The
Illusionists
Rosie
Thomas
I've
found myself particularly drawn to stories about stage magic
recently, for no obvious reason that I can discern, and it wasn't a
difficult decision to pick up The Illusionists
based on the cover and the jacket flap summary. The story leaps off
of the blocks immediately, immersing readers in the impoverished
alleys and variety theaters of late-Victorian London. The
atmospherics are a wonder to behold, with the city brought to life in
vibrant detail; this is a novel that plants images and ideas directly
in the reader's mind, and as it relies heavily on tone this is one of
its great strengths. Despite this, Rosie Thomas occasionally falters;
her references to homosexuality and Jack the Ripper, although
undoubtedly well-intentioned, add little to the novel and betray a
clumsiness that overtakes the book in its final third. Nonetheless,
she is usually on point, revealing just enough details to make the
book's illusions, complete with elaborate staging and framing
narratives, spring to life while retaining the requisite air of
mystery. Her decision to utilize an omniscient third-person narrator
is reminiscent of the sprawling novels of the time, and she handles
it better than many of her predecessors or contemporaries, deftly
transitioning between her characters' different perspectives.
The
book's several protagonists revolve around the charming, yet
slippery, Devil Wix, a capable stage magician with grand ambitions
who often occupies the gray areas between hero and antihero. The
compelling supporting cast includes Carlo Boldoni, an ever-contrarian
dwarf with magical skill that greatly eclipses Devil's own and Eliza
Dunlop, a prematurely liberated and forthright woman who is
compelling despite being more a product of the author's era than of
her own. They, and the minor characters alike, remain convincingly in
character for most of the novel, lending it an additional air of
plausibility. Some references to Devil's past are handled a bit too
forcefully, and Eliza's gradual softening does her a great disservice
despite its inherent philosophical potential, but readers can enjoy
seeing the characters cooperate, argue, and evolve in realistic ways.
All
of this should make for a thoroughly excellent book, but everything
unravels after the climactic ending to its second act. The narrative
arcs of parts one and two are expertly managed, driven by Thomas's
strong characters if not by any particular narrative ingenuity;
Devil's ascent is a pleasure to witness, and the thriller that
follows provides an emotionally riveting finale. Unfortunately, the
book's coda is a drawn-out, boring affair, a hundred extra and
utterly unnecessary pages affixed to what would otherwise be a
gripping, complete novel. I understand Thomas's desire to provide a
sprawling portrait of Devil, Eliza, Carlo, and company, but her
attempt to cook up a sufficient plot falls flat despite the barest
hints of potential. Her plodding insistence on dragging out the story
of the character's dull existence dampens the emotional resonance of
their previous accomplishments and escapes. The story itself loses
its sense of wonder, a fate that Devil recognizes in himself and
belatedly, halfheartedly seeks to correct. The denouement simply
fails to capture the atmosphere, excitement, and interest that drives
the majority of the book, and does its characters, author, and
readers alike a great disservice.
Rosie Thomas's great, and
apparently natural, talent is evident in The Illusionists, and
its strengths are great and evident, even in its disappointing
conclusion. The fact that its flaws are compressed into an
interminable ending renders it impossible to recapture the
occasionally breathless entertainment offered in its first
two-thirds. It is, despite its ill-conceived appendix, a good novel,
even if it is ultimately unrewarding. The Illusionists is, to
a great extent, a wonderfully executed novel of Victorian London for
all but its final third, a conclusion that is all the more lamentable
for the sheer quality of the pages that preceded it.
Grade:
B
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