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The Da Vinci Code (Paperback) (Paperback)
by Dan Brown
| Category:
Fiction, Mystery and Suspense |
| Market price: ¥ 168.00
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¥ 158.00
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| MSL Pointer Review:
The Da Vinci Code is fascinating and absorbing - perfect for history buffs, conspiracy nuts, puzzle lovers or anyone who appreciates a great, riveting story. |
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Author: Dan Brown
Publisher: Anchor
Pub. in: March, 2006
ISBN: 0307277674
Pages: 464
Measurements: 7.8 x 5.8 x 1 inches
Origin of product: USA
Order code: BC00152
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- MSL Picks -
The Da Vinci Code is a competent piece of fiction - a neat blend of conspiracy theory, suspense and romance that will appeal to a wide variety of tastes (as it has). The characters are typically two-dimensional, as with many pop thrillers of this kind; and the plot, a reinterpretation of the grail legend, is certainly not new. But Dan Brown keeps the reader going with a tight storyline and intelligent puzzles along the way. The puzzles, which are cleverly weaved into the grail conspiracy, are the chief selling-point of the book and help to raise it above the ordinary thriller.
Now the DVD of this book is popular, let's have comparison between it and the book. The movie adds a few things, changes some trivial elements around story-wise, and the ending is slightly different. Plus, the movie leaves the ending with much more speculation instead of the finality the novel has with a certain subject. The book is an easy read. It goes fairly quickly, the book's pacing for revealing certain plot twists is done better than the movie. Dan Brown's writing style is special, how he melds the puzzle elements together is really quite clever.
Target readers:
General readers.
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Dan Brown is the author of numerous #1 bestsellers, including Digital Fortress, Angels & Demons, and Deception Point. His acclaimed novel - The Da Vinci Code - has become one of the most widely read books of all time.
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An ingenious code hidden in the works of Leonardo da Vinci.
A desperate race through the cathedrals and castles of Europe.
An astonishing truth concealed for centuries . . . unveiled at last.
While in Paris, Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon is awakened by a phone call in the dead of the night. The elderly curator of the Louvre has been murdered inside the museum, his body covered in baffling symbols. As Langdon and gifted French cryptologist Sophie Neveu sort through the bizarre riddles, they are stunned to discover a trail of clues hidden in the works of Leonardo da Vinci-clues visible for all to see and yet ingeniously disguised by the painter.
Even more startling, the late curator was involved in the Priory of Sion-a secret society whose members included Sir Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo, and Da Vinci-and he guarded a breathtaking historical secret. Unless Langdon and Neveu can decipher the labyrinthine puzzle-while avoiding the faceless adversary who shadows their every move-the explosive, ancient truth will be lost forever.
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Robert Langdon awoke slowly.
A telephone was ringing in the darkness-a tinny, unfamiliar ring. He fumbled for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Squinting at his surroundings he saw a plush Renaissance bedroom with Louis XVI furniture, hand-frescoed walls, and a colossal mahogany four-poster bed.
Where the hell am I?
The jacquard bathrobe hanging on his bedpost bore the monogram:
HOTEL RITZ PARIS.
Slowly, the fog began to lift.
Langdon picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Monsieur Langdon?" a man's voice said. "I hope I have not awoken you?"
Dazed, Langdon looked at the bedside clock. It was 12:32 A.M. He had been asleep only an hour, but he felt like the dead.
"This is the concierge, monsieur. I apologize for this intrusion, but you have a visitor. He insists it is urgent."
Langdon still felt fuzzy. A visitor? His eyes focused now on a crumpled flyer on his bedside table.
THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY OF PARIS
proudly presents
An evening with Robert Langdon
Professor of Religious Symbology, Harvard University
Langdon groaned. Tonight's lecture--a slide show about pagan symbolism hidden in the stones of Chartres Cathedral--had probably ruffled some conservative feathers in the audience. Most likely, some religious scholar had trailed him home to pick a fight.
"I'm sorry," Langdon said, "but I'm very tired and--"
"Mais monsieur," the concierge pressed, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. "Your guest is an important man."
Langdon had little doubt. His books on religious paintings and cult symbology had made him a reluctant celebrity in the art world, and last year Langdon's visibility had increased a hundred-fold after his involvement in a widely publicized incident at the Vatican. Since then, the stream of self-important historians and art buffs arriving at his door had seemed never-ending.
"If you would be so kind," Langdon said, doing his best to remain polite, "could you take the man's name and number, and tell him I'll try to call him before I leave Paris on Tuesday? Thank you." He hung up before the concierge could protest.
Sitting up now, Langdon frowned at his bedside Guest Relations Handbook, whose cover boasted: SLEEP LIKE A BABY IN THE CITY OF LIGHTS. SLUMBER AT THE PARIS RITZ.
