Name: Piranesi
Rating: 4.288135593220339 (59 reviews)
ISBN: 9781526646668

Susanna Clarke

Piranesi

May your Paths be safe, your Floors unbroken and may the House fill your eyes with Beauty.

Larissa Campos

This realisation – the realisation of the Insignificance of the Knowledge – came to me in the form of a Revelation. What I mean by this is that I knew it to be true before I understood why or what steps had led me there.

Perhaps that is what it is like being with other people. Perhaps even people you like and admire immensely can make you see the World in ways you would rather not.

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. If I leave, then the House will have no Inhabitant and how will I bear the thought of it Empty?

Piranesi is the first book in a long while that I have felt almost unable to put down.

Some context on me as a reader, so you can judge whether my opinion applies to you. I read for the 

 first. Story and characters come second. What I love most is being dropped into a strange place and slowly piecing together how it works from fragments: journal entries, small details, things the narrator takes for granted. I especially love when a place feels almost 

, like it has a personality of its own, and when the mystery isn't over-explained. If that sounds like you, you will really enjoy this book.

The House, an endless maze of halls, marble statues, and tides, is the real main character. Every chapter and page keeps you asking new questions and coming up with theories about the nature of the world and the people in it. The book is written as the narrator's own journal, and I'm a sucker for that format. You're never handed an info-dump. You learn the world the way an explorer would, and Clarke trusts you to connect the dots. It scratches the same itch as reading SCP files or exploring a game world through scattered lore.

It's also cozy, which surprised me. This book is like a warm blanket and a cup of tea. The main character is charming and wonderful. He's curious, gentle, and meticulous, a kind of devoted amateur scientist of his own world, and his thought process and personality light up what is otherwise a lonely setting. There's an eerie undercurrent and a slowly building sense that something isn't right, but it never tips into horror. It's the rare book that's relaxing 

 impossible to stop thinking about. I read it as a wind-down-before-bed book and still lay awake theorizing.

If you've ever wanted to wander somewhere impossible and just 

Jarek Erznoznik

Piranesi is the first book in a long while that I have felt almost unable to put down.

Some context on me as a reader, so you can judge whether my opinion applies to you. I read for the world first. Story and characters come second. What I love most is being dropped into a strange place and slowly piecing together how it works from fragments: journal entries, small details, things the narrator takes for granted. I especially love when a place feels almost alive, like it has a personality of its own, and when the mystery isn't over-explained. If that sounds like you, you will really enjoy this book.

The House, an endless maze of halls, marble statues, and tides, is the real main character. Every chapter and page keeps you asking new questions and coming up with theories about the nature of the world and the people in it. The book is written as the narrator's own journal, and I'm a sucker for that format. You're never handed an info-dump. You learn the world the way an explorer would, and Clarke trusts you to connect the dots. It scratches the same itch as reading SCP files or exploring a game world through scattered lore.

It's also cozy, which surprised me. This book is like a warm blanket and a cup of tea. The main character is charming and wonderful. He's curious, gentle, and meticulous, a kind of devoted amateur scientist of his own world, and his thought process and personality light up what is otherwise a lonely setting. There's an eerie undercurrent and a slowly building sense that something isn't right, but it never tips into horror. It's the rare book that's relaxing and impossible to stop thinking about. I read it as a wind-down-before-bed book and still lay awake theorizing.

You'll probably love it if:

You care more about where a story happens than what happens.

You enjoy mysteries you solve by paying attention rather than having them spelled out.

You like gentle, quiet books with a sense of wonder, in the spirit of A Psalm for the Wild-Built, Studio Ghibli films, or liminal-space and "found journal" stories.

You like a narrator whose perspective you slowly realize you can't fully trust.

It's probably not for you if:

You'll be bored by long, lingering descriptions of a world filled with marble statues and water.

You need a strong, character-focused story with lots of dialogue, relationships, or action. If so, you will be disappointed.

You want a fast plot. This book takes its time, and the payoff is in the discovery, not the pace.

