Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell: Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell

(Seriously, that's the episode title).

So this finale snuck up on me a little bit, as for the past few weeks I've been under the impression that this was a ten-part miniseries. Truth be told, I think this adaptation could have benefited from more breathing room with which to explore Susanna Clarke's meticulously crafted alternate-history, but it captured many of the book's most important plot-points and certainly provided a twist on the usual BBC period drama. It's never going to be a classic, but as an adequate adaptation of the source material I don't have too many complaints.

As I suspected, this final episode is where a lot of shortcuts and dramatic liberties are taken, yet at the same time there are some improvements made on Clarke's text, at least in giving closure to some of the characters and in adding clarity to what exactly is going on. I've already discussed Clarke's propensity to make the reader figure out for themselves what exactly is happening in any given scene (usually by describing events from the point-of-view of a character not endowed with all the information they need to understand things) and in the book's final chapters they have to work extra-hard to figure out what exactly Jonathan and Norrell have achieved with their magic.

In a televised series, we get more of a "bird's eye view" as to what's happening, and it helped illuminate some of this episode's twists.

It opens with the dire situation of all the mirrors of England having been magically broken to reveal the King's Roads – a revelation which is promptly never dealt with again. (I'd recommend heading to the novel in order to see what consequences this influx of magic on English soil had on its ordinary citizens). Granted, the show can't veer too far away from its main cast, and so we quickly move to updates on our two magicians: Norrell has fled to Yorkshire and Strange's motivations in returning to England are considered malicious.

It becomes a bit of a tangled web at this point, with Lascelles waylaying Drawlight and snatching Strange's message for Childermass, and Childermass getting hold of Lady Pole's finger and returning it to Starecross, and Strange and Norrell attempting to summon the Raven King (who promptly departs to save Vinculus) only for them to invoke "the nameless slave" and end up endowing Stephen Black with all the knowledge of Norrell's library, who then uses it to destroy the Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair... it's just as complex as in the book, though in this case the transformation of Norrell's library into magical knowledge that gets poured into Stephen seems to be the invention of the adaptation.

It certainly gives Norrell a tiny moment of redemption, in which he's forced to give up what he loves most in order to atone for his crimes against Lady Pole, but it does make me wonder how on earth he and Strange are going to pass the time alone together without an entire library to distract them.

Another addition is that the return of Lady Pole's finger is treated with much more suspense than in the book (with Strange having arranged for her via a letter to escort Arabella out of Lost Hope when the time is right) and Mr Segundus pulling her out of the enchantment too soon – thus leading Jonathan and Norrell to fetch Arabella out of Faerie themselves. Oh, and there's actually a confrontation between the disenchanted Lady Pole and the Gentleman in which Lord Pole, Segundus and Honeyfoot are menaced by his powers.

Come to think of it, I could actually go on for quite a while in listing the differences between novel and show, but for the most part the changes worked reasonably well here, and were organic enough to make me reread some of the chapters for the sake of comparison.

But I wonder how many non-book readers are somewhat disappointed in this finale. As with the novel, there are plenty of loose threads left over (namely that Norrell and Strange are still trapped in a pillar of darkness) but the show has less chance of conveying the tone of the book: that it was less of a story to be wrapped up with the neat bow as it was the recounting of a period of history that does not end, but changes into a new age.

The Raven King in particular may have come across as something of an anti-climax; after all that time and energy spent on building up his return to England, he appears only to resurrect Vinculus from death and leave brand new text upon his body. And we don't even find out what it says!

(Seriously Susana Clarke, how's that sequel coming along?)

***

Although this is more the adaptation's fault than the novel, we also lose some of the story's background events, such as the strange Fairy Roads that open up all over England, the nervous exodus of Norrell's servants when the darkness around the house becomes too much to bear and – worst of all – the ultimate fate of Mr Lascelles.

As suspected, Lascelles's true villainy (that simmering malice strewn throughout so many words and incidences in the novel) was not built up enough over the course of the series, which requires him to explicitly spell out his motivation to Drawlight as he shoots him: "did you really think I would allow you to destroy Norrell, which is to say – destroy me?" Sigh.

The show ends up giving him the added crime of shooting Stephen in the back (for no good reason either; I guess we're just meant to assume he's trigger-happy by this point) before the Gentleman appears and turns him into porcelain; easily smashed underfoot. It's not a wholly unsatisfying conclusion for the character, but – well, I won't give away what happens to him in the novel. Suffice to say it's deliciously more karmic, in which it's his pride and not his fear that damns him.

As for the likes of Stephen Black and Lady Pole – well, the former is left hanging while the latter is given a much greater degree of closure than she did in the book. I was disappointed that the last we see of Stephen (somehow healed of his gunshot wound) is him crying out incantations as he traps the Gentleman in the tree, without any indication that he's to become the new King of Lost Hope, witnessing the place become renewed and beautiful without the corrupting influence of its last master.

