"Dum" but fun: a book to hate and love, December 30, 2003

The major weaknesses of the book are its poorly-developed and one-dimensional characters, its host of plot implausibilities, and its legion of factual mistakes in geography, history, theology, ecclesiology, art, and foreign languages (to name but a few areas). My favorite goof in the book comes on page 122 (of the paperback edition), where the author mistakingly uses the Latin word "Dum" (which means "while") for "Deum" ("God"). I normally would regard this as a mere typo missed by a careless editor (if there even was an editor); but in light of the many other mistakes in Latin and Italian in the book, my suspicion is that the author just didn't know any better. Such amateurish errors are more than matched by the book's many factual errors, which make the claims of some that there is much substantial knowledge that can be gleaned from this "well-researched" book both astonishing and sad.

The worst ongoing weakness of the book, however, is its utter implausibility. Introduced early on is a plane that travels (for no apparent reason) at an incredible Mach 15, which is the approximate speed that the characters would have to move to accomplish all that they do in the allotted eleven hours (counting from the protagonist's landing in Geneva). For example, Professor Langdon does in mere minutes by means of incredibly lucky finds and great intuitive leaps (and in what must be the world's most complicated and idiosyncratic library) research that would take any other professional scholar weeks, months, or years to accomplish. This is the same brilliant academic who earlier, together with the crack minds of the Swiss Guard, was unable to figure out that their own crucial, stolen wireless camera (and the destructive device on which it was focused) could be located simply and quickly by isolating its transmitting frequency, which they had to know, and triangulating on its signal. Later in the novel, this mental giant also thinks it is a good idea to sneak up on a ruthless, professional assassin whose feet are firmly planted on terra firma by climbing waist-deep into a nearby fountain, pointing a gun at him, and saying "Don't move." Still later, having (of course) narrowly escaped being drowned in that incident, this brilliant Harvard professor tries virtually the same approach, only this time, fortunately, without the water . . . but, unfortunately, without the gun either. As another example, I challenge the reader to try to imagine all of the events described as happening between 11:39 p.m. and midnight, or even the ground supposedly covered in the process: from the steps of the basilica, to its subterranean bowels (with a pause to kneel and pray), back to the surface, to a helicopter and an altitude of 2 to 3 miles. Absurd -- except, perhaps, at Mach 15!

But the novel really "jumps the shark," as they say, in the last sixty pages or so, where an ill-founded and ridiculous plot twist occurs that is an insult to any intelligent reader. Why the author feels the need to jerk his audience around in this way and just there is beyond me. He has already demanded a willful suspension of disbelief of enormous (some would say biblical) proportions.

For all of its multitudious flaws, however, I hate to admit that enjoyed reading this stupid book. I think a part of the fun was in trying to anticipate the next "Dum" mistake or new demand on the reader's already strained credulity the author would make. Would I recommend the book? To a person with time on their hands who would like an easy, mindless, action-packed romp, sure. For a more mature reader interested in well-researched and slick Catholic ecclesial-theological intrigue, however, I would recommend dusting off an old Morris West or Irving Wallace novel. If this book is any indication, Dan Brown can't (so to speak) hold a candle to the likes of them.

To those who declare that this book is the best they have read, either ever or in a long time, I would say: "De gustibus non disputandum." That means "There's no accounting for taste," though Brown, I suspect, would translate it: "It's no use arguing about the wind." Mercy.