Piranesi

Three-fourths of a book is a long time to wander endless hallways and avoid creepers in dark corners without any concrete answers or direction. I felt resigned to be a disengaged voyeur as Piranesi made his rounds every chapter. There's a vague build-up in tension the few times The Other mentions 16, but that tension eases for an uncomfortably long stretches time. Piranesi's aimlessness made me stir-crazy for something more to happen. I came to this book because of its comparisons to Circe by Madeline Miller but that's an unfair comparison. Piranesi is its own bottomless can of worms—atmospheric, moody, mysterious—everything is in shadow and an exploration. I may read this one again to pick up on key clues in early chapters, but I didn't love this book as I expected.