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I ain't gonna lie: this
one was a bit of a slog. I schlepped this behemoth around in with
me every day for a few months, hanging like a paper albatross in my
messenger bag around my neck. I thought several times about breaking
my hard and fast rule about not finishing a book I've started and
putting it down. The decision weighed on my every morning when I boarded
my train and every night when I sat in bed with the tome crushing
my upper thighs. I hadn't been so intimidated by a book since Infinite
Jest all those years back. Granted, the subject matter here was much
more pedestrian and the reading comprehension level way less intense.
That's not to say swapping endnotes like those in Infinite Jest for
footnotes in this book lessens the challenge, but despite the 1806
setting and a narrative based on a bizarro England in which there
is magic and an alternate history including mysterious kings and magicians,
the thing is relatively straight forward and a compelling read (despite
its heft).
So once I came to the conclusion (for the fifth time) that I was going
to see this book through, I really tried to get into the spirit of
the book. It's not typical book by any stretch--or at least typical
of what I normally read. I suppose it's considered a fantasy novel,
but it has elements of historical fiction and a heavy dose of what,
in my limited literary vocabulary, I would say is classic nineteenth
century British writing. The history of the world is cast in a magical
light. Sure, there are the folks you've heard of in terms of kings
and queens and some leaders and wars, but the world's past (or England's
at least) was dominated by the dual world that we live in and the
land of faerie, which lived in parallel with real world England, but
site somehow just beyond its borders. Fairies and humans mingle, kings
rule one or both of the lands, and magic abounds. But it seems, after
centuries of practical magic (actual magic practiced by real magicians)
that the English magician has gone the way of the dodo. Actual practicing
magicians have absented the scene, left only to history books and
the study of scholars. These scholars, or so-called theoretical magicians,
gather in fraternity-like groups, study at universities and collect
the ancient magical writings of the past magicians but don't actually
"do" any magic. Like scholars who study the great authors
or artistic masters, but don’t actually write or paint anything of
their own. A commentary from Ms. Clarke perhaps?
Enter Mr. Norrell. And he's kind of a dick. Okay, he's not a dick,
but he's a selfish, somewhat paranoid guy who decides he is going
to singlehandedly bring magic back to England and restore it to its
prior glory. He decides the best way to go about this is to put all
of the theoretical magicians out of business. The thing is, the only
way for magicians to learn new spells and do magic really is to draw
from the past. And the past is contained in the many ancient books
written by a number of famous and not so famous practical magicians
throughout the centuries. So Mr. Norrell's first plan was to hoard
all of these books and sequester them away in a library in Northern
England. The second plan was to go around breaking up all of the theoretical
magician study groups and taking what books they might have. His plan
actually succeeds and after a bit of time he's pretty much cornered
the market on all the important books (it's 1809 and there's no mass-reproduction
available) and put all of the "fake" magicians out of business.
If I continued with the whole narrative thing here, I'll be writing
for the next three years, so I'll cut to the chase. Mr. Norrell is
a dick. He realizes after a time that his dickish-ness may actually
be an impediment to bringing magic back to England so he takes on
a pupil, Jonathan Strange. It certainly seems like a huge concession
at the time, but I guess even dicks can be lonely in their knowledge.
While Mr. Norrell teaches Jonathan Strange, who is basically the polar
opposite of Mr. Norrell in all ways, some of the tricks of the trade,
he holds out on him quite a bit and doesn't share all of his best
books with him. After all, there should really be only one great magician
in England. Despite Norrell's best attempts to keep the reigns pretty
tights, Strange in many ways surpasses Norrell's fame and in his service
to England in the war against the French distinguishes himself as
a national hero. He was an easy hero to have; charismatic and cooperative,
young and sociable. Norrell was dry and academic and anti-social.
So, as any relationship will progress, the mentorship turned to rivalry,
which turned to animus and eventually magical craziness.
My description being pretty piss-poor, and almost impossible to accomplish
in a few paragraphs about an 850 page book, there is a fun mixture
here of a world that is close to our own, but shifted the left. Clarke's
writing--and I know this sounds terrible--is amazingly un-feminine.
I never would have guessed that the book was written by a woman, as
the language and everything about the story screams dude. And not
a young, modern dude, but an older dude in a time way back when. One
can almost imagine the author lighting his gas lamp and pulling out
his quill to scrawl this epic tale of a magical history that never
existing, creating whole swaths of English time out of whole cloth.
The attention to detail and imagination put into this book is absolutely
staggering. Even if you hate fantasy stuff, her intricate weaving
of an alternate universe is truly impressive. Impressive is an understatement,
really. It's borderline obsessive the way she documents her imagined
history and side stories to cement it (much of which is done in those
darned footnotes). I do admittedly read quite a bit of wah-wah, post-modern
wankery (which I happen to like), but sometimes it's nice to dig into
a real novel that isn't full of lazy plotlines and inner-voices and
build up my traps all at the same time. |