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A review by shandyt
The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
4.0
4.5 stars.
I can understand why many reviewers complain that they had trouble parsing the dense text, full as it is of theological and philosophical musings, indulgently long lists, untranslated Latin, etc., but I had a great time with this book—even though I was listening to the audiobook, without the benefit of the Latin phrase glossary or the illustrations which I understand are included in the print copy. Though I speak no Romance languages, there are enough context clues and cognates that I could usually figure out the gist of what was being said. I find that I don't always need to comprehend what the characters are talking about, as long as I am convinced the author knows what he's talking about (and I was definitely convinced). More, the denseness appealed to me. I grew up with a Lutheran background, and went through catechism as a teen, so all the theological jargon hit in a familiar way. Even though I am now irreligious and dislike being preached at (Brent Weeks, I'm looking at you), I was able to suspend those feelings to read Name of the Rose for what it is: a mystery set firmly in 14th-century monasticism. Of course you're going to get preached at a little. At least this book is honest about it. I did wonder how the book would handle what are today some pretty sensitive matters, such as, but honestly it was not as bad as I was afraid of, especially for an Italian book written in the eighties. Being monks, most of the side characters' attitudes are about what you'd expect, but deuteragonist William of Ockham brings a charming liberality and gentleness to the scene. That facet of his character is not so surprising, given that he is an homage to Sherlock Holmes, who could also be quite kind at times.
Here there be spoilers:
-For the star of the show, I feel like the library itself was a little underutilized. A labyrinth is such an interesting concept for a library! Reading about it, even if I couldn't picture it, was so cool! I wanted twice as much of it as what we got.
-I was not as much a fan of the reveal at the ending as I was of the rest. Jorge being the villain, I definitely saw coming, as well as the mechanism of the poisoning—I recalled the bit about the monks in the Scriptorium licking their fingers to turn the pages almost as soon as the black fingers clue came up. But to have the whole thing be about Jorge's irrational hatred/fear of comedy? I don't know, I feel like the fact that it was the last extant copy of a work by Aristotle should have been played up more than the subject matter and his objections to it. The reveal that Jorge was the unknown former librarian also came a little late in the game for my tastes.
-The library burning down was a real bummer, as well as the almost careless mention of William dying in the plague. However, the epilogue does feel accurate to how a medieval monk might chronicle his life, in its bland, just-the-facts candor. My only complaint is that it's a bit jarring after the richness of the tale itself.
-William was great. Every time Adso asked him about a tricky issue, William would respond with the prescribed bit of hardline theology, but then he'd qualify it with a far more sensible "But here's what I think." Delightful.
-It wasn't until I'd finished the book that I realized 'Adso' sounds rather like 'Watson'. Very sneaky. Honestly, some of the names of the monks in this book were so interesting that I wished we still used them, especially the Saxon ones.
-Bernard Gui was also perfectly characterized. What a effective job Eco did in painting him as a sinister scumbag. At first I pictured Frollo from Disney's Hunchback, but then I learned F. Murray Abraham (Salieri in Amadeus) played Bernard Gui in the movie, and now I can't imagine otherwise.
-Poor, poor nameless woman. Alas; we hardly knew ye.
-I found the sectarian politics between monastic orders fascinating, and doubly so when I learned that the conflict, and even many of the characters, were real.
-It is a little disappointing that the 'murder mystery' comes down to mostly random, only semi-related events. I would have preferred that there was indeed some apocalyptic murderous intent behind the deaths.
I can understand why many reviewers complain that they had trouble parsing the dense text, full as it is of theological and philosophical musings, indulgently long lists, untranslated Latin, etc., but I had a great time with this book—even though I was listening to the audiobook, without the benefit of the Latin phrase glossary or the illustrations which I understand are included in the print copy. Though I speak no Romance languages, there are enough context clues and cognates that I could usually figure out the gist of what was being said. I find that I don't always need to comprehend what the characters are talking about, as long as I am convinced the author knows what he's talking about (and I was definitely convinced). More, the denseness appealed to me. I grew up with a Lutheran background, and went through catechism as a teen, so all the theological jargon hit in a familiar way. Even though I am now irreligious and dislike being preached at (Brent Weeks, I'm looking at you), I was able to suspend those feelings to read Name of the Rose for what it is: a mystery set firmly in 14th-century monasticism. Of course you're going to get preached at a little. At least this book is honest about it. I did wonder how the book would handle what are today some pretty sensitive matters, such as
Spoiler
the treatment of the queer monks, and the brutalization of womenHere there be spoilers:
Spoiler
-For the star of the show, I feel like the library itself was a little underutilized. A labyrinth is such an interesting concept for a library! Reading about it, even if I couldn't picture it, was so cool! I wanted twice as much of it as what we got.
-I was not as much a fan of the reveal at the ending as I was of the rest. Jorge being the villain, I definitely saw coming, as well as the mechanism of the poisoning—I recalled the bit about the monks in the Scriptorium licking their fingers to turn the pages almost as soon as the black fingers clue came up. But to have the whole thing be about Jorge's irrational hatred/fear of comedy? I don't know, I feel like the fact that it was the last extant copy of a work by Aristotle should have been played up more than the subject matter and his objections to it. The reveal that Jorge was the unknown former librarian also came a little late in the game for my tastes.
-The library burning down was a real bummer, as well as the almost careless mention of William dying in the plague. However, the epilogue does feel accurate to how a medieval monk might chronicle his life, in its bland, just-the-facts candor. My only complaint is that it's a bit jarring after the richness of the tale itself.
-William was great. Every time Adso asked him about a tricky issue, William would respond with the prescribed bit of hardline theology, but then he'd qualify it with a far more sensible "But here's what I think." Delightful.
-It wasn't until I'd finished the book that I realized 'Adso' sounds rather like 'Watson'. Very sneaky. Honestly, some of the names of the monks in this book were so interesting that I wished we still used them, especially the Saxon ones.
-Bernard Gui was also perfectly characterized. What a effective job Eco did in painting him as a sinister scumbag. At first I pictured Frollo from Disney's Hunchback, but then I learned F. Murray Abraham (Salieri in Amadeus) played Bernard Gui in the movie, and now I can't imagine otherwise.
-Poor, poor nameless woman. Alas; we hardly knew ye.
-I found the sectarian politics between monastic orders fascinating, and doubly so when I learned that the conflict, and even many of the characters, were real.
-It is a little disappointing that the 'murder mystery' comes down to mostly random, only semi-related events. I would have preferred that there was indeed some apocalyptic murderous intent behind the deaths.