Far too infrequently a book comes along that offers something both highly original and is well executed. In the field of fantasy/sci-fi/horror this is particularly true. For every Peter Straub or Frank Herbert there are a thousand Simon Clarkes and Shaun Hustons.
Jonathan Strange… is one of those books that offers something unlike anything else. In terms of style its most similar to Dickens or maybe Jane Austen, in terms of its genre its maybe closest to my other favourite ‘what if’ books, the Flashman series.
I’m not going to tell you anything about the plot as its something best discovered by a reader for themselves but rest assured that this is no Harry Potter borefest, its a traditional English story of magic, best read when there’s a snow storm howling outside and you’re curled up in your favourite chair with the TV off.
The book meanders around its tale, never hurried and consequently never being forced into false climaxes. One of the plot devices is the judicious use of footnotes and each of these adds another little nugget to the overall lore the book builds. Its a book crying out for a whole series and I hope it gets one. This is fiction as it should be – a great tale, told fantastically well.
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