If you've ever wanted to wander somewhere impossible and just look, read this book.

ikkychan

In The Matrix by the Wachowskis, humanity lives under a perpetual, mechanically induced slumber while their consciousness is sustained in a virtual simulation. Despite how well-maintained and error-proofed the system is, some characters like Neo manage to slip through the cracks and regain awareness of the falsehood of their reality. To help them unplug themselves from the cradle, Morpheus offers them two options: a blue pill and a red pill. If you choose the blue pill, you remain within the simulation, continuing on with your daily life as before. But if you choose the red one, you will wake up and decide to see the truth for yourself. We are all familiar with Neo’s choice. He takes the red pill because of his unshakable need to know what is real—a commitment to truth, freedom, and authenticity, even at the cost of comfort and safety. It is a choice for agency over passive acceptance. But what about those who wake up and find that the truth is too much for them to bear? What happens when someone glimpses reality and still longs to return to the illusion? 
 Piranesi
 by Susanna Clarke opens in a strange, dreamlike realm that immediately unsettles the reader’s sense of reality. It is a vast House made of endless halls and corridors, its lower floors periodically flooded by ocean tides. Statues line the walls by the thousands, and sea birds drift through the upper galleries. The House seems both monumental and impossible, a space where the boundaries between interior and exterior dissolve until it becomes difficult to determine where the world begins or ends. For the reader, the unreality of the setting is easy enough to recognize. We instinctively measure it against our own world and conclude that such a place cannot exist. Yet Piranesi does not possess that point of comparison. As far as he knows, the House is the only world that has ever existed. Since the moment he became aware of himself, Piranesi has lived within its halls. He spends his days carefully exploring the labyrinthine corridors, mapping statues and counting tides. He survives by fishing and gathering seaweed, sleeps on sand and stone beneath the watchful gaze of marble figures, and speaks to birds and the skeletal remains of previous inhabitants to ease his solitude. For him, the House is not strange or uncanny; it is simply the natural order of things. Yet the House possesses the unsettling logic of a dream. Everything in it carries a strange familiarity, as if it were drawn from fragments of the real world but rearranged into something slightly off. Like many dreams, it feels meaningful even when its meaning is impossible to articulate. The longer one inhabits such a place, the easier it becomes to accept its rules without question. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the boundaries between reality and imagination begin to erode. This is what happens to Piranesi. Over time, small inconsistencies begin to reveal themselves, suggesting that the world he has always trusted may conceal deeper truths. The barren halls and silent statues that once felt eternal start to hint at a hidden history. In this sense, Piranesi’s awakening resembles the symbolism of the Tower card in tarot. The Tower represents sudden upheaval: the violent collapse of a structure that once seemed permanent. Its destruction is frightening precisely because it shatters the foundations upon which one’s worldview is built. Yet the Tower is not merely a symbol of catastrophe. At its core, it represents transformation. When the structures that once supported us prove false, they must fall so that something more truthful can take their place. The process is painful, but it is also necessary. Without destruction, there can be no renewal. This is part of what makes Piranesi such a fascinating and entrancing novel. Through Piranesi’s perspective, the reader experiences the unsettling process of having one’s certainties dismantled piece by piece. The story asks what it means to realize that the person you have trusted most in the world is not a guardian but a manipulator, and that the life you believed to be natural was carefully constructed to keep you obedient. For Piranesi, the Other—later revealed as Dr. Valentine Ketterley—occupies an almost paternal role. He provides Piranesi with