He turned and gazed tiredly into the full-length mirror across the room. The man staring back at him was a stranger--tousled and weary.
You need a vacation, Robert.
The past year had taken a heavy toll on him, but he didn't appreciate seeing proof in the mirror. His usually sharp blue eyes looked hazy and drawn tonight. A dark stubble was shrouding his strong jaw and dimpled chin. Around his temples, the gray highlights were advancing, making their way deeper into his thicket of coarse black hair. Although his female colleagues insisted the gray only accentuated his bookish appeal, Langdon knew better.
If Boston Magazine could see me now.
Last month, much to Langdon's embarrassment, Boston Magazine had listed him as one of that city's top ten most intriguing people--a dubious honor that made him the brunt of endless ribbing by his Harvard colleagues. Tonight, three thousand miles from home, the accolade had resurfaced to haunt him at the lecture he had given.
"Ladies and gentlemen . . ." the hostess had announced to a full-house at The American University of Paris's Pavillon Dauphine, "Our guest tonight needs no introduction. He is the author of numerous books: The Symbology of Secret Sects, The Art of the Illuminati, The Lost Language of Ideograms, and when I say he wrote the book on Religious Iconology, I mean that quite literally. Many of you use his textbooks in class."
The students in the crowd nodded enthusiastically.
"I had planned to introduce him tonight by sharing his impressive curriculum vitae, however . . ." She glanced playfully at Langdon, who was seated onstage. "An audience member has just handed me a far more, shall we say . . . intriguing introduction."
She held up a copy of Boston Magazine.
Langdon cringed. Where the hell did she get that?
The hostess began reading choice excerpts from the inane article, and Langdon felt himself sinking lower and lower in his chair. Thirty seconds later, the crowd was grinning, and the woman showed no signs of letting up. "And Mr. Langdon's refusal to speak publicly about his unusual role in last year's Vatican conclave certainly wins him points on our intrigue-o-meter." The hostess goaded the crowd. "Would you like to hear more?"
The crowd applauded.
Somebody stop her, Langdon pleaded as she dove into the article again.
"Although Professor Langdon might not be considered hunk-handsome like some of our younger awardees, this forty-something academic has more than his share of scholarly allure. His captivating presence is punctuated by an unusually low, baritone speaking voice, which his female students describe as 'chocolate for the ears.''
The hall erupted in laughter.
Langdon forced an awkward smile. He knew what came next--some ridiculous line about "Harrison Ford in Harris tweed"--and because this evening he had figured it was finally safe again to wear his Harris tweed and Burberry turtleneck, he decided to take action.
"Thank you, Monique," Langdon said, standing prematurely and edging her away from the podium. "Boston Magazine clearly has a gift for fiction." He turned to the audience with an embarrassed sigh. "And if I find which one of you provided that article, I'll have the consulate deport you."
The crowd laughed.
"Well, folks, as you all know, I'm here tonight to talk about the power of symbols . . ."
* * *
The ringing of Langdon's hotel phone once again broke the silence.
Groaning in disbelief, he picked up. "Yes?"
As expected, it was the concierge. "Mr. Langdon, again my apologies. I am calling to inform you that your guest is now en route to your room. I thought I should alert you."
Langdon was wide awake now. "You sent someone to my room?"
"I apologize, monsieur, but a man like this . . . I cannot presume the authority to stop him."
"Who exactly is he?"
But the concierge was gone.
Almost immediately, a heavy fist pounded on Langdon's door.
Uncertain, Langdon slid off the bed, feeling his toes sink deep into the savonniere carpet. He donned the hotel bathrobe and moved toward the door. "Who is it?"
"Mr. Langdon? I need to speak with you." The man's English was accented--a sharp, authoritative bark. "My name is Lieutenant Jerome Collet. Direction Centrale Police Judiciaire."
Langdon paused. The Judicial Police? The DCPJ were the rough equivalent of the U.S. FBI.
Leaving the security chain in place, Langdon opened the door a few inches. The face staring back at him was thin and washed out. The man was exceptionally lean, dressed in an official-looking blue uniform.
"May I come in?" the agent asked.
Langdon hesitated, feeling uncertain as the stranger's sallow eyes studied him. "What is this is all about?"
"My capitaine requires your expertise in a private matter."
"Now?" Langdon managed. "It's after midnight."
"Am I correct that you were scheduled to meet with curator of the Louvre this evening? "
Langdon felt a sudden surge of uneasiness. He and the revered curator Jacques Saunière had been slated to meet for drinks after Langdon's lecture tonight, but Saunière had never shown up. "Yes. How did you know that?"
"We found your name in his daily planner."
"I trust nothing is wrong?"
The agent gave a dire sigh and slid a Polaroid snapshot through the narrow opening in the door.
