When I heard that Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell
was a Harry Potter for an older audience, I knew I had to read it.
The novel is indeed delightful, boasting a sophistication and depth
that surpasses the work of J.K. Rowling. However, the more I read,
the more I wondered whether fantasy and an older audience are
mutually exclusive. Could the stark realities and insoluble
problems we face past childhood fall under the umbrage of the
fantastic, or is there an inherent quality in growing up that takes
us out of the state of mind of fantasy and magic? In the end,
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell seems more like an elegy than a
fairy tale.

    No matter what genre Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell falls under,
the novel is tremendous. Clarke depicts everything from the English
countryside to the sky in such innovative and captivating detail
that the setting takes on a charm and persona of its own. Trees
sigh under the unbearable lightness of spring, people transform
into slivers of rain, and stars twinkle on an old and whimsical
earth. Heartache is captured in color (being not quite lilac nor
blue nor gray) and enchanted creatures wear gowns of winter mist
and autumn rain. The book transforms into a character itself, an
old friend with a playful wit and an enchanting cadence.
    Clarke's human characters often cannot rival such a consummate mood
and setting. Though spending a great deal of time on enchanted woods
and labyrinthine streets, she speeds by the two people that grace
the novel's name. Mr. Norrell is an understatement of a magician, a
querulous old man one never fully understands. Amidst the backdrop
of the Napoleonic wars, Norrell seeks to revive the forgotten craft
of English magic. The only problem is that he is a bit of a miser,
intimidating all other magicians out of the profession and locking
magical texts up in his private library. Behind Norrell one gets
glimpses of insecurity and fear, yet Clarke gives no hints of the
disappointments and turns that drive his sadness.
    If Norrell is a bit of a mystery, Jonathan Strange is a full blown
conundrum. He is brilliant yet single-minded, caring yet feckless.
Though convivial and charming, he remains shut off from both his
friends and the reader. On account of his magical genius, Strange
soon becomes Norrell's pupil. The two characters begin to part
almost as soon as they come together. While Norrell studies the
magic of the past, Strange searches for magical paths seldom tread,
eventually abandoning all paths. He strives to resurrect the Raven
King, a dark and dangerous figure that first established English
magic.
    This is perhaps where the fantasy ends, for Clarke focuses on the
limitations and repercussions of magic rather than its intrigues
and promises. Leaving the comfortable world of imagination, one is
faced with the uncomfortable question of the purpose behind magic.
The solace and escape one finds in a story where anything is
possible is missing here. Norrell has all the tools of
self-fulfillment at his disposal, yet getting everything he wants
proves to be spiritually and emotionally emaciating. Strange has
everything he needs, yet loses it all to a character that has no
need of him.
    With all the illimitable opportunities set before them, the
characters can't escape the sadness and perplexity of being human.
The poet Lord Byron explains this paradox by comparing Jonathan
Strange to the Raven King: "All his achievements so praised up in
the desolate little isle crumble to dust before him! That will
bring on as fine a bout of despair as you could wish to see. This
is to be mortal, And seek the things beyond immortality" (640).
Perhaps this is where the fantasy returns, or better yet, this is
where reality collides with fiction. After pausing to commit the
last line of his speech to memory (in case he needs to use it in a
later poem) Byron reflects that he would end his life after such
sobering thoughts, were it not for the immense pleasure it would
bring his mother-in-law. Clarke's wit stands behind even the most
tragic parts of the novel, and if one wishes to avoid the many
uncertainties the novel presents, one can certainly get lost in its
sardonic humor.
    

Though not without its imperfections (at a girth of 782 pages,
parts of the novel drag on, parts are tiresome, parts are
repetitive) Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell is a must read for
anyone who has the time to truly enjoy it. "It is the task of the
Book to bear words, . It is the task of the Reader to know what they
say" (773). The real magic of the novel is how much it has to say,
and the subtle and elegant ways in which its words are born.