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A review by ghostluvr2000
Piranesi by Susanna Clarke
sosososoosossososoooo fucking good. soo emotional. piranesi seeing the beauty in everything and having the beauty reflected back in him with everything he sees and does. <3 <3 the house as beautiful and ideal because he sees the beauty and idealism <3
my old review from goodreads: piranesi 🥰🥰🥰 'however my hair is a different matter. over the years, as it has grown longer, i have interlaced it with pretty things that i have found or made: seashells, coral beads, pearls, tiny pebbles and interesting fishbones. many of these little ornaments are bright, shiny and have eye-catching colours. all of them rattle when i walk or run. so last week i spent an afternoon extricating them all. it was not easy and sometimes it was painful. i have placed my ornaments in the beautiful box with the octopus on it, which previously contained my shoes. when 16 returns to his own Halls, i shall put them back - i feel oddly naked without them.' piranesi .... when u live in a world that allows u to spend ur days making seaweed broth and writing ur gay little diary entries on all of the halls u visit how on earth did u decide you'd rather come back to the 'real' world?? nothing in the world would have brought me back
my old review from goodreads: piranesi 🥰🥰🥰 'however my hair is a different matter. over the years, as it has grown longer, i have interlaced it with pretty things that i have found or made: seashells, coral beads, pearls, tiny pebbles and interesting fishbones. many of these little ornaments are bright, shiny and have eye-catching colours. all of them rattle when i walk or run. so last week i spent an afternoon extricating them all. it was not easy and sometimes it was painful. i have placed my ornaments in the beautiful box with the octopus on it, which previously contained my shoes. when 16 returns to his own Halls, i shall put them back - i feel oddly naked without them.' piranesi .... when u live in a world that allows u to spend ur days making seaweed broth and writing ur gay little diary entries on all of the halls u visit how on earth did u decide you'd rather come back to the 'real' world?? nothing in the world would have brought me back
i still lowkey stand by it watching piranesi reject his name and his dating system hurt to read (the former obviously more understandable ketterley gave him the name piranesi to mock him) but his return to the other world (our world) was more understandable this time. even with all of the beauty of the house and the life it afforded piranesi i don't think he or i could have managed going back to that existence and being alone again. the first half of the book was being terrified for piranesi because the beauty of the house was being brought into question and i didnt want piranesi's faith in beauty to shatter but the second half was realising, like raphael said, there were just as many crimes in piranesi's world as there are in our world and for piranesi to be able to walk between both and find beauty in both is just as important.
'many things are unknown. once -- it was about six or seven months ago -- i saw a bright yellow speck floating on a gentle tide beneath the fourth western hall. not understanding what it could be, i waded out into the waters and caught it. it was a leaf, very beautiful, with two sides curving to a point at each end. of course it is possible that it was part of a type of sea vegetation i had never seen, but i am doubtful. the texture seemed wrong. its surface repelled water, like something meant to live in air.'
'"you don't think of yourself as matthew rose sorensen?" "no," i said. "but you have his face, she said." "yes." "and his hands." "yes." "and his feet and his body." "all that is true. but i haven't got his mind and i haven't got his memories. i don't mean that he's not here. he is here." i touched my breast. "but i think he's asleep. he's fine. you mustn't worry about him." she nodded. she was not a contentious person as the other had been; she did not argue and contradict everything i said. i liked that about her. "who are you?" she asked. "if you're not him." "i am the beloved child of the house," i said.'
'people were walking up and down the path. an old man passed me. he looked sad and tired. he had broken veins on his cheeks and a bristly white beard. as he screwed up his eyes against the falling snow, i realised i knew him. he is depicted on the northern wall of the forthy-eighth western hall. he is shown as a king with a little model of a walled city in one hand while the other hand he raises in blessing. i wanted to seize hold of him and say: in another world you are a king, noble and good! i have seen it! but i hesitated a moment too long and he disappeared into a crowd'.
'the beauty of the house is immeasurable, its kindness infinite.'