Book report: The Lost Symbol, by Dan Brown
Book report: The Lost Symbol, by Dan Brown
I started reading Dan Brown’s “The DaVinci Code”, and really liked it, up until I found out that the big secret behind all the machinations was that Jesus was a dad (“Dad, show Jimmy that you can too walk on water!”), and his descendants (the Christs?) were still among us. I couldn’t take it seriously after that. It was as if the big secret was that the moon really was made of green cheese, and an immense conspiracy was underway by Kraft to harvest all that cheese. Sorry, I cannot suspend disbelief that much, and I’m usually a really good belief-suspender.
His “Angels and Demons” was terrific, though. He actually wrote this before DaVinci Code, but when DVC became such a monster hit, A&D was rediscovered. It’s about a plot to blow up the Vatican with an anti-matter bomb, all orchestrated by a madman who also feels the need to kidnap and maim several archbishops – who are in the midst of electing a new Pope – at certain historically significant locations in Rome. Great action and fascinating history and locations.
Now that his “Inferno” just came out, I realized that I was a book behind, and read “The Lost Symbol” to catch up. This one is about a madman trying to decode a centuries-old message in Washington, DC, which turns out to have just as many strange nooks and hidden tales as Paris or Rome.
What Dan Brown does great is expose all kinds of little-known history and arcane symbolism that is in plain sight. Who knew that Darth Vader is one of the gargoyles on the National Cathedral? Who knew that our supposedly Christian forebears built mythology-laden Greek and Roman temples all over Washington, DC (or, as they called it, New Rome)? Brown turns entire cities into vast treasure maps, with Harvard professor of symbology Robert Langdon trying to stay one step ahead of both good guys and bad guys while he picks up the necessary clues to solve the mysteries (or Mysteries) before the historical s**t hits the modern fan.
Which is not to say that The Lost Symbol doesn’t have its problems. First off, it desperately cries out for a good editing. It’s 656 pages in paperback and, much as I love all the historical and architectural and symbolic arcana that are Brown’s specialty, there are lots of sections that need a good pruning, sometimes because they are way too tangential and sometimes because the information is redundant. I’m worried that Brown has come down with Stephen King Syndrome: because he sells umpteen million books, his every word is sacrosanct and uncuttable. Luckily, his new “Inferno” is only 480 pages, so maybe someone has figured that out. It still doesn’t help The Lost Symbol, though. There’s a lot to wade through.
This redundancy works against him when it comes to the shocking twists and turns. When the Big Surprise happens – and I was totally surprised, didn’t see it coming at all – you don’t think, “Wow! So that’s what was really happening in chapter 7!” Instead, you think, “Oh, so that’s what was really happening in chapters 7, 11, 13, 34, 56, 86 through 89 inclusive, 106, and 119.” It loses its punch.
Time for some math: there are 133 chapters in those 656 pages, which means that each chapter is less than 5 pages long. This is the literary equivalent of those movies that constantly cut back and forth between multiple storylines, inducing motion sickness. Brown is determined to end every chapter on a cliffhanger, and you can mentally hear “Dun-dun-DUN!” about every 5 pages. It gets old after the first 30 chapters or so. Some of these chapters take up only a second or two of real time, just long enough for someone to say something, hear something, and turn their head to see – Dun-dun-DUN!
Making this even worse, at least half of the story takes place in the past, at five or six periods previous to the current action. If we let C be a scene in Current time, and P be a scene in Past time, the outline for this book looks like this:
CPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCP
meaning, we also get chronological whiplash. I would like it more if he had a whole big chunk of story in current time, and then a whole big chunk of story in past time, like this:
CCCCCCCCCCCCPPPPPPCCCCCCCCCPPPPPP
Ah, much better.
He also has difficulties writing characters who talk and act realistically. Most conversations go like this:
A: Why?
B: In 1656, King Engelbert of Humperdinck … (continue for 4 pages until Dun-dun-DUN!)
This isn’t how real people talk, thank heavens. Not even your Uncle Henry.
Also, at the very end, there is one character who has been so physically, mentally, and emotionally wounded that he should be lying in a catatonic daze for the next three weeks. Instead, he’s doing his own historical show-and-tell, puzzling out clues, and leading his own treasure map ramble. Sorry, but no one would act this way.