clothing, tools, and the occasional book. More importantly, he gives him a sense of purpose by involving him in what he describes as scientific research into the mysteries of the House. Older, more knowledgeable, and seemingly confident, Ketterley becomes Piranesi’s primary source of information about the world. At first glance, his actions appear generous, even benevolent. Yet subtle signs of deception are present from the beginning. Ketterley routinely withholds information, dismisses Piranesi’s questions, or redirects the conversation whenever it approaches dangerous territory. He frequently infantilizes Piranesi, treating his curiosity with thinly veiled condescension. The imbalance of knowledge between them is not accidental; it is a tool Ketterley wields to maintain control. Once Piranesi begins to recognize the truth of their relationship, the emotional consequences are devastating. The realization that he has been manipulated shatters the foundations of his identity. Anger, grief, and confusion collide as he confronts the collapse of everything he once believed. In many ways, this moment represents the true fall of the Tower—the destruction not only of his understanding of the House but of his understanding of himself. Yet from these ruins, something new begins to emerge. Forced to question everything he once accepted without hesitation, Piranesi gradually develops a sense of independence. For the first time, he begins to think and decide for himself rather than relying on Ketterley’s authority. The painful dismantling of illusion becomes the first step toward genuine agency. However, by the words of the wise Uncle Ben, “With great power comes great responsibility”; awakening carries its own complications. With the help of Raphael, Piranesi eventually discovers traces of the life he once lived before entering the House. That life belonged to a young man named Matthew Rose Sorensen. When Raphael tells him about the family that has been searching for him, Piranesi responds with quiet detachment: <blockquote>“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said. “I don’t know if you remember this, but you have a mum and a dad. And two sisters. And friends.” … “I’m sorry that Matthew Rose Sorensen’s mum and dad and sisters and friends feel pain,” I said. “But I don’t really see what it has to do with me.” “You don’t think of yourself as Matthew Rose Sorensen?” “No,” I said.</blockquote> Piranesi’s response reveals the depth of his transformation. Although he possesses Matthew’s body, he no longer recognizes himself as that person. The memories, experiences, and emotional attachments that once defined Matthew have vanished. What remains is someone entirely different. Because of this, the novel’s ending carries a bittersweet ambiguity. One possible reading is that Piranesi ultimately retreats from reality, choosing the comforting illusion of the House over the unfamiliar world beyond it. The real world overwhelms him with noise, strangers, and expectations that feel alien to the person he has become. Faced with this disorientation, it is tempting to see his attachment to the House as a form of escapism—a decision to return to a more comprehensible existence. Clarke beautifully illustrates this tension in a passage where the ordinary city begins to resemble the House in Piranesi’s mind: <blockquote>“This afternoon I walked through the city… The low clouds made a grey ceiling for the city; the snow muffled the noise of the cars until it became almost rhythmical; a steady, shushing noise, like the sound of tides beating endlessly on marble walls… I wanted to seize hold of him and say to him: In another world you are a king, noble and good! I have seen it!”</blockquote> Even in the midst of the modern city, Piranesi cannot help translating everything he sees into the language of the House. The statues, the tides, the endless halls remain the framework through which he interprets the world. Yet his attachment to the House can also be understood differently. Rather than a surrender to illusion, it may simply be the place where he feels most fully himself. The House is where he learned patience, curiosity, and reverence for beauty. It is where he formed the identity that now defines him. In that sense, returning to the House is less about rejecting reality than about acknowledging where he belongs. <blockquote> “In my mind are all the tides, their seasons, their ebbs and their flows. In my mind are all the halls, the endless procession of them… When this world becomes too much for me… I imagine I am walking the path from the vestibule to the hall.”