This book came highly recommended accompanied by high praise and, as a result, even higher expectations. It did not disappoint.
Unusually, it also came with no blurb or dustjacket or any description of the plot on the book’s cover or inside pages. As a result, this review has deliberately avoided spoilers in an attempt to respect the element of mystery inherent there.
One key standout from this novel is the intricacy and complexity with which the author creates her world. The role of magic—whether real or illusory—is treated so carefully and woven into the plot with such a deft hand that, in the end, it isn’t actually important whether the protagonists have actual magic powers or not. The story is bigger than that. It is a story that readers can fall right into. But, once inside, they can actually walk around and see, smell and hear the different sensory aspects of the circus, from the fire burning in the centre, to the smell of caramel and the starkness of only white and black at every turn.
Erin Morgestern’s capacity to construct the circus out of words mirrors the way her protagonists, Celia and Marco, construct the tents and displays out of magic so that the whole novel ends up being a clever meta-construction of the circus itself.
The pace is slow without being tedious or laboured. And the writing is so lyrical that every sentence adds something, if not to the plot, at least to the scenery and the character development. Plus, the unhurried pace means the reader can revel in the detail; and there is so much detail that, in order to fully connect the shifts in time between chapters, the reader benefits from the slower movement of the plot.
Initially, I was unsure about the selection of present tense for the entirety of the novel. But it quickly becomes natural and provides a sense of both currency and urgency to the story.
The temporal field ranges from 1873 to 1903, with shifts in time marked at the beginning of each chapter. There are also excerpts included sporadically throughout the novel which are undated and written in the second person. At times, second person can be jarring to read in novels as “you” the reader feel suddenly identified, turned from anonymous spectator of the story to active participant. However, these excerpts are intended to link the story of the circus’ inception in the late nineteenth century to the reader in their own present, whenever that is. This is only revealed in the final chapter, almost an epilogue in its own right, where a few small hints suggest a temporal shift from the rest of the novel—e.g. the inclusion of an email address. It is an usual way to end the novel but is a nice nod to the timelessness of the Night Circus.
Admittedly this novel is hard to classify with regard to genre. But overall, it is a beautiful example of historical fiction with a elements of the fantastic throughout. A truly enjoyable read.
