th century. Working with the intent of "bringing magic back to England," Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell have completely different philosophies regarding magic and its practical use. Mr Norrell is reclusive, snobbish, and studious; he believes magic should only be performed after one has accounted for all of the possible outcome (preferably after reading tomes and tomes of dense books). Jonathan Strange, on the other hand, is young, brash, and flashy; in his eyes, the boundaries of magic should be pushed with an almost reckless abandon. However, both Strange and Norrell's meddling in the magical arts end up catching the attention of powerful and nefarious beings beyond their ability to comprehend, with disastrous results for Europe and those they hold dear. Prior to Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, I'd only read Susanna Clark's most recent novel, Piranesi, a short magical story with hidden depths. I really enjoyed Piranesi, and that novel almost acts as an appetizer to the delights one will find within the pages of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. I mean, there are footnotes in this novel that contain more imagination than most modern fiction released in any given year. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell can almost be viewed as a novel made up stories—literally hundreds of stories and plots and literary asides and myths and fables—that weave together to tell an epic tale of friendship, rivalry, and dark magic. By the time I finished this book, I really felt as if I'd just read an alternate history of Great Britain during the early 1800s. With all that said (and I say this in the strongest possible terms), most readers will find Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell an extremely difficult read. It's literary stylings—from its depiction of character development, dialogue, and action to its almost maddening tendency to chase down arcane rabbit trails—are firmly rooted in the literary tradition of Charles Dickens, Leo Tolstoy, and Alexander Dumas (with nods to C.S Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and George MacDonald). Some people will absolutely hate the way this book is written, paced, and executed. I, for one, loved it—but I'm also here to tell you that it's not for everyone. Though Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is a long book, it's best viewed as one novel split into three volumes made up of dozens of almost self-contained chapters that tell an overarching narrative that spans 10 years. If one is up to the task, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is an immensely satisfying, exhausting, and rewarding read. It whet my appetite to read more literary classics that inspired it, and it gave me a greater appreciation for a more intellectual style of writing. Also, this book is so funny—the use of wry British dialogue brought a smile to my face every time a witty or self-depreciating aside was made. Additionally, the pen-and-ink illustrations by Portia Rosenberg are a beautiful touch. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is nothing short of a masterpiece. It absolutely blows my mind that this was Susanna Clark's debut novel—I cannot imagine the herculean task is must of been to write this book (seriously, Piranesi could've literally been a footnote in this novel). From the battlefields of Waterloo and the canals of Venice to the Kingdoms of Faerie and the dark enchanted mansions of the Gentleman with Thistle-Down Hair, I'd follow Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell down to the depths of Hell to fight the Raven King himself if it meant spending more time with these two gentlemen magicians.

In an alternate history version of Britain, the Napoleonic Wars rage across Europe, Mad King George sits on the throne, and England has no magicians to help. It used to have them, a long time ago. One, the legendary John Uskglass, even established a separate kingdom in Northern England. There are still people who call themselves magicians, but they only study history and theory. They cannot perform magic. Until one day when an obscure country gentleman, Gilbert Norrell, makes the stone statutes of his local church come alive as an announcement that magic has returned to the land. He goes to London, eager to be useful in the war effort (and just as eager to receive the plaudits for so doing). He makes his name in the city by bringing back to life the fiancee of a government minister with the help of a fairy that he summons, the Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair. He makes a bargain with the fairy for half the woman’s life, but as in many fairy tales, he is deceived. Emma Pole enjoys only a brief period of her revived life before the fairy comes to collect what is his, requiring her to attend balls in Faerie every night that leave her exhausted and dazed during the day, unable to fully function. Norrell is a cautious, proud, and miserly man, who jealously guards the secrets of his art. But even his hoarding of nearly every book of magic in England cannot prevent the rise of another magician, Jonathan Strange. Strange is about as different from Norrell as it is possible to be: younger, much more impulsive, intuitive, personable. When Jonathan and his wife Arabella come to London as well, one would think there would be a clash…but for a time, the magicians get on well together, with Norrell carefully doling out knowledge to the younger man. But when Strange is deployed to war under the command of Lord Wellington, developing his skills in the field, he no longer finds that he needs Norrell’s tutelage and the two quarrel. Magic, though, does not limit itself to what Norrell and Strange want, and the Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair takes an active interest in the people of England that has devastating consequences. This novel is epic, sprawling, and ambitious. In its setting and scope, it evokes the great classics of the Napoleonic Wars: War & Peace, Vanity Fair, and The Count of Monte Cristo came to my mind as I read it. It’s a bold move to place your book among those, but Clarke brings her own take on events to the table. That said, it does not always achieve what it seems to be going for. Pacing is a real issue, with a very slow start and significant drag in the back half (which feels like it might be intended to set up the sequel Clarke was originally planning). For a book of this length, the character development is surprisingly thin. Strange is the most well-rounded one but the novel is not interior at all. That being said, there are quite a lot of characters, and several of the less prominent ones are vivid and interesting, so Clarke mostly is able to distract from the lack of depth with a well-populated world. I’m not sure how much I thought Clarke’s nods to Georgian/Regency-era writing (using “shew” instead of “show”, “suprize” instead of “surprise”, etc) are successful. I think the style she deploys calls to mind that era of writing well enough without those sort of things and I found it distracting as much as anything else. But I loved the footnotes, and the overall tone of her prose. It’s overall a good book, sometimes even very good, but a big time commitment.

Beautiful hardcover edition of this incredible story. Book arrived packaged well.

Este libro es una verdadera obra maestra. Yo lo tengo en mi top 10 de fantasía, junto con Babel de R.F. Kuang. La cosa es, si estás buscando acción, adrenalina y escenas súper impresionantes de combate con magia; no las vas a encontrar aquí. Este libro no es para todos (eso no quiere decir que no sea bueno), es más cómo una ficción histórica con magia para condimentar la narrativa; pero si son de los pacientes que deciden darle una oportunidad, no se van a arrepentir.

Great book.

Turkish 41 yo lady here. I was captivated by the atmosphere, wit, and cleverness. Clarke’s command of language is remarkable, and her Victorian pastiche is near perfect. The magical world building is subtle and textured, and I appreciated the dry humor and occasional flashes of brilliance. But the last 300 pages dragged both physically and emotionally. The book is literally too heavy (mine fell apart at the spine at page 418), and the narrative weight doesn’t justify its length. The ending felt anticlimactic: so much buildup, so little catharsis. Too much time is spent on irrelevant side details, and the emotional payoff between characters felt muted. I didn’t mind the bittersweet tone — I just wanted it to hit harder.

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