</blockquote> Eventually, each of us settles into the world that feels most like home, even if that world might appear strange or incomprehensible to others. In the end, Piranesi complicates the neat moral clarity of the red pill and the blue pill. Stories like The Matrix suggest that awakening from illusion is always the correct choice, that truth is inherently superior to comfort. Clarke’s novel offers a more nuanced perspective. Breaking free from a false reality does not automatically tell us where we belong afterward. Even after discovering the truth of Matthew Rose Sorensen’s past, the House continues to live within Piranesi’s mind, its halls and tides mapped into his memory. When he reflects that “The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite,” the statement no longer reads as naïve devotion to an illusion. Instead, it reveals something quieter and more complicated: sometimes the worlds that once imprisoned us also shape the people we become, and leaving them behind completely may be impossible. P.S.: One aspect of Piranesi that I especially enjoyed is the careful way Clarke weaves symbolism into the story. Because Piranesi lacks any knowledge of conventional calendars, he invents his own dating system, naming each year after the most significant event that occurs at its beginning. In the year when the events of the narrative take place, he marks it by the appearance of an albatross—a rare visitor to the House—which flies in from the ocean and settles along the coast where he lives. The choice of an albatross feels particularly deliberate. For centuries, these birds have accompanied sailors across vast stretches of sea and are often taken as a sign that land is near. Their presence in maritime lore is associated with navigation, guidance, and the shifting of winds that carry ships toward their destination. In that sense, the albatross quietly signals that Piranesi’s long wandering within the House is approaching a turning point, that he is nearing the edge of a different world. Clarke doubles down this symbolism of guidance through the introduction of Raphael, the detective investigating the disappearance of Matthew Rose Sorensen. The name itself is unlikely to be accidental. In the Book of Tobit, the archangel Raphael serves as a guide and healer: he leads Tobias safely through his journey, drives away a demon, and ultimately cures Tobit’s blindness. Raphael fulfills a remarkably similar role in Piranesi. She guides Piranesi toward the truth of his past, helps him break free from the manipulative influence of Dr. Ketterley, and restores his ability to see the reality that had been hidden from him. During a book club discussion, another interpretation also emerged that I found intriguing. One member suggested that the House could be read as a metaphor for substance addiction. The comparison becomes especially striking in the case of James Ritter, who is discovered chained and severely malnourished inside a hidden compartment in Laurence Arne-Sayles’s house, deliriously obsessed with visions of the House. His condition echoes the compulsive fixation often associated with addiction. Viewed through this lens, several elements of the novel begin to align in unexpected ways. The “Ritual” required to pass between worlds resembles the collective hallucinations reported in certain psychedelic ceremonies, such as Ayahuasca rituals. Piranesi’s gradual loss of his former identity as Matthew Rose Sorensen parallels the way addiction can reshape a person’s sense of self over time. Even after being rescued, James Ritter remains haunted by his memories of the House, unable to fully detach from it—much like an addict who continues to long for the substance that once consumed them. If the House can be interpreted this way, then the human remains scattered throughout its halls—the Biscuit-Box Man, the Concealed Person, the People of the Alcove, and the Folded-Up Child—take on an even darker implication. They may represent those who entered the House before and never found their way back, the silent remnants of lives that were gradually consumed by the very world that once enthralled them.

