Wizardry in the U.K.: Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell

Review by Bruce Collier February 24, 2005 Issue

The British Isles have an affinity for magic and the supernatural. England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales each have their own homegrown legends of sorcerers, fairies, and assorted supernatural folk. Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell attempts to weave some of this material together into an entertaining tale of love, history, class and manners. Mostly, she succeeds.

British-born Clarke has a background in teaching and in non-fiction publishing. She has published several short stories and novellas. Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell is her first full-length novel. It is lengthy—782 pages—and, like some other first novels, seems to run off in all directions at once. Clarke’s style is reminiscent of Austen, Dickens, and Thackeray. It may also remind you of Tolkien and J.K. Rowling.

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell begins in England in 1806, and ends there in 1817. The events of the intervening 11 years take the characters all over England, then to Portugal, Spain, Belgium, and Italy. If you know your European history, you know that this was the time of the Napoleonic Wars. The French emperor plays a brief, antagonistic role in the destinies of the title characters. Other real-life characters include the Duke of Wellington, King George III, the Prince Regent (later George IV), and Lord Byron.

The novel opens with a question, posed by a group of “gentleman magicians,” namely “why is there no more magic done in England?” These men are not practitioners, magic being not entirely a respectable calling, but they are keen historians of the subject. Their answer comes in the form of the mysterious Mr. Norrell, possessor of perhaps the largest library of magical books in the world. Norrell dramatically demonstrates his magical powers. News of his feat spreads all over England, finally reaching the ears of Jonathan Strange. Though a neophyte, Strange is a quick learner. Norrell takes him on as an apprentice, and soon the two are not only equals, but also rivals, in magic.

Magic becomes all the rage in England, and Strange and Norrell find themselves as celebrated as modern day rock stars. Faced with the prospect of a French invasion any day, the British government enlists the two in various schemes involving “protective magic.” Strange is happy to oblige, volunteering to serve as Wellington’s staff magician in Portugal and Spain. He assists Wellington in defeating the French in Spain, and plays a major role in the Duke’s final victory over Napoleon at Waterloo.

History aside, the principal conflict in the story involves two women: Strange’s wife Arabella and a Lady Pole. Both have been enchanted into the land of the fairies, and Strange has resolved to save them. Another character, an African ex-slave named Stephen Black, also struggles to free himself from the clutches of a malevolent fairy king. By the end of the book, the story has become a tale of rescue and escape for the three.

Clarke relates all this in an erudite, informal style, treating the reader as an intimate companion (here is Dickens), making the occasional arch observation (here is Austen), and juggling a host of major and minor characters with dexterity (here is Thackeray). Still, the narrative bogs down a little in the middle, and I wondered whether Clarke herself knew where all this was going at all times.

Her theme seems to be a traditional one—be careful when meddling with unknown powers— but it’s not clear whether she agrees with this warning. Moving in and out of the story is a shadowy figure, that of John Uskglass, a.k.a. the Raven King. According to legend, the Raven King was a powerful magician who ruled the north of medieval England for three centuries. He left one day, and many old-timers in the north still pray for his return. Clarke is from Nottingham, so presumably she knows whereof she speaks.

I thought I detected a touch of political comment in Clarke’s portrayal of the British government. His Majesty’s ministers come to think of Strange and Norrell as an inexhaustible source of magical war machines and defense systems. In a way, the Raven King’s reign comes to symbolize a sort of pre-industrial paradise, a rule by a “natural” man, rather than by military and commercial might. That might be my imagination, but first novels are often full of all manner of leads and undeveloped ideas. The end of the book, basically a happy one, leaves ample room for a sequel, and there are enough interesting minor characters for a dozen spin-offs.

Magical/fantasy fiction is a popular and ever-expanding genre of literature. Clarke has staked a substantial claim to her own corner of it with this impressive, ambitious debut.

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, Bloomsbury, 782 pages, available online and local booksellers and libraries.

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