As I was walking down the stairs
I met a man who wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there again today,
O how I
wish he’d go away.
This childish and haunting rhyme derives from the same skewed reality that forms the para-historical basis of Clarke’s novel.
The novel depicts Regency England, spanning the years 1806 – 1817, in the midst of hostilities against the French. English magic has been reduced to the dry and scholarly study (theoretical only) of a steadfast canon of past magicians. Into this desiccated arena emerges first one practical
magician (Mr Norrell) and then another (Jonathan Strange), who perform astounding spectacles of magic, deeply unsettling the edifice of conservative English magic.
The narrative follows their alliances and rivalries against the immediate backdrop of political and military manoeuvrings, and the more shadowy hinterland of a further-distant English
history, described in riddles and populated with mythic forests, darkly mischievous fairy folk and mysterious pathways ending in mirrors.
It is recognizable as Regency England, in its portrayal of the upper echelons of the social hierarchy, the cut and thrust of Napoleonic War, complete with period language and spellings (hyphenated, single-capital street names such as ‘Hanover-square’; ‘chusing’; the peppered use of –ize verbs
) and stylistic nods to Austen, character nods to Dickens. (Vinculus, for instance, both in his description as vagrant street-magician, and in the convoluted plot-value assigned to him, is notably Dickensian.)
Recognizable it is, though, only to twist away from history into para-history, as England’s politicians and military strategists employ the services of magic in the struggle against Napoleon, as the madness of George III is developed through the agency of the mysterious gentleman with thistle-down hair, as the turns of English mediaeval history are revealed effected by the machinations of the Daoine Sidhe, or Fairy Folk, and in particular the central character of the magician Raven King, John Uskglass.
Clarke has a talent for splicing reality and its mirror-image, frequently permitting seamless, and thus disconcerting, passage between the two for the reader. This is encouraged by the intriguing and widespread use of footnotes, lending ostensible documentary and literary authenticity as well as providing a gloss on the points of view of certain characters such as John Segundus. (It is interesting to study the footnotes deriving from his writings, and thus consider his role in the story.)
Characterization is ably handled, with the two main characters both exuding the arrogance one might expect, but in distinct ways; Mr Norrell finding comfort in exclusion, Strange opting more for flamboyance and publicity. The character of Childermass is, possibly, the most interesting. The quiet, able companion to Mr Norrell has motives which are entirely his own and a name which stimulates an ambivalent response: the associations I sensed included a shiver left over from meta-sofa childhood viewing of the Quatermass TV series, as well as ‘chilled’ and an ironic sprinkling of ‘Christmas’ and ‘child’ to boot!
Every now and again, Clarke’s prose maybe tries a little too hard to portray the period, and just occasionally the narrative makes itself a little too obvious, as if it can’t quite trust the reader. These minor points aside, however, the novel is ambitious in its scope, but rises to its own aspirations. It is an enjoyable read, not least in its unsettlement for the reader who wonders whom to trust…