And so we have our third devouring of this novel...

By this time, we have seen a good deal of magic, including the creation of an entire fleet of ships out of rain, raising the dead, scrying spells, and a whole bunch of other stuff. We also, at long last, meet Jonathan Strange, who basically stumbles into becoming a Magician (the second active in England) through a complex series of events beginning with Mr. Norrel's attempt to drive out a rival (false) magician. The theme of actions having backfiring consequences is alive and well.

The plot does seem to try to be moving forward, but there are countless digressions. The author takes a good two chapters to focus on the machinations of a faerie on the lives of the household staff of a character who is an associate of Mr. Norrel, and while I hope there's a payoff eventually, the digression, at this point, doesn't seem to have one. (A point, that is. We shall see.) There are also very extensive footnotes, to the point where they become short stories written in small text below the main page. Having endured classes in 19th century literature, this is not at all atypical -- for some reason, novelists in the late 18th and early 19th centuries had serious cases of ADD. (Cough Tristram Shandy cough).

A few more thoughts...

Mr. Norrel is much more "protagonist" than "hero". Susanna Clarke does a remarkable job of making him simultaneously unlikable and pitiable. His list of character flaws is pretty extensive, yet, you feel somewhat sorry for him, as he is as much a victim of the manipulations of others as he is, himself, a manipulator. He is very skilled as magic (or, at least, he's the only person with such skills until the advent of Strange), but utterly lost in terms of social interaction and politics -- in many ways, he's a computer geek, a magical Bill Gates of the early 19th century. He has managed to keep any other man from learning practical magic, but he is easily manipulated by others appealing to his vanity and exploiting his ignorance. Strange is currently being set up as a much "nicer" person, or at least more likable and more worldly, and I have to wonder how much of that is misdirection. Never trust an author.

The nature of magic in this world seems to be somewhat undefined, though again I think we'll get more details soon. What I find interesting is the implication that doing magic is, actually, quite easy -- it seems that, given a properly written spell, anyone can simply follow the directions and do it. This makes it hard to understand precisely why magic is so rarely performed by the time of the novel, but perhaps there's something I'm missing.

Another rhetorical trick, which I find  interesting because it's precisely the opposite of my own writing style, is a blandly disinterested narrative voice and enthusiastic characters. (My fiction tends to have horribly purple narration combined with bored, blase, characters). The narrator (who seems to be, in the context of the book, a "real" person writing a history, as there is sometimes self-reference in the narrative prose) is blankly matter of fact about everything, even if the characters express wonderment. Actually, though, one of the common signs of magic in the world is that it seems normal -- that is, characters will see some amazing transformation, and nonetheless have a feeling that nothing has changed, despite consciously knowing that it has. A house becomes a forest? Well, of course, it was always a forest, even though, intellectually, the character knows is was just recently a house. This creates a very nice sense of the strange and alien nature of faerie. (For RPG gamers, esp. those playing Dungeons & Dragons 4e, this book is an excellent guide to integrating the Feywild into play.)

The general attitude towards magic in the universe, as I noted, is one of placid acceptance of the fact of magic, even if there is some astonishment at the performance of it. The best model I can think of is how Olympic quality athletes are perceived. You might marvel at the skill of a gymnast or a weightlifter, but the ability to perform acrobatics or lift weights is never seen as odd, questionable, or impossible. I find this a very unique "take" on the subject, especially given the lack of any "practicing" magicians in England for a century or so.

So, onwards then, unto the rest of the book! About 1/3rd done, I suspect most of the major players are on stage, and things are beginning to pick up at a considerable pace. We shall see.