“The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not.”

Ten long years have passed since Erin Morgenstern released her  debut novel “The Night Circus.” And despite the scores of enchanting fantasy novels I have encountered in the time since then, Morgenstern’s phantasmagorical fairy tale continues to hold a special place in my heart. This is a book I recommend often, and I feel as though it is necessary for me to explain why.

Set in the late 1800s, “The Night Circus” follows Le Cirque de Rêves — a magical, traveling circus whose name is French for “the circus of dreams.” Far from an ordinary circus, Le Cirque de Rêves contains mystical wonders of all varieties. Yet these “ethereal enigmas” are not as light-hearted as they seem; they merely serve as a proxy for a decades-long contest of illusions. 

This is a complex book, and I could easily spend paragraphs explaining its intricacies and nuances. However, I wouldn’t dare deprive you of the pleasure of discovering them for yourselves.

Every person deserves to find a book they can get completely lost in. Morgenstern’s novel is an ode to the senses — a detail that sets it far above its contemporaries. Most novels focus their efforts on conveying images of the world they seek to depict. But for those who cannot see images in their heads, the descriptions that authors hope will paint vivid mental portraits have little effect. 

The tangibility of Morgenstern’s world is unlike anything I have experienced, and I’ve read a lot of books. If you cannot see the everchanging grandfather clock, you can hear the chiming of the bells and gasps of attendees. If you cannot hear, you can smell the spiced cider and eternally burning bonfire. If you cannot smell it, you can taste the dark caramel and sugar glass delicacies. If you cannot taste it, the satin tophats and wool coats can be felt.

Each time I open this book, I am reminded of the power these details have to enrich a world. And suddenly, my favorite books seem dull in comparison. 

“The Night Circus” certainly has its faults, as all works of literature do except Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice,” but I find myself willing to love it nevertheless. It has been critiqued for its slow pacing, but I’ve always found something enchanting about even its most lethargic moments.

Much like the circus she crafted, Morgenstern has the ability to write in a way I can only describe as magical. As if by sleight of hand, each additional chapter presents readers with a new mystery to discover.

 I don’t mean that as in, “you’ll never guess what comes next,” but rather, “the next chapter follows a side character five years in the future.” Those time jumps can be off-putting to some readers, but everything ties together and each discovery enriches the next.

“It goes on for some time about dreams and family and striving for uniqueness in a world of sameness,” Morgenstern wrote. “Some of it is profound and other bits are rambling and nonsensical.”

This quote beautifully encapsulates “The Night Circus” ─ its style is not for everyone; some will certainly groan at the elaborate details and the slow progression of action. Perhaps the thread of romance might even  seem inconsequential. But, I will never not be transfixed by the descriptions of each tent, the mechanical intricacies of the circus’ grandfather clock, the air of mystery, the depth of love and the troupe of performers who are not quite sure just how magical this circus of theirs is.