When Langdon saw the photo, his entire body went rigid.
"This photo was taken less than an hour ago. Inside the Louvre."
As Langdon stared at the bizarre image, his initial revulsion and shock gave way to a sudden upwelling of anger. "Who would do this!"
"We had hoped that you might help us answer that very question. Considering your knowledge in symbology and your plans to meet with him."
Langdon stared at the picture, his horror now laced with fear. The image was gruesome and profoundly strange, bringing with it an unsettling sense of deja vu. A little over a year ago, Langdon had received a photograph of a corpse and a similar request for help. Twenty-four hours later, he had almost lost his life inside Vatican City. This photo was entirely different, and yet something about the scenario felt disquietingly familiar.
The agent checked his watch. "My captain is waiting, sir."
Langdon barely heard him. His eyes were still riveted on the picture. "This symbol here, and the way his body is so oddly . . ."
"Positioned?" the agent offered.
Langdon nodded, feeling a chill as he looked up. "I can't imagine who would do this to someone."
The agent looked grim. "You don't understand, Mr. Langdon. What you see in this photograph . . ." He paused. "Monsieur Saunière did that to himself."
2
One mile away, the hulking albino named Silas limped through the front gate of the luxurious brownstone residence on Rue la Bruyere. The spiked cilice belt that he wore around his thigh cut into his flesh, and yet his soul sang with satisfaction of service to the Lord.
Pain is good.
His red eyes scanned the lobby as he entered...
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Virginia Moriarty (MSL quote), Wisconsin
<2007-01-05 00:00>
The Da Vinci Code is fast-paced and exciting, and written in an easy and engaging style. It appears somewhat influenced by Hollywood, with its characterization and slightly disbelief-suspending plot. The main characters seem to be able to get out of every situation, surviving life-threatening encounters so often that you start to believe them to be untouchable rather than smart-thinking.
The concept of a secret code is based on the gnostic gospels, and the book characterizes Catholicism in a less-than-favorable light, glorifying Langdon and Neveu, the investigators and protagonists, as heroes. Because of this, it can be seen as offensive. However, with such a fictional style as this, it is hard to take Brown wholly seriously in his claims.
An easy and enjoyable read; an interesting concept but one that I would only explore with imagination.
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K. Fontenot (MSL quote), Southwest Louisiana
<2007-01-05 00:00>
Three-and-a-half stars.
Dan Brown may not be the greatest literary force of the modern world, but he can sure generate controversy (and book sales) with his writing. He takes the literal Holy Grail of all Holy Grails and thrusts it into a web of deceit and treason by way of the historically-questioned Priory of Scion and the Catholic Church.
The basics of the story are that four essential members of the Priory have been murdered, an American professor, Robert Langdon, has been framed for their murder, and pretty much all of France is after him. He is aided by a French cryptologist, Sophie Neveu. He's being chased by a number of people (including a misguided, albino monk) and seeks out the help of others in hopes to prove his innocence. As the story barrels along at a very quick pace, it is determined that the answer to everyone's problems lies with the discovery of the Holy Grail.
I won't go into the numerous inaccuracies of Brown's revised history. I won't bother with the whole Christianity vs. Dan Brown aspect either. Just realize that this book is FICTION. If you base your soul's destiny on a work of fiction, God help you. If you base your arguments of why Christianity (Catholicism in particular in this book) is false, controversial, etc. on this book, then you have no weight to your arguments. This is fiction and nothing else. I sometimes wonder that had the Christian community kept quiet about this book, then perhaps it wouldn't have garnered the attention that it has received.
In short, The Da Vinci Code is nothing more than an above average adventure/mystery that ranks somewhere between the tech-heavy Clive Cussler books and the scientifically exciting Steve Alten "Meg" series. Brown manipulates history and, in some cases, completely fabricates facts to move his story along. In college, I was always told that when writing something, you should always write about what you know. Brown seems to have done a little research on his "Code" subject, but he eventually gave in to fabrication in order to make his story the controversy that it has become.
Would I read it again? Probably not. Would I suggest it to others? Sure, if you enjoy fast-paced, easily digested thrillers. Mildly recommended.
P.S. In case you're wondering, I am a Catholic who decided to read this book just to see what the entire ruckus was about. I still believe that Jesus is my Savior and I still believe that He never married Mary Magdelene or had any offspring with her (or any other woman for that matter).
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Jana L. Perskie (MSL quote), New York, NY USA
<2007-01-05 00:00>
Once I began this extraordinary book, I could not put it down. The Da Vinci Code is so much more than a gripping suspense thriller. Dan Brown takes us beyond the main plot and leads us on a quest for the Holy Grail - a Grail totally unlike anything we have been taught to believe. With his impeccable research, Mr. Brown introduces us to aspects and interpretations of Western history and Christianity that I, for one, had never known existed...or even thought about. I found myself, unwillingly, leaving the novel, and time and time again, going online to research Brown's research - only to find a new world of historic possibilities opening up for me. And my quest for knowledge and the answers to questions that the book poses paralleled, in a sense, the quest of the book's main characters. What a trip! What a read!