Im not sure I understand what I read. I do know I couldn’t put the book down. 

Manny

Ashley Denktas

This book was a strong 4 star, soft 5 star for me. But I have been thinking about it non-stop since finishing it. Its literally made me want to sit down and write an essay about the possible meanings for everything in the book like I was in my high school AP lit class again (shout out Mrs. Harbour - you do not know how much of a profound impact your class had on me as a human being). I will say that I fully don't know what Clarke was trying to articulate in this book. I do think it was very clever. Without going into a full blown essay in this review I think my top takes and likes from this book were: 1. The theme of enjoying something for the sake of enjoyment/ loving how it simply is. Why is this house so big and why are these statues that showcase so many different parts of the human experience? You will never know- and that’s fine. Piranesi himself says that it’s fine- just enjoy it how it is - you don’t need to have some deeper meaning to enjoy it. He also “allegedly” had said to stop the pursuit of knowledge multiple times (I doubt or at least if he did he did so in another manner- like I don’t wanna be here and do your bidding before he forgot). He is a child of the house and is content in enjoying the beauty (and the roses if you will)- even enjoying the walk when he’s finally free. 2. I really liked the statues being interpreted as like lingering of the the past and knowledge. You will never ever know it first hand since it’s in the past but it leaves its mark. You can try to learn from it (and can) but part of it will always forgotten or truly not understood since it’s not a first hand account/ time passing makes it hard to remember. Humans also are so obsessed with progress that things in the past do get cast aside for “advancements” when you can appreciate how it was done in the past without saying it was bad or primitive. I think Ketterley was also the personification of that and a foil. (Ketterley was in the pursuit of knowledge - so maybe foil here isn't the right word - but I do think he had a different reverence and more malicious intent than Piranesi). 3. It was interesting at the end, Piranesi thought of himself as a third person- because imo he is still the person he was in the house just now a wider perspective since he no longer lives in “a cave” (imo I couldn’t stop thinking about the cave analogy - his shadows are the statues). He seems to believe identity is tied to where you are, whereas I believe it grows and transcends. He is a different person when he leaves the house, and he also is not the same person he was before he forgot who he was. But to believe he is a third person… I’m not sure I fully agree. Identity is tied to place, but I don’t think you lose that fully when you leave or are displaced. Like the forgotten knowledge it still lives with him. But then again he has a new perspective that makes it hard to have the views he had before. But to say his former self is dead I think is wrong since he still understands that perspective. (HOWEVER, take this with a grain of salt because I know that many people would argue otherwise/ I don't have a life experience that makes me feel this way - I just feel that you can't erase what you experienced in said place if you are no longer there - it is apart of you unless you literally forget everything as Piranesi did in his first life.) 4. The introduction of Raphael was really interesting. I looked up that Raphael was the angel of the travelers and mercy. Seeing it in that view was really interesting- also that she also kept wanting to go back- and perhaps also forget for a time the struggles of life. The view he paints of her being like the two different statues was one of my favorite parts of the book, showcasing how knowledge can change over time and how it impacts a person. 5. I think there also had to be some symbolic meaning for the 12 dead (12 apostles?) but we go up to 16 people so I forget if the starting number was 12/13? but I mean Ketterley is he is in that count betrayed him from the very beginning. 6. It’s also jarring how even in the before - Piranesi’s character was so… innocent? Maybe is the best word- but he trusts everyone no matter which identity he is in. When Ketterley asks if he came alone I think any sane person would have immediately ran- but he doesn’t? Maybe there’s some thing about him being a man therefore maybe not feeling as in danger- but I think again and sane person would have an alarm bells blaring. It was interesting to me that Piranesi always defaults to trust. Maybe humans always do that- and in their purest form they do (him living in the house) but they pay a price to live in that state? 7. I love at the end how he appreciates life as it is around him - and sees connections in people to the statues. We are patterns of the past. He also sees these lanterns as the day is approaching evening lighting up the world ever so brightly in the snow. It made me realize he sees the world in a different form (snow now solid and perhaps more real) than the water filled house. Yet he appreciates it even if he is less naive and sees there are bad things that can happen in the world. I might be going too far into English teacher mode but this book has really made me think and I really appreciate that.

Neha Lama Tamang

4.25/5 It was surely weird but in the most mesmerizing way. It truly was a strange good story.

M. Sosotris

This book floored me. Thoughtful, gorgeous, and incredibly thought-provoking. I loved the complex puzzle-box mystery and the emotional core of the story. A real work of art and of of my favourite reads of the year!

Estava sentindo falta de acabar um livro em dois dias, o dormir e acordar pensando na história—nesse caso, em outro mundo. Não sou a maior fã de fantasia, na maioria das vezes não me apetece como esse o fez, me senti dentro da história e sinto que será parte de mim para sempre. Sinto que durante esses dois dias pude viver no outro mundo, em silêncio no meio das ondas, corredores e estátuas. Gostaria de ter vivido por lá por mais tempo, a única parte que me incomoda é o quão curta foi a experiência 

