The Prestige (1995)
by Christopher Priest.
(Sydney Morning Herald, Spectrum: Best Book You've Never Read, November 2004)
When first published, The Prestige received unanimous critical acclaim and collected the James Tait Black Memorial Prize and a World fantasy Award. Yet this work remains a largely neglected masterpiece, and deserves an audience wider than the fantasy connoisseur.
The novel is about the bitter feud between two London stage magicians at the turn of the twentieth century. Alfred Borden and Rupert Angier (known by the stage names of ‘Le Professeur de la Magie’ and ‘The Great Danton’) will go to any lengths to outperform each other. The holy grail of magic tricks is ‘The Transported Man’, where the magician seems to disappear onstage and immediately reappear at the other side of the room. Apparently, Angier has devised a way of _really_ accomplishing the teleportation, and Borden is desperate to find out the secret.
The story begins with the present, when Alfred Borden’s great-grandson first learns about his family’s past. Adopted at the age of three, Andrew Wesley (born Borden) has never known his natural parents. But all his life Andrew has been able to feel a psychic connection to somebody else, who he imagines as a lost twin brother. During a journalistic assignment, he meets Kate Angier, great-granddaughter of Rupert. At this stage, to say any more would give too much away.
Most of the novel is told through the journals of Borden and Angier, each preceded by first person accounts from their modern descendants. The Prestige is a baroque tale of show biz espionage and Faustian ambition, set in the heyday of illusionism. We follow Borden and Angier as they sabotage and steal each other’s stage illusions, and eventually succumb to the mysterious forces they have set free. There are wonderful accounts of the everyday business of magic, the backstage preparations and the machinery of the trade.
This tale is a superb meditation on the nature of illusion, obsession, and death. Central to it is a metaphorical profusion of doubles (the two magicians and their transported selves, or the “doubled� modern narrators) whose stories interweave and fatefully interlink. Priest’s evocation of the period is immensely skilful. He is a master of style who has also deeply researched his subject matter. Despite its tragic magnitude, the narrative doesn’t ever sound clever or contrived, and communicates a selfless love for the art of storytelling. The structure of the novel is itself a great magic trick, peeling away layers, multiplying, revealing while occluding. And like any accomplished magician, Priest leaves the reader wondering if some real magic was not involved.
Andres Vaccari
posted by Andres Vaccari @ 2:28 PM