In 2004, Susanna Clarke published Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, a 1,000-page alternate history of magic. Fans waited 16 years for her next novel. When Piranesi arrived in 2020, it was shockingly different: a short, 245-page fever dream of a book.
Between 1749 and 1760, Piranesi published the "Carceri d’Invenzione" (Imaginary Prisons). If his Rome prints were dramatic, the Carceri were psychotic.
These 14 (later 16) plates depict vast, windowless interiors filled with colossal machinery: wooden gantries, swinging rope bridges, hidden pulleys, and spiked torture wheels. The perspective is deliberately broken. Your eye climbs a staircase, only to find it ends in a blank wall two feet above. A bridge spans a chasm, but the chasm is actually an archway leading to another, darker chasm.
There are no prisoners visible in most of the plates—only the suggestion of suffering. The space itself is the tormentor. Art historians argue that the Carceri represent the Enlightenment’s anxiety about rational systems gone mad. But horror fans see something else: the blueprint for a nightmare. Piranesi
H.P. Lovecraft kept a copy of Piranesi's Carceri on his desk. The prison imagery directly inspired the labyrinthine geometry of the Cthulhu Mythos. Jorge Luis Borges wrote an essay marveling at how Piranesi created a universe where space has no memory, and every hallway is identical to the last. Without Piranesi, the dystopian architecture of Metropolis, Blade Runner, and even the Ministry of Magic in Harry Potter would look very different.
In an age of algorithmic social media and sterile, glass-box architecture, why does a man who drew ruins and prisons 250 years ago suddenly feel so relevant?
Piranesi offers us mystery. His worlds are deliberately inefficient. They have dead ends. They have stairs that go nowhere. In a culture obsessed with optimization and speed, looking at a Piranesi print forces your eye to slow down, get lost, and accept that you may never find the exit. In 2004, Susanna Clarke published Jonathan Strange &
Furthermore, Piranesi (both the artist and the character) is an archivist of the abandoned. He finds beauty in broken columns and forgotten statues. In a climate-conscious era worried about the collapse of our own monuments, Piranesi teaches us that decay is not an ending; it is a new beginning of aesthetic wonder.
Before we step into the Halls of the House, we must visit the damp, shadowy studios of 18th-century Rome.
Title: Piranesi Author: Susanna Clarke Genre: Fantasy / Speculative Fiction Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing Publication Year: 2020 Awards: Women's Prize for Fiction (2021), Kiteways (2021) The protagonist, Piranesi, lives a solitary but contented
The protagonist, Piranesi, lives a solitary but contented life. He believes there are only fifteen people in the world, all of whom are dead except for himself and "the Other." The Other is a scientist who visits Piranesi twice a week, seeking knowledge of a "Great and Secret Knowledge" to harness the House's power.
Piranesi dutifully aids the Other, keeping detailed journals of the tides and the statues. However, he begins to experience "waking dreams"—flashes of memory involving modern technology and clothing that contradict his reality.
The turning point occurs when Piranesi finds a message written in chalk warning him that the Other is a liar. Eventually, a new person arrives, whom Piranesi calls "16." Through his interactions with 16, Piranesi learns the truth: the Other is a magician named Andrew Ketterley, who trapped Piranesi in this other dimension to steal his knowledge. Piranesi is actually Matthew Rose Sorensen, a modern journalist who went missing years prior.
The climax involves a confrontation with the Other (who uses dark magic to control the dead) and a rescue mission led by Matthew’s former colleague. The novel concludes with Matthew’s return to the "Real World," though he retains a deep connection to the House and the world of spirits.
