Questionably
Neil Gaiman, writer of unquestionably the finest fantasy comic book in the last twenty years, calls Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke "unquestionably the finest English novel of the fantastic written in the last seventy years." One hesitates to tangle with the Dream King, but he's wrong-wrong-wrong.
I respond pre-emptively to my critics in the form of a FAQ:
Q: What's Neil talking about seventy years for?
A: He's referring to Hope Mirrlees' Lud-in-the-Mist, (published closer to eighty years ago (1926)) which the Encyclopedia of Fantasy calls a "minor classic," and which Tim Powers calls the best fantasy novel ever. I haven't read it, but I imagine the truth lies somewhere between.
Q: Is Strange & Norrell any good at all, then?
A: Yes, it's quite enjoyable, with many excellent bits and one of the best faerie characters I've read since possibly ever. Clarke really captures the sociopathic Otherness of the Sidhe. The novel itself manages to combine an amiable pastiche of Regency fiction, an imaginary (or alternate) magical history of England complete with legendary Raven King of the North, and verisimilitude of an almost Lovecraftian level, but with considerably more wit and a better feel for folklore.
Q: It keeps getting compared to Jane Austen novels, even by quite intelligent critics like John Clute. That can't be remotely right, can it?
A: No. Elements arising from the setting (England from 1806-1817) and the goal of Regency pastiche obviously coincide with tropes from Austen, and the tone of the book reaches for (and occasionally briefly arrives at) Liza Bennett-ish dryness. As in Austen, the characters are refreshingly imperfect humans, especially compared with the cardboard Mhar'i Suezz and Aragorms littering tedious mainstream fantasy. However, Strange & Norrell & Co. aren't a patch on any of Austen's characters, and the dialogue is far less sparkling. This is hardly a crime -- not much is anywhere near the plane of an Austen novel, but reviewers seem to declare anything with a marriage and a frock-coat in it "Jane Austen-like," which is like declaring any play with a lover and a ghost in it "Shakespearean." No, it just won't do.
Q: So, "unquestionably" not.
A: Right. Unquestionably the finest English novel of the fantastic written, well, ever, and certainly since 1934 or 1926, is either The Hobbit or The Once and Future King. Gaiman says that LOTR (which isn't The Hobbit, anyhow) is not "an English novel of the fantastic," which would perhaps come as some shock to the Professor. I agree with Gaiman that LOTR isn't a novel, in the formal sense (it's an epic), but it's pretty English, and The Hobbit is even Englisher, and definitely a novel. Gaiman also picks nits with the ending of Once and Future King, which seems harsh to me, especially since Strange & Norrell is itself the first book in a trilogy (EDIT: Apparently John Clute just made that trilogy thing up, which is disappointingly sloppy of him), and gods know how the whole megillah will wind up looking, so I would even accept a friendly amendment to The Sword in the Stone, which is just unsurpassed. I note, in passing, that Titus Groan and That Hideous Strength are both English novels of the fantastic vastly superior to Strange & Norrell. In a persnickety mood, I might also adduce clearly secondary works like Mythago Wood, The Owl Service, or The Golden Compass as superior. If I really wanted to be a jerk, I'd say it's inferior to The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, which doesn't take anywhere near 800 pages to get through its story with English brio to spare, but is (to be fair) rather light on the fantastic.
Q: Who are you to say that Neil Gaiman, of all people, doesn't know an English novel of the fantastic?
A: Well, he doesn't know anything about American gods, either, but let it pass. I can only plead from authority, here -- Professor Tolkein was explicitly writing "English fantasy," so the Englishness quotient can be taken as a given. Apparently Gaiman and Tolkein disagree on what's "Englishness," in which case I can only say that, yes, Strange & Norrell is veddy veddy English, but so is The Hobbit, to this American at any rate. (One doesn't expect Gaiman to even try to question T.H. White's Englishness, but someone who will claim that hobbits are un-English will claim anything.)
Q: I still don't think you ought to be bagging on Neil Gaiman, Mister Unemployed Star-Trek-and-Templars Doofus.
