Author’s first novel about magic lacks wisdom and amusement

Bloomsbury, the British publisher that first gave J.K. Rowling ink and paper for “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” — and made a lot of money doing so — has spent a large chunk of its fortune tub-thumping another first novel about magic, “Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell.”

It paid off: Several weeks before the book was released, author Susanna Clarke was the subject of a gushing interview in the New York Times Magazine and a flattering review in Time.

The novel has been called “Harry Potter for adults.” To her credit, Clarke has said she does not take such a claim seriously.

There are things to admire about “Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell,” but at 782 pages, there is just too much of it, given how little it ultimately delivers in terms of wisdom and amusement.

It involves an imaginary England where magic is an accepted part of the nation’s history. But by the autumn of 1806, when this tale begins, magic has not been practiced in England for “rather more than 200 years.” There are men who study magic (no women, in that age of repression), but only from books (many of which are cited in often funny footnotes).

John Segundus, at a meeting of the Learned Society of York Magicians, asks why magic is not being practiced — which leads to an argument, and a visit to the reclusive Norrell, who is rumored to have a large library of books about magic.

“Magic is not ended in England,” he says. “I myself am quite a tolerable magician.”

Challenged to demonstrate, Norrell first exacts a promise from the other scholars that they’ll stop studying magic if his demonstration succeeds. In an amusing scene, he brings stone statues in York Cathedral to life, and the statues regale all with tales of what they’ve seen in their hundreds of years.

Norell’s aim is to persuade the government to use his ability in the war against Napoleon. But he is unable to win the government’s confidence until he succeeds in bringing back to life a young woman who has died just a few days before her marriage to a cabinet minister.

That is classic trouble, of course. If we dare — in fiction, anyway — to usurp God’s will regarding death, we will be in trouble. So, with another 700 pages yet to read, we already know what the final conflict of this book must be.

Eventually the Jonathan Strange of the title shows up. He is tall, handsome and charming (unlike the pinched and boring Norrell), a gentleman hobbyist who’d taken up magic largely so his beloved, Arabella, won’t just think him a shiftless layabout.

Strange becomes a student of Norrell’s, and the two become limited partners in confounding the French with magic, though Norrell keeps a majority of his knowledge — and books — hidden from Strange.

But when Strange actually goes to the battlefield to serve the Duke of Wellington, he begins making up his own magic, and becomes practiced and powerful. Upon his return to England, he and Norrell quarrel and break their friendship. Strange wants to bring magic to the masses; Norrell wants to keep it controlled.

Clarke’s cleverly crafted fantasy will earn some admiration among a small audience, but it’s too lacking in fun, charm and meaningfulness to keep a large one. Its life lessons are very slight, and none of them original. Still, the last 150 pages or so are exciting and fun, despite the slogging needed to reach them.

To Clarke’s credit, not all the world is set right again by the end of this book. And yes, something like a sequel is in the works.