FictionJohn Segundus, gentleman scholar and magician, has a mission - the revival of English magic. In pursuit of this aim he attends a meeting of a society of magicians who gather in York "upon the third Wednesday of every month and read each other long, dull papers upon the history of English magic".
Enthusiasm for their subject was shared by all, but, this is important, "they were gentleman-magicians, which is to say they had never harmed any one by magic - nor ever done any one the slightest good. In fact, to own the truth, not one of these magicians had ever cast the smallest spell, nor by magic caused one leaf to tremble upon a tree . . . or changed a single hair upon any one's head".
From the opening paragraphs of her dazzling, witty and gleefully entertaining debut, Susanna Clarke casts her own spell for 782 pages of a book you wish would never end.
Billed as a fantasy novel, Jonathan Clarke & Mr Norrell, which took more than a decade to write, is about two rival magicians, magic and the imagination, but is more comic picaresque of country houses, drawing-rooms and distant battlefields than conventional adventure saga. It makes lively use of the facts of early 19th century English social and political history, as well as the ancient legend of the Raven King, without ever becoming pedantic or top heavy.
Among this narrative's several qualities, including pace, sharp characterisation, clever dialogue and more plot twists and turns than a mountain pass, is the graceful formal prose. Clarke is a storyteller blessed with a wry, lightness of touch, a genuine regard for language at its most elegant, natural wordplay and a magpie's feel for the little details that make a narrative come to life. All of which explains why it is a singular book - ideal for readers from seven to 70 and beyond.
There are fairies, but no goblins, or wizards, or witches or monsters. No wands or cauldrons or casual spells. The spells here tend to be as deliberate as miracles. It is all very sophisticated and apparently an acceptable part of the daily life of middle class Regency London.
Clarke does not create the alternative world of Tolkien's profound epic with its gravitas and heroic code of honour, instead the magic is placed firmly at the heart of the culture that has forgotten much of its former self, including its ancient magical tradition.
The text is generously footnoted with fascinating asides and historical digressions. Clarke's major theme is that while many are interested in the history of magic, no one actually practices the lost arts. Tolkien and Mervyn Peake may have informed her not quite Gothic literary imagination, but the closest stylistic influence is none other than the great Charles Dickens, hence the conversational excitement of a narrative voice with a story to tell.
"There are books about magic and books of magic." Magic it appears, at least as far as the early 19th century magician was concerned, was confined to the stuff of theory. Books were read and discussed, the lives and deeds of the great magicians of the past noted, but it was all theoretical research.
That is, until one of the characters, Mr Honeyfoot, puts a question to Gilbert Norrell, a man possessed of a vast library of magic books. "Our question is, sir, why is no more magic done is England?" It proves a question well put, judging by Mr Norrell's reaction. "Mr Norrell's small blue eyes grew harder and brighter and his lips tightened as if he were seeking to suppress a great and secret delight within him. It was as if, thought Mr Segundus, he had waited a long time for someone to ask him this question and had had his answer ready for years. Mr Norrell said, 'I cannot help you with your question, sir, for I do not understand it. It is a wrong question, sir. Magic is not ended in England. I myself am quite a tolerable practical magician'."
His announcement amounts to a challenge. Although Honeyfoot and Segundus are thrilled with having made "the most significant discovery in magical scholarship for three centuries" - that of locating a real life practical magician who is also, of course, a gentleman, the members of the Learned Society of York Magicians prove a begrudging bunch; "the sad fact is that magicians are a peculiarly ungrateful set of men."
When Mr Norrell sets out to demonstrate his powers, he does so in dramatic fashion, choosing the hallowed stones of the great cathedral in York as his theatre. The display with its speaking, moving statutes is remarkable and it exacts a hard price. Each member of the society must henceforth renounce his individual claims to being a magician.
After three decades of living in seclusion in a vast country house, Mr Norrell relocates to London. There the fun starts as this quiet, cranky and secretive little man begins to enter society. Although he tends to frequent the corners of drawing-rooms, Norrell has a plan: he wants to offer magic as a deciding factor in the Napoleonic Wars. Every new star attracts his or her groupies, and Norrell almost immediately falls in the greedy clutches of Drawlight, a party animal and hanger on who works hard at devising a public image for the magician.
Whatever about rumours of talking statues in York Cathedral, Norrell really makes his name when he proposes to revive an influential but impoverished politician's wealthy bride-to-be who has inconveniently died - two days before the wedding. About to be excluded from the dead girl's chamber, Drawlight protests: "Surely such intimate friends as Lascelles and I can be no inconvenience to you . . . I must say that I consider our presence as absolutely essential! For who will broadcast the news of your achievement tomorrow morning if not Lascelles and myself? Who will describe the ineffable grandeur of the moment when your magicianship triumphs and the young woman rises from the dead? Or the unbearable pathos of the moment when you are forced to admit defeat?"
Norrell is not alone. Another magician appears, the affable Jonathan Strange who becomes the pupil of a reluctant master. Their relationship eventually becomes a rivalry and the text becomes darker and more sinister while retaining Clarke's appealing lightness and sense of fun.
A triumph of traditional imaginative storytelling, this is an energetic, engaging and inventive tale that simply kidnaps the lucky reader to participate in a rare experience. Small matter if a book this good weighs more than a kilo.
Eileen Battersby is Literary Correspondent of The Irish Times
Strange & Mr Norrell By Susanna Clarke Bloomsbury, 782pp, £17.99)