A: Well, even Homer nods. And I'm sure there was some scabrous Ionian bard who eked out a few obols yarning about mystery cults and trireme adventure waiting to point it out on his LiveJournal, too.
I respond pre-emptively to my critics in the form of a FAQ:
Q: What's Neil talking about seventy years for?
A: He's referring to Hope Mirrlees' Lud-in-the-Mist, (published closer to eighty years ago (1926)) which the Encyclopedia of Fantasy calls a "minor classic," and which Tim Powers calls the best fantasy novel ever. I haven't read it, but I imagine the truth lies somewhere between.
Q: Is Strange & Norrell any good at all, then?
A: Yes, it's quite enjoyable, with many excellent bits and one of the best faerie characters I've read since possibly ever. Clarke really captures the sociopathic Otherness of the Sidhe. The novel itself manages to combine an amiable pastiche of Regency fiction, an imaginary (or alternate) magical history of England complete with legendary Raven King of the North, and verisimilitude of an almost Lovecraftian level, but with considerably more wit and a better feel for folklore.
Q: It keeps getting compared to Jane Austen novels, even by quite intelligent critics like John Clute. That can't be remotely right, can it?
A: No. Elements arising from the setting (England from 1806-1817) and the goal of Regency pastiche obviously coincide with tropes from Austen, and the tone of the book reaches for (and occasionally briefly arrives at) Liza Bennett-ish dryness. As in Austen, the characters are refreshingly imperfect humans, especially compared with the cardboard Mhar'i Suezz and Aragorms littering tedious mainstream fantasy. However, Strange & Norrell & Co. aren't a patch on any of Austen's characters, and the dialogue is far less sparkling. This is hardly a crime -- not much is anywhere near the plane of an Austen novel, but reviewers seem to declare anything with a marriage and a frock-coat in it "Jane Austen-like," which is like declaring any play with a lover and a ghost in it "Shakespearean." No, it just won't do.
Q: So, "unquestionably" not.
A: Right. Unquestionably the finest English novel of the fantastic written, well, ever, and certainly since 1934 or 1926, is either The Hobbit or The Once and Future King. Gaiman says that LOTR (which isn't The Hobbit, anyhow) is not "an English novel of the fantastic," which would perhaps come as some shock to the Professor. I agree with Gaiman that LOTR isn't a novel, in the formal sense (it's an epic), but it's pretty English, and The Hobbit is even Englisher, and definitely a novel. Gaiman also picks nits with the ending of Once and Future King, which seems harsh to me, especially since Strange & Norrell is itself the first book in a trilogy (EDIT: Apparently John Clute just made that trilogy thing up, which is disappointingly sloppy of him), and gods know how the whole megillah will wind up looking, so I would even accept a friendly amendment to The Sword in the Stone, which is just unsurpassed. I note, in passing, that Titus Groan and That Hideous Strength are both English novels of the fantastic vastly superior to Strange & Norrell. In a persnickety mood, I might also adduce clearly secondary works like Mythago Wood, The Owl Service, or The Golden Compass as superior. If I really wanted to be a jerk, I'd say it's inferior to The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, which doesn't take anywhere near 800 pages to get through its story with English brio to spare, but is (to be fair) rather light on the fantastic.
Q: Who are you to say that Neil Gaiman, of all people, doesn't know an English novel of the fantastic?
A: Well, he doesn't know anything about American gods, either, but let it pass. I can only plead from authority, here -- Professor Tolkein was explicitly writing "English fantasy," so the Englishness quotient can be taken as a given. Apparently Gaiman and Tolkein disagree on what's "Englishness," in which case I can only say that, yes, Strange & Norrell is veddy veddy English, but so is The Hobbit, to this American at any rate. (One doesn't expect Gaiman to even try to question T.H. White's Englishness, but someone who will claim that hobbits are un-English will claim anything.)
Q: I still don't think you ought to be bagging on Neil Gaiman, Mister Unemployed Star-Trek-and-Templars Doofus.
A: Well, even Homer nods. And I'm sure there was some scabrous Ionian bard who eked out a few obols yarning about mystery cults and trireme adventure waiting to point it out on his LiveJournal, too.