Book report: Inferno, by Dan Brown
Book report: Inferno, by Dan Brown
I just finished reading Dan Brown’s latest novel, “Inferno.” Having previously read “The DaVinci Code,” “Angels and Demons,” and “The Lost Symbol,” I’m now prepared to formulate my Special and General Theory of Dan Brown Novels.
Every Dan Brown novel since “Digital Fortress” contains the following elements:
• Robert Langdon, the tall, handsome professor of art history and symbology at Harvard University. You definitely want Langdon on your team when you play Trivial Pursuit, because he knows everything about everything, which can be really handy. Whenever he speaks, it is with a smile of some kind. He is also a powerful swimmer, yet, although he’s near major bodies of water at least four times in this book, he never dives in. Also, he has probably taken a vow of celibacy, because he never ends up with the –
• Beautiful, brilliant, and plucky woman who helps Langdon unravel the mystery. In “Inferno,” Brown has outdone himself in creating the enigmatic Sienna Brooks, who is by far the most engaging character in any of his books, including Langdon. She out-thinks and out-actions Langdon and everyone else in the story. If Brown doesn’t bring Sienna back in another book – possibly her own book, without Langdon – he is missing a genuine opportunity, because she’s just the kind of person you want to have handling the –
• Emergency of horrendous consequences, which everyone is scrambling to either promote or prevent. In “DaVinci Code,” it was the shocking revelation that Jesus had kids. In “The Lost Symbol,” it made no sense whatever and I still don’t get it. In “Angels and Demons,” it was the imminent destruction of Rome by an antimatter bomb. This time out, it’s the unleashing of a worldwide plague intended to reverse the population explosion by the –
• Mad genius with all the resources and cunning of a top spy agency, whose obsession with the life and works of Dante rivals Langdon’s own fascination with –
• More art, architecture, history, literature, wordplay, and symbolism than you can shake a rod of Hermes at. It’s clear that Dan Brown yearns to be a tour guide for the entire world, and I have no doubt that his favorite phrase is, “Now, if you’ll look to your left as you enter, you’ll see …”
It’s this latter part that has always, until now, driven me crazy. Not only does Brown describe the buildings and artworks that are pertinent to the labyrinthine trail of breadcrumbs that the mad genius has left for Langdon to follow, but also buildings and artworks that have NOTHING to do with the story, but that Langdon just happens to be passing or thinking about. But I think I have finally figured out what Brown is doing with these books, and the best way I can explain it is with an analogy to ballet and opera.
If you read the actual story of a ballet or an opera, it makes sense and you can understand it as a story. But when you actually see “The Nutcracker” or “Das Rheingold,” you’re probably thinking, “What on earth does all this folderol have to do with the story?”, if not, “My God, is this never going to end?” Because, frankly, ballet and opera are terrible ways to tell a story. Unless you LOVE dance and music. If you LOVE dance, then you LOVE how ballet tells a story using dance. And if you LOVE music, then you LOVE how opera tells a story with music.
Dan Brown’s books are similar. All the stuff about Dante’s Inferno, and Vasari’s paintings, and Brunelleschi’s dome, and all the rest of it seem wildly unnecessary to an international thriller. Unless you LOVE that stuff. And that’s what I’m starting to realize: I do love that stuff. I love finding out that the Medicis had a private tunnel built from the Pitti Palace to the Palazzo Vecchio, so they could rule Florence without dealing with the rain and the riffraff. I love learning that Dante’s guide out of the inferno is Beatrice, a real woman he loved from afar his entire life. I love discovering that Turkey’s Hagia Sophia has been a Greek Orthodox basilica, an Islamic mosque, AND a Catholic cathedral, and is now a museum with elements of all three faiths. So, whatever Dan Brown is doing, I’m now on board. I get it.
Which is not to say that his books are flawless. Inferno, like the others, has some truly clunky passages, repetition of certain phrases until I could recite them in my sleep, and mostly two-dimensional characters, except for the afore-mentioned Sienna Brooks, who steps out of the pages as fully realized.
The action keeps up a frantic pace, as Langdon battles amnesia, assassins, faceless soldiers, end-of-the-world fanatics, museum guards, disapproving pregnant women, secret organizations, and the police of several cities and countries to find the Dante-oriented clues necessary to stop the mad genius’s plans. Brown still cuts back and forth between the main action and the shadowy behind-the-scenes events, as he usually does, but not with the whiplash-inducing frequency that made “The Lost Symbol” feel so much like a bumper car ride. Brown also handles flashbacks much more smoothly than he ever has before, weaving them into the flow of the story, rather than as motion-sickness-inducing plummets into the past.
He also has several stunning surprises and twists in this book, which I won’t reveal at all. However, one of them is so mind boggling that, when I read it, and then realized what he must have been doing all through the book until that point to maintain it, I was filled with admiration for his craft. That is some plotting and some writing to achieve that kind of effect. Well done.
I think this is Brown’s next-to-best book, just behind “Angels and Demons,” which I really liked. It’s fun and scary and actually makes you think at some points.
Please, Mr. Brown: more with Sienna!
Bottom line: If you like all the art/architecture/history/literature/wordplay/symbolism, I recommend Inferno.
