I found the ending of the book extremely meaningful (to me, personally) as a trauma narrative because it accepts trauma as something that has changed you irrevocably, but it does not abandon the person who has been traumatised. The Narrator's existence, although he is in some ways broken, matters, and is not lesser because he has changed. This idea is obviously not new, but I felt Clarke captured it in a more moving and wise way than any other narrative I've read. I also find the ending a good allegory for living with illness, as Clarke does (and I do): that you are limited within the body (or the House) but within those limitations life can still be infinite. The ending encapsulates that perfectly.
I planned to reread this book before the year was out, and your review is bolstering my resolve to do so. When you talk about what Sarah Raphael has achieved, you make me realise how amazing her story is too. In fact, another novel in which the police detective rescues the prince from the tower would be fascinating -- I would absolutely read that! Sylvia D'Agostino is a very intriguing character too -- one of my few complaints about Clarke is her lack of attention to her female characters, which was also true in Piranesi. There are so many interesting hints though!
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I planned to reread this book before the year was out, and your review is bolstering my resolve to do so. When you talk about what Sarah Raphael has achieved, you make me realise how amazing her story is too. In fact, another novel in which the police detective rescues the prince from the tower would be fascinating -- I would absolutely read that! Sylvia D'Agostino is a very intriguing character too -- one of my few complaints about Clarke is her lack of attention to her female characters, which was also true in Piranesi. There are so many interesting hints though!