Also also, as in his other novels I’ve read, there is a beautiful, intelligent, witty, active, brave, and interesting single woman interested in symbols and antiquities, whom main character Robert Langdon scarcely even notices. Now, I certainly don’t expect them to just fall into the sack James Bond-style merely because they’ve had an adventure together – wait, no, yes, I DO expect them to fall into the sack together. I mean, why on earth is she in the story EXCEPT to provide the possibility of at least having a cup of coffee with the hero at the end? If Brown is NOT going to give us this kind of an ending, why give us this kind of character? Why not make her male or a child or a golden retriever or someone else whom we would NEVER expect to get together with the hero? I call Chekov’s gun on this one. Give us at least a passionate kiss or a smoldering glance. Anything to assure us we aren’t watching Robot Playhouse.
Which brings up (somehow) the Impending Doom in this book. In “Angels & Demons,” you recall, the Vatican was going to get leveled at midnight by an antimatter-bomb. Scary, right? Something you really want to stop from happening, yes? Now, in this book, there is an unnamed Risk to National Security going on along with everything else, and I naturally figured that it had to be a nuke in the White House or napalm in the Smithsonian or nerve gas in the souvenir shop or something else as horrifying. Instead, when it’s revealed, it’s – no big deal. I can imagine Homeland Security hearing about this and thinking, “Great. Bring it. Just the kind of Risk to National Security we like.” Namely, none at all. Huh?
One thing that I did find really interesting was the details about how the madman came to be a madman. Mind you, he’s a thoroughly loathsome character and it kind of makes your skin crawl to be riding around inside his head. But it’s also sort of fascinating to see how someone with such a warped view looks at the world and his own life.
Which actually gave me an idea. As I said, in all his books, there is a shadowy madman who is making the action go. This guy knows all about the secret histories, and is as masterful at symbols as the hero is. Furthermore, he’s a master plotter, devising all kinds of clever schemes and intricate plots to drive the good guys crazy. But, if you think about it, there’s only one person on earth who could possibly do all of that. Yes, the shadowy madman must actually be – Dan Brown!
Dun-dun-DUN!
Recommended if you like secret history and arcane symbols, but don’t be afraid to skip pages.
I started reading Dan Brown’s “The DaVinci Code”, and really liked it, up until I found out that the big secret behind all the machinations was that Jesus was a dad (“Dad, show Jimmy that you can too walk on water!”), and his descendants (the Christs?) were still among us. I couldn’t take it seriously after that. It was as if the big secret was that the moon really was made of green cheese, and an immense conspiracy was underway by Kraft to harvest all that cheese. Sorry, I cannot suspend disbelief that much, and I’m usually a really good belief-suspender.
His “Angels and Demons” was terrific, though. He actually wrote this before DaVinci Code, but when DVC became such a monster hit, A&D was rediscovered. It’s about a plot to blow up the Vatican with an anti-matter bomb, all orchestrated by a madman who also feels the need to kidnap and maim several archbishops – who are in the midst of electing a new Pope – at certain historically significant locations in Rome. Great action and fascinating history and locations.
Now that his “Inferno” just came out, I realized that I was a book behind, and read “The Lost Symbol” to catch up. This one is about a madman trying to decode a centuries-old message in Washington, DC, which turns out to have just as many strange nooks and hidden tales as Paris or Rome.
What Dan Brown does great is expose all kinds of little-known history and arcane symbolism that is in plain sight. Who knew that Darth Vader is one of the gargoyles on the National Cathedral? Who knew that our supposedly Christian forebears built mythology-laden Greek and Roman temples all over Washington, DC (or, as they called it, New Rome)? Brown turns entire cities into vast treasure maps, with Harvard professor of symbology Robert Langdon trying to stay one step ahead of both good guys and bad guys while he picks up the necessary clues to solve the mysteries (or Mysteries) before the historical s**t hits the modern fan.
Which is not to say that The Lost Symbol doesn’t have its problems. First off, it desperately cries out for a good editing. It’s 656 pages in paperback and, much as I love all the historical and architectural and symbolic arcana that are Brown’s specialty, there are lots of sections that need a good pruning, sometimes because they are way too tangential and sometimes because the information is redundant. I’m worried that Brown has come down with Stephen King Syndrome: because he sells umpteen million books, his every word is sacrosanct and uncuttable. Luckily, his new “Inferno” is only 480 pages, so maybe someone has figured that out. It still doesn’t help The Lost Symbol, though. There’s a lot to wade through.