A violent murder is committed in the Louvre Museum. The museum's chief curator, who is also the head of a remarkable secret society that has existed since the death of Christ, is found dead and gruesomely positioned on the floor near The Mona Lisa. In the minutes before he died, this very complex man was able to leave clues for his daughter to follow. The daughter, a brilliant cryptographer, along with a famed US symbologist, follow her father's codes and leads, hoping that he will, through his death, finally tell her what he wanted to confide in her while he lived. The secret society included members such as: Leonardo Da Vinci, Boticelli, Gallileo, Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo, Jean Cocteau, etc. These folks really Did belong to this society, which Really existed! This is when I first began my online search.
The mysteries, or mysteries, take us through England, France and far back in time. We learn about the secret of the Knights Templar, and the symbolism in many of the world's most treasured paintings, as well as architectural symbolism in some of history's most sacred churches. Of course, we also learn who committed the murder and why - although this is almost secondary next to the real epic mystery the novel uncovers.
If there are flaws in the plot, I was too busy reading to discover any. That is probably the sign of a terrific book! The writing is excellent and the characters are a bit on the super-hero/heroine side, but who cares? Is what The Da Vinci Code proposes true? Well, the research is correct. The historical events and people explored in the book are real. But no one knows the Truth...nor will we ever, probably. I think that some things are meant to be a mystery. With all the world's diverse religions and each individual's belief in what is Divine - the Truth would have to destroy the beliefs, hopes and lives of many of the world's population. So, perhaps, in the divine scheme of things, there are many more Truths than one. Don't take the book too seriously. Just read it and enjoy!
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Steven Reynolds (MSL quote), Sydney, Australia
<2007-01-05 00:00>
Seventy pages into Dan Brown's surprisingly put-downable potboiler, the inevitably green-eyed, French-accented code cracker Sophie Neveu sighs, "This is not American television, Mr Langdon." Oh, Sophie, if only that were true. You know a book owes too much to the screen when an albino assassin appears on the very first page, and rather than taking the time to construct an original variant on the intelligent-action-man hero you're simply instructed to think of Harrison Ford - in tweed. This is a movie, pure and simple: a thinly plotted, strongly visual, mildly entertaining Hollywood chase movie about cardboard characters (replete with sappy childhood flashbacks) and with enough Opus Dei-bashing to make it a fast-acting antidote to "The Passion of the Christ." Crammed full of supposedly arcane revelations about mathematics, religion, symbolism and art - most of which read like verbatim downloads from Google - the "intellectual" content won't be dazzling or new (forget accurate) to anyone even slightly inquisitive about these topics. Worse, it's presented with a juvenile fascination for "connections" that would embarrass the most seasoned New Age charlatan. It all moves at a cracking pace, of course, and has enough scope and colour to hold your rapt attention for a few winter nights, and enough Catholic conspiracy theory to warm the heart of an atheist. But it's so devoid of literary merit, so apparently committed to the squandering of every opportunity to do anything interesting with the material - rather than just ape the narrative grammar of cinema - that it truly beggars belief. The characters are just names on the page, huge swathes of deadpan "I'm glad you asked"-style exposition pad out the clunky plot shifts, and because it's all so closely modeled on the rhythms of Hollywood nothing ever comes as a surprise - not a word, not an image, not a moment. This is post-literate prose at its direst, plugging directly into pre-fabricated scenarios, characters and images, absolving the reader of the need to imagine anything - which is why it's such a famously easy read. This is reality as a simulacrum of television, a copy of a copy, and about as convincing. It's an odd stylistic choice in a novel which takes as its theme the notion that great art depicts truths which evil empires would suppress. My advice? Save your time, and wait for the movie, i.e. wait until this story is presented in its natural form. I'm actually really looking forward to it. Seriously. I quite like the story, I just dislike the way it's presented here. It's fundamentally a puerile novel, but as a Hollywood movie I'm sure I'll be tickled by it. In the mean time, if you want to read the kind of novel this purports to be, get yourself a copy of Umberto Eco's "The Name of the Rose" or, better yet, "Foucault's Pendulum". If those don't grab you, at the very least try Donna Tartt's "The Secret History" - nothing to do with the Grail, but it's certainly more deserving of the "intelligent thriller" label than this. Is there really nothing better to be said for The Da Vinci Code, as novel? Sadly, I'm with Harrison - I mean Robert: "Langdon considered it a moment, then groaned." |
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