Piranesi is singular. When I bought this book in Foyles I was told it was ‘enrapturing’. The next day, I found myself on a bus, beginning Piranesi. Some time passed, then I finally noticed it had been stopped for half on hour on account of a protest on the Euston road. I hadn’t noticed, I was enraptured. I set off from the bus, having not reached my destination and took a train home. I continued reading Piranesi. It is haunting, terrifying in the depth of its sorrow. It is calm and happy. Clarke has written something beautiful in Piranesi, something very hard to describe, something to cherish.