This redundancy works against him when it comes to the shocking twists and turns. When the Big Surprise happens – and I was totally surprised, didn’t see it coming at all – you don’t think, “Wow! So that’s what was really happening in chapter 7!” Instead, you think, “Oh, so that’s what was really happening in chapters 7, 11, 13, 34, 56, 86 through 89 inclusive, 106, and 119.” It loses its punch.
Time for some math: there are 133 chapters in those 656 pages, which means that each chapter is less than 5 pages long. This is the literary equivalent of those movies that constantly cut back and forth between multiple storylines, inducing motion sickness. Brown is determined to end every chapter on a cliffhanger, and you can mentally hear “Dun-dun-DUN!” about every 5 pages. It gets old after the first 30 chapters or so. Some of these chapters take up only a second or two of real time, just long enough for someone to say something, hear something, and turn their head to see – Dun-dun-DUN!
Making this even worse, at least half of the story takes place in the past, at five or six periods previous to the current action. If we let C be a scene in Current time, and P be a scene in Past time, the outline for this book looks like this:
CPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCPCP
meaning, we also get chronological whiplash. I would like it more if he had a whole big chunk of story in current time, and then a whole big chunk of story in past time, like this:
CCCCCCCCCCCCPPPPPPCCCCCCCCCPPPPPP
Ah, much better.
He also has difficulties writing characters who talk and act realistically. Most conversations go like this:
A: Why?
B: In 1656, King Engelbert of Humperdinck … (continue for 4 pages until Dun-dun-DUN!)
This isn’t how real people talk, thank heavens. Not even your Uncle Henry.
Also, at the very end, there is one character who has been so physically, mentally, and emotionally wounded that he should be lying in a catatonic daze for the next three weeks. Instead, he’s doing his own historical show-and-tell, puzzling out clues, and leading his own treasure map ramble. Sorry, but no one would act this way.
Also also, as in his other novels I’ve read, there is a beautiful, intelligent, witty, active, brave, and interesting single woman interested in symbols and antiquities, whom main character Robert Langdon scarcely even notices. Now, I certainly don’t expect them to just fall into the sack James Bond-style merely because they’ve had an adventure together – wait, no, yes, I DO expect them to fall into the sack together. I mean, why on earth is she in the story EXCEPT to provide the possibility of at least having a cup of coffee with the hero at the end? If Brown is NOT going to give us this kind of an ending, why give us this kind of character? Why not make her male or a child or a golden retriever or someone else whom we would NEVER expect to get together with the hero? I call Chekov’s gun on this one. Give us at least a passionate kiss or a smoldering glance. Anything to assure us we aren’t watching Robot Playhouse.
Which brings up (somehow) the Impending Doom in this book. In “Angels & Demons,” you recall, the Vatican was going to get leveled at midnight by an antimatter-bomb. Scary, right? Something you really want to stop from happening, yes? Now, in this book, there is an unnamed Risk to National Security going on along with everything else, and I naturally figured that it had to be a nuke in the White House or napalm in the Smithsonian or nerve gas in the souvenir shop or something else as horrifying. Instead, when it’s revealed, it’s – no big deal. I can imagine Homeland Security hearing about this and thinking, “Great. Bring it. Just the kind of Risk to National Security we like.” Namely, none at all. Huh?
One thing that I did find really interesting was the details about how the madman came to be a madman. Mind you, he’s a thoroughly loathsome character and it kind of makes your skin crawl to be riding around inside his head. But it’s also sort of fascinating to see how someone with such a warped view looks at the world and his own life.
Which actually gave me an idea. As I said, in all his books, there is a shadowy madman who is making the action go. This guy knows all about the secret histories, and is as masterful at symbols as the hero is. Furthermore, he’s a master plotter, devising all kinds of clever schemes and intricate plots to drive the good guys crazy. But, if you think about it, there’s only one person on earth who could possibly do all of that. Yes, the shadowy madman must actually be – Dan Brown!
Dun-dun-DUN!
Recommended if you like secret history and arcane symbols, but don’t be afraid to skip pages.
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