I just finished reading Dan Brown’s latest novel, “Inferno.” Having previously read “The DaVinci Code,” “Angels and Demons,” and “The Lost Symbol,” I’m now prepared to formulate my Special and General Theory of Dan Brown Novels.
Every Dan Brown novel since “Digital Fortress” contains the following elements:
• Robert Langdon, the tall, handsome professor of art history and symbology at Harvard University. You definitely want Langdon on your team when you play Trivial Pursuit, because he knows everything about everything, which can be really handy. Whenever he speaks, it is with a smile of some kind. He is also a powerful swimmer, yet, although he’s near major bodies of water at least four times in this book, he never dives in. Also, he has probably taken a vow of celibacy, because he never ends up with the –
• Beautiful, brilliant, and plucky woman who helps Langdon unravel the mystery. In “Inferno,” Brown has outdone himself in creating the enigmatic Sienna Brooks, who is by far the most engaging character in any of his books, including Langdon. She out-thinks and out-actions Langdon and everyone else in the story. If Brown doesn’t bring Sienna back in another book – possibly her own book, without Langdon – he is missing a genuine opportunity, because she’s just the kind of person you want to have handling the –
• Emergency of horrendous consequences, which everyone is scrambling to either promote or prevent. In “DaVinci Code,” it was the shocking revelation that Jesus had kids. In “The Lost Symbol,” it made no sense whatever and I still don’t get it. In “Angels and Demons,” it was the imminent destruction of Rome by an antimatter bomb. This time out, it’s the unleashing of a worldwide plague intended to reverse the population explosion by the –
• Mad genius with all the resources and cunning of a top spy agency, whose obsession with the life and works of Dante rivals Langdon’s own fascination with –
• More art, architecture, history, literature, wordplay, and symbolism than you can shake a rod of Hermes at. It’s clear that Dan Brown yearns to be a tour guide for the entire world, and I have no doubt that his favorite phrase is, “Now, if you’ll look to your left as you enter, you’ll see …”
It’s this latter part that has always, until now, driven me crazy. Not only does Brown describe the buildings and artworks that are pertinent to the labyrinthine trail of breadcrumbs that the mad genius has left for Langdon to follow, but also buildings and artworks that have NOTHING to do with the story, but that Langdon just happens to be passing or thinking about. But I think I have finally figured out what Brown is doing with these books, and the best way I can explain it is with an analogy to ballet and opera.
If you read the actual story of a ballet or an opera, it makes sense and you can understand it as a story. But when you actually see “The Nutcracker” or “Das Rheingold,” you’re probably thinking, “What on earth does all this folderol have to do with the story?”, if not, “My God, is this never going to end?” Because, frankly, ballet and opera are terrible ways to tell a story. Unless you LOVE dance and music. If you LOVE dance, then you LOVE how ballet tells a story using dance. And if you LOVE music, then you LOVE how opera tells a story with music.
Dan Brown’s books are similar. All the stuff about Dante’s Inferno, and Vasari’s paintings, and Brunelleschi’s dome, and all the rest of it seem wildly unnecessary to an international thriller. Unless you LOVE that stuff. And that’s what I’m starting to realize: I do love that stuff. I love finding out that the Medicis had a private tunnel built from the Pitti Palace to the Palazzo Vecchio, so they could rule Florence without dealing with the rain and the riffraff. I love learning that Dante’s guide out of the inferno is Beatrice, a real woman he loved from afar his entire life. I love discovering that Turkey’s Hagia Sophia has been a Greek Orthodox basilica, an Islamic mosque, AND a Catholic cathedral, and is now a museum with elements of all three faiths. So, whatever Dan Brown is doing, I’m now on board. I get it.
Which is not to say that his books are flawless. Inferno, like the others, has some truly clunky passages, repetition of certain phrases until I could recite them in my sleep, and mostly two-dimensional characters, except for the afore-mentioned Sienna Brooks, who steps out of the pages as fully realized.
The action keeps up a frantic pace, as Langdon battles amnesia, assassins, faceless soldiers, end-of-the-world fanatics, museum guards, disapproving pregnant women, secret organizations, and the police of several cities and countries to find the Dante-oriented clues necessary to stop the mad genius’s plans. Brown still cuts back and forth between the main action and the shadowy behind-the-scenes events, as he usually does, but not with the whiplash-inducing frequency that made “The Lost Symbol” feel so much like a bumper car ride. Brown also handles flashbacks much more smoothly than he ever has before, weaving them into the flow of the story, rather than as motion-sickness-inducing plummets into the past.
He also has several stunning surprises and twists in this book, which I won’t reveal at all. However, one of them is so mind boggling that, when I read it, and then realized what he must have been doing all through the book until that point to maintain it, I was filled with admiration for his craft. That is some plotting and some writing to achieve that kind of effect. Well done.
I think this is Brown’s next-to-best book, just behind “Angels and Demons,” which I really liked. It’s fun and scary and actually makes you think at some points.
Please, Mr. Brown: more with Sienna!
Bottom line: If you like all the art/architecture/history/literature/wordplay/symbolism, I recommend Inferno.
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