The Books That Moved Me (Vol.1)

I, like most writers, have read a lot of books. But there are few five star reads in my back catalogue. Very rarely as both a reader and a book reviewer have I dished out the ultimate accolade. That's not to say that there aren't a lot of wonderful books out there, because there are. But to really earn a five star review, for me, it has to move me.

So, what might that entail, moving me? Well, there are a variety of factors to consider.

I might recognise myself in the character.

I might not recognise myself in the character(s) but they provoke a reaction in me, good or bad.

It might be awfully sad and make me blub uncontrollably.

It might inspire me to be better, do better.

It might make me laugh out loud.

It might make me reflect on aspects of my life.

It might blow me away with its imaginative setting.

Its plot might be so tight that I don't want leave it, not even for meals, and if I do, I need to get back to it, like an itch that has to be scratched.

It might surprise me with its twists and turns and be entirely unpredictable.

Its lyrical quality, its writing, might inspire me through description or syntax or imagery.

It might just be unlike anything I have ever read before.

It might induce writers' envy and make me think, "I wish I'd thought of this."

It might give me a bad feeling like disgust or it might creep me out and give me imagination flashbacks, a visceral reaction.

It might be full of love, love that fills your heart with joy at its very imagining.

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It's difficult to highlight exactly why a book remains with you as it does. It might have all of these things - it might have some of these things. It might even only have one of these things. But whatever combination or otherwise, it will have struck me. Literally.

All those things said, trying to think back to a book that changed me is incredibly difficult. And the reason for this is that I think that every book that you encounter changes you a little.

I don't mean to sound fatuous but I genuinely think this. The amount that they affect you may differ from text to text, but reading something by someone else means that you have experienced it in your individual way and whilst it may not have provoked a strong reaction from you for whatever reason, it will have left an impression, or if not, a tiny dent or scratch.

If that theory holds, then I have been moulded and crafted by every book I have read, to a greater or lesser extent, which has got to be in the thousands now. So to pick one of those is going to be tricky.

But for this exercise, I am going to try and, as I have listed other ways that books have affected me, I am, for future book club stories, going to think of examples in all those categories where my reading experience has left me "five starred".

For this one though, "blowing me away with an imaginative setting", I am going to pick one that I read back in September 2021 and that is Piranesi by Susanna Clarke.

Firstly, the cover. They say, you should never judge a book by its cover and to this, I say, balderdash. In order for you to be enticed to read, the cover has to have a certain something and this should never be underestimated as the first impression that a potential reader will get of your book. For me, it would be better to change this adage to:

Never judge the content of a book by its cover.

In my experience, if a cover looks pretty crap, ill-conceived, like it's been thrown together with not a lot of thought to graphics and font, chances are the content will not be great neither. This does not always hold but 9 times out of 10, it does.

So, Piranesi. The cover grabbed me. Simple as that.

I'd tried to read Susanna Clarke before. She wrote Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, not only a bestseller but one critically acclaimed, and I attempted to read it some years ago and had to abandon it because it was so bloody tedious. I visualise my reading of it like using a flint to light a fire - there were sparks but the fire never got going. I persevered, desperate for it to capture me but it never did and so, I gave up. I don't regret it. However, it did mean that I viewed fiction by Clarke with a fair degree of wariness and the high possibility of being disappointed.

But despite this, something about the cover made me overcome that hesitancy. A satyr playing an instrument on the top of a column.

It had lots of things that appealed. Firstly, the mythical creature in isolation. Secondly, the pillar. Thirdly, the waves beneath the pillar. And the font's old style lettering hinted at something - time worn, faded but formal? The whole ensemble intrigued. Was this figure Piranesi?

When I started reading it, it was initially a puzzle. You are trying to glean exactly what is going on as Piranesi inhabits a world away from others and is on his own except for visits from someone who he calls the Other. The Other brings elements of the modern world which we as readers know and so the two are juxtaposed in the narrative and create curiosity. Who is the Other? How does he get into Piranesi's world? How does he leave Piranesi's world?

I could continue to tell you more about what happens but this is all about the setting. The book is set in a strange other world called the House which I visualised like a grand open Greek temple, white and marblesque but falling into disrepair. It is full of statues, varied in size and what they depict and there are creatures of imagination here, as well as the more recognisably human and animal. Piranesi has favourites and this accentuates his loneliness. The House is open and near the sea as it is regularly washed by tides, sometimes dangerously so but Piranesi has attuned himself to these. He has mapped the house and it is vast - fall of what Piranesi names Halls, all of which he has catalogued. To the reader, it would seem to be an austere, cold place, the only inhabitants being birds and the statues that adorn the Halls.

But what a place! Classical to give it that air of ancient; statues to create a sense of it being a gallery or a museum; vastness to make Piranesi seem brave in its expanse of white coldness; the tides coming in and eroding it and creating more questions - is it on an island? Is it sinking, like Atlantis? There's so much evoked by the House.

Now, I wouldn't want to have to inhabit it but I would like to visit it.

Sometimes, you read a book and it creates a yearning in you for something that is presented in it that is palpable. Could be a character - think Twlight. Could be a life - think Harry Potter and magic, not Voldemort. For me, in Piranesi, this was the House. I wanted to see it with my own eyes. As I am writing this, I can see it in my mind's eye, how I imagine it, and I want to walk it, looking around in wonder. Similar to when you see pictures on Instagram and think, "That looks fab. I wish I could travel there."

Only, with the House, my remembrance of it from my reading is as close as I am ever going to get.

I am wowed by Clarke's vision. Her evocation of place is powerful and so imaginative that it left me stunned. And it has stayed with me ever since.

So, the setting is important. Piranesi is a great book beyond that and there is so much that is unique about it that I would really recommend that you experience it for yourself. The way it develops from Piranesi's narrow awareness into a wider understanding of how he comes to be there and how that is significant is masterful: puzzling at first and you have to bear with it in the early stages and go with the flow and enjoy the befuddlement. But then, as Clarke drops hints throughout, you comprehend more and more and need to find out how this will all end for Piranesi.

But for me, what makes this stand alone is the world that Clarke has envisioned and then shared with us in her ability to transpose the product of her imagination into words.

It is just wonderful. Read it and see.