Lady Pole on the other hand – last seen in the book running after Stephen and calling his name – is given an interesting final scene with her husband, in which it appears she's leaving for Venice to find Arabella without any intention of returning. In a line taken from the book (though in a vastly different context) she tells Lord Pole: "I will not go from one kind of helplessness to another." And though we do not get to see the two women reunited, the fact that they will be (along with Flora) reminds me very much of The Ladies of Grace Adieu, one of the stories in Clarke's short-story anthology.

For me at least, the highlight from start to finish was Childermass, the one actor who didn't just look and sound and act like his character, but embodied him. Reading the cards and realizing Lascelles was lying, utilizing his pickpocket skills to get his hands on the box, investigating the hanging body of Vinculus and unknowingly meeting the Raven King – it was all excellent. In fact, his grave speech to Lascelles about how: "you're in the north now," gave me chills.

And so it was with interest that I noted the final two scenes of the show were switched around from how they're ordered in the book. Here the goodbye scene between Arabella and Jonathan came first, followed by Childermass's meeting of the Yorkshire Society of Magicians which leads into the end credits. Given that he also provided the voiceover narration at the start of the show, it's clear that someone else on the writing staff was also a fan.

And then of course Norrell and Strange themselves, who I have to admit, were never favourites of mine in the novel, and so didn't really set themselves apart in this adaptation either. Bertie Carvel and Eddie Marsan were dead-ringers for the characters as described in Clarke's text, though I can't help but feel they were softened a little. Norrell in particular comes across more as an anti-social fuddy-duddy than an avaricious and greedy little man who hoards all knowledge to himself, while Jonathan is simultaneously not allowed some of his more modern sensibilities, and yet made out to be a much better husband than he actually was.

I mentioned in an earlier episode that the book recounted Arabella's disappearance from the point-of-view of the neighbourhood: the men and women and servants who joined in the search for the missing woman. At one point they're described as growing increasingly disturbed at Jonathan's behaviour; quietly condemning him for not taking better care of his wife.

The passage is deliberately crafted to make the reader unsure of how to respond, for though Jonathan is a somewhat negligent husband, he's also one of the few male characters in the book able to look beyond gender, race and class and acknowledge the double standards that exist in his society.

Sadly most of his kindnesses and open-mindedness is lost – the way he gives milk to a frightened mother cat during the Battle of Waterloo, or changed – his expression of sympathy toward Miss Grey's plight at being exiled from society after Lascelles ruins her reputation (in the adaptation she becomes the older and embittered Mrs Bullsworth). Only occasionally is it kept intact, such as his proposition to take on Childermass as an apprentice. As it happens, Arabella was often ignored by her husband, but she was also treated as Jonathan's equal (unlike the search party which seems to think of her in terms of a lost child).

The adaptation can't help but infuse a bit more romance into his marriage with Arabella, but it also loses some of his unorthodoxy as though in compensation. When he tells Flora in Venice that: "I will teach all the women and all the poor men magic," it feels more like a whimsical fancy than a very real conviction that he has every intention of fulfilling.

***

All in all, this was a pleasant and diverting series, but not something that ever truly blew me away like the book did all those years ago. Its visual medium meant there was a lot more running and yelling and special effects where there should have been quiet foreboding and atmospheric mystery, but it was well-acted, beautifully designed, and as faithful as it could be to the source material despite cutting down exponentially on Clarke's massive page-count.

I don't think it'll be something that's talked about for years to come, but if nothing else, I hope that it draws more people to the book and gives Susanna Clarke a push in completing her long-awaited sequel.

Miscellaneous Observations:

Lady Pole is hilariously bigger than Arabella. Sorry, but this just made me laugh.

I still dislike the "tornado" visual for the black tower, and the missed opportunity to portray it moving slowly across the continent as Jonathan returns to England.

Great use of the Chekhov's Gun with Segundus tracking down the spell ("to join together two articles which have parted") we saw him try to cast in the very first episode – less so with Honeyfoot's walnut-loaded rifle.

The above black/white visual between Stephen and the Gentleman is lovely, though we missed some of the finer nuances of their complex relationship: the Gentleman going to a huge amount of trouble to track down Stephen's real name, and subsequently Stephen's apology to the Gentleman as he kills him, recognizing that he did consider their friendship a kindness.

Arabella remains a quintessential Distressed Damsel, with Jonathan going so far as to break the spell over her with his kiss and forcibly push her through the mirrors (details in the book are cloudy, but it's apparent that she escapes of her own volition). Still, I liked the reimagining of their farewell taking place in the reflection of the well.

Considering they're now bound together in eternal darkness, and the last sight we see of them is Norrell cradling Jonathan in his arms, I can only assume it's Norrell's advanced age and general fustiness that prevents the existence of vast amounts of slash fiction between them.

As I've said before, this show couldn't help but soften Norrell a little bit, and it was almost worth it for the sight of his childish delight in finally reaching Faerie. Clarke never explicitly states why Norrell was so opposed to the Raven King (it's hinted here and there that his lack of control over the subject filled him with fear) but that moment of exuberance on having reached the beauty and mystery of another world was another rather charming original addition.