Dyslexia-Friendly Edition using sans serif font printed with blue ink on cream paper. Winner of the 2021 Women's Prize for Fiction A SUNDAY TIMES & NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER The spectacular new novel from the bestselling author of JONATHAN STRANGE & MR NORRELL, 'one of our greatest living authors' NEW YORK MAGAZINE __________________________________ Piranesi lives in the House. Perhaps he always has. In his notebooks, day after day, he makes a clear and careful record of its wonders: the labyrinth of halls, the thousands upon thousands of statues, the tides that thunder up staircases, the clouds that move in slow procession through the upper halls. On Tuesdays and Fridays Piranesi sees his friend, the Other. At other times he brings tributes of food to the Dead. But mostly, he is alone. Messages begin to appear, scratched out in chalk on the pavements. There is someone new in the House. But who are they and what do they want? Are they a friend or do they bring destruction and madness as the Other claims? Lost texts must be found; secrets must be uncovered. The world that Piranesi thought he knew is becoming strange and dangerous. The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite. __________________________________ 'What a world Susanna Clarke conjures into being ... Piranesi is an exquisite puzzle-box' DAVID MITCHELL 'It subverts expectations throughout ... Utterly otherworldly' GUARDIAN 'Piranesi astonished me. It is a miraculous and luminous feat of storytelling' MADELINE MILLER 'Brilliantly singular' SUNDAY TIMES 'A gorgeous, spellbinding mystery ... This book is a treasure, washed up upon a forgotten shore, waiting to be discovered' ERIN MORGENSTERN 'Head-spinning ... Fully imagined and richly evoked' TELEGRAPH

Dyslexia Friendly Edition

Aida Mateescu

I don’t like how this book makes me feel while I’m reading it, but that’s exactly why I’m drawn to it. It makes me feel as if I’m trapped inside a strange, unfamiliar realm, with no sense of direction and no understanding of what’s happening, and it drives me insane.

The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.

Surprisingly, this is such a fun and easy read for me and I really fancy the writing style of this book. By the set of we are reading Piranesi's notes, it really show all of him and diving into his wonder, innocence, and his peculiar story in The House, the labyrinth.

And Oh, how I just love Piranesi, him and how kindhearted and soft he is. I can't stop but smiling reading at him go.

It such a delightful read and at the same time as the story shifted and uncovered it give me such a mind-bending experience, at certain point I got so engrossed I did not know what or who to believe and feels that I too might be driven mad as well. Could say this book really did a great job in combining dazzling fantasy and mystery element in it.

The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.

Surprisingly, this is such a fun and easy read for me and I really fancy the writing style of this book. By the set of we are reading Piranesi's notes, it really show all of him and diving into his wonder, innocence, and his peculiar story in The House, the labyrinth.

And Oh, how I just love Piranesi, him and how kindhearted and soft he is. I can't stop but smiling reading at him go.

It such a delightful read and at the same time as the story shifted and uncovered it give me such a mind-bending experience, at certain point I got so engrossed I did not know what or who to believe and feels that I too might be driven mad as well. Could say this book really did a great job in combining dazzling fantasy and mystery element in it.

I think I’d rate this higher after a reread or some more time to reflect. I will say this book inspired me to create an “atmospheric nostalgia” playlist and I did thoroughly enjoy the setting but not necessarily the plot.

Jas 🐸

Intriguing! I really enjoyed this as my first book of the year. 

Rebecca Fox-Kealy

I really liked Piranesi. I loved the idea of this house and the statues. It reminded me of Plato’s story and I thought that made it really smart. Especially how the longer he stayed in the House he would lose his memory and think that that’s the world and how the statues were the image of the real things. Also I found it interesting that there was some mystery in it and it made it really intriguing and easy to read for me. I would totally recommend it, it gave me a great vibe💜

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

i will never stop thinking about this. this might be THE book of the year for me. 

marie

Beautifully written. And the story spectacularly holds up, through surprises and all - brilliant, original and entrancing.

Beatrix

Beautifully written. And the story spectacularly holds up, through surprises and all - brilliant, original and entrancing.

- mum’s comments: It is so generous - no vengeance, spite, despair - despite it all, he has such a kind disposition, such space and capacity for reflection, gifting the benefit of the doubt, and his own very methodological processing.

Piranesi

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