I read it. About the same time (a year or so ago), I heard a Catholic radio host ask rhetorically: *“Is it a good novel? I don’t know. But it’s bad history.” *Whether he’d not read it or if he just didn’t feel qualified to judge, I’m not sure, but it got me thinking about it’s novel-ness and I realized: It is not a good novel. It is a piece of pandering.
It has this tittlating, tabu subject matter. It divides some 450 pages among 100+ chapters – Short, instantaneous chapters that don’t require the reader to become engaged. And then there are the “codes” – puzzling little anagrams and riddles, leading to the great secret. With the possible exception of the first, which set the stage, I found none of them too challenging. Now, I love puzzles, so perhaps I am atypical, but as I “solved” each one long before the answer was unfolded in the story, I could certainly have taken the attitude “Well, I’m more clever by half than these protagonists – What a bright, intelligent boy I must be”. Nice ego boost.
What a load of tripe! Also: Is this typical of “feministic” literature?:
For a work about ‘recovering the sacred feminine’ the heroine is about the most gullible naif you could imagine. It’s a good thing she has two **men **to open her eyes. Throughout the book, her continuing enlightenment looks like this:
**He: **“I’m telling you an amazing secret ‘fact’ that runs counter to everything you’ve ever learned.”
**She: **“No, that can’t be.”
[bites knuckle]
**He: **“It’s true I tell you.”
**She: **“Gosh! I believe you now!”
[repeat]
Oy vey!
For a final hilarious take on the badness of the book, read the entries about Brown in
The Language Log. (start there, then search for “dan brown” in later entries)
“Renowned forum poster and armchair literary critic

”,
tee