The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown

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.

Why I Picked It Up

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Dan Brown is everywhere, obviously. As a writer, I aspire for my own book to be elevated to this level. No matter what literary thrill you perceive in your own work (if you're gatekeep-y like that), one of my fundamental goals is to write beautifully and accessibly enough to be able to receive the financial benefit of being able to do more of it without needing to worry about anything else. Basically: pay me to do what I would do already for free. Thus, I long to someday achieve this kind of global phenomenon: airport bookstores, adaptation, green lights.

It's absolutely miraculous that The Da Vinci Code has not somehow been spoiled for me already in my 27 years of life, but I specifically saved it for a rainy day read and avoided watching the movie or reading it until I was in the proper mood for sheer escapism. I actually heard rumors it wasn't all that well-written (and was pleasantly surprised it was much stronger than I expected.) All in all, it was the perfect read for the right mood: a stormy day, power out, wanting enjoyment and puzzle and thrill.

What It's About

In case you're unfamiliar, the book (series, now—the announcement for a new installment releasing this fall actually came out as I was reading) is about a professor of religious symbolism, Robert Langdon, who is called in the middle of the night to the Louvre by the French police because the dying curator chose to leave a message for him in blood in his final moments. The murder scene itself is bizarre: a code, the way the body was arranged, the circumstances. Worse, Langdon was supposed to meet up with him earlier that night, but had been blown off.

As Langdon and the officials puzzle over the hidden and visible meanings of the clues the curator's left behind, the young French cryptologist Sophie Neve arrives with a message and a ticking clock: Langdon's in danger.

The resulting night is a race against time to unravel the clues left behind—which have to do with the Priory of Sion, a secret society tasked with guarding one of mankind's biggest secrets—before the killers do.

Pace, Voice, and Atmosphere

Admittedly, I had no idea this book took place over the course of a night. Normally, I find 24-hour stories to lack depth, but that wasn't my experience here.

It felt tense and rich without losing a realistic view of the hours passing, which I appreciated; there's definite narrative skill in pacing, which held up for the most part—with the exception of a picky moment or two in the book club section below.

The writing style is relatively straightforward, so I can understand why certain descriptions might have made others warn me it was basic. I personally believe there's skill in writing clear, that the story made up for any weakness in the little things (corny dialogue and the like—things I'm way too picky about), and that the plot made up for just about everything else. Although I love dissecting craft, I also think that means identifying what within a book makes it strong, and Brown's strengths were obvious! So I thought the writing was great.

A twist or two definitely shocked me. I tended to anticipate the thriller aspects because they're familiar to other plots by now, but not the deeper religious/artistic/secret society mystery, which was the main curiosity propelling me to read.

The global intrigue and atmosphere were fabulous. I've been so grateful to be out in nature and the outdoors—and am convinced I need to be surrounded by natural beauty to be happy after reading The Nature Fix—but a book like this is what makes me itchy for the thrill, routine, and (dare I say?) pretension of more established circles and cities. It made me crave that cosmopolitan Paris/New York/Rome/London landscape, and definitely made me nostalgic for what little I got to see of Europe when solo-traveling in October. A peacoat and tights. A chocolate mousse or tiramisu. A murder mystery. Who's to say?

I Relished the Symbolism & History Puzzles

I was a history major and an art minor, which I frequently correct as being not an art history major—the common confusion.

I am not personally a fan of museums, but I do enjoy art history, especially narrated by those so passionate about the artists or subjects. One of my closest friends, Ali, works in the Old Masters department at Sotheby's, and listening to her give tours is just so unbelievably rewarding. (She radiates in those conversations, and I find them endlessly fascinating.)

Fiction about art history, symbolism, and the like tends to have the same effect for me. Related narratives tend to be so rich and sensory in a way that practically assures I'll enjoy the book (like The Art Forger by B.A. Shapiro.) You just get this gratifying feeling that you could sink into them.

The book's topics actually reminded me of this impossibly complex religion class I took my freshman year of college, in which I was completely out of my depth — Gender, the Body, and Sexuality in Western Religions (whoah.) I did just finish Nature, Man, and Woman by Alan Watts which was similarly dizzying in its subject matter—about ecstasy, enmeshment, metaphors of unification, the whirling dervishes, patriarchy, why it matters that God's canonically male, etc,. The book goes so deep topically in that intersection, which I hadn't been expecting, and gives such gravitas to the role that metaphors play within our daily life (which echoes a lot of the nonfiction I've been reading too.)

The Da Vinci Code was sharper and insightful than I expected for the amount of people who call it "pulpy," and I definitely judged the book by its cover or popularity in assuming it wouldn't be as nuanced or perceptive as I personally found it to be. Maybe some commentary was more or less intentional than we thought.

I'd absolutely love to read an analysis of the claims made in The Da Vinci Code—which theories make a good yarn and what scholars think. But Dan Brown was absolutely convincing with all his arguments between various characters as they deconstructed clues.

I somehow wasn't expecting the motifs and layers of The Da Vinci Code to be as involved as they were. Maybe because it's in many way the blueprint for similar mysteries I've encountered now; surely, I would have encountered the twists and reveals by now, diluted in other works. Again: pleasantly surprising, and enormously detailed.

The riddles were more complicated than I expected without feeling unnecessarily muddled, so the plot was extremely satisfying for my brain, and the tension appropriately darkened and tightened throughout.

The Characterization Wasn't Black-or-White

I didn't much feel like I got to know Robert Langdon or Sophie all that well, but it is part of a series with many installments, so that wasn't exactly a problem for me. (I did roll my eyes at how Sophie is basically a cardboard cutout in many ways, but of course they kiss at the end, because she's hot and thirty.) The nature of these kinds of works though!

One aspect I adored about the protagonists and antagonists though—which helped contribute to the intensity of the novel—was how, even when you completely disagreed with their methods, you completely understood the logic, reasoning, and philosophies that led each character to their choices.

I will die on this hill, but the best conflicts in fiction aren't those with a clear right or wrong, but rather are about competing worldviews clashing and deciding who to root for. I changed my mind several times on what was justified and why, so there are some broader questions about the ends vs. the means and intention vs. execution to coax out here.

I love commercial fiction, but it's often cited that commercial tends to be more about plot while literary fiction tends to be more about character—meaning you're more likely to find flattening in the prior. But The Da Vinci Code was pleasantly nuanced in characterization, specifically in regards to motivation. It satisfyingly wrapped up threads while letting others—about these more undercurrent internal questions—linger with the reader.

Overall Thoughts

Overall, I devoured The Da Vinci Code. I fully thought it was the first in the series, so will have to go back to read Angels & Demons. I don't know whether I'll read the full series, but could absolutely see myself sinking into another installment, especially now that I know how thorough and deep the research behind it feels. In Canada every summer, I tend to read either frothy beach reads or "dark and stormy" escapism for vacation, and this one absolutely fits the bill for the latter.

I'll watch the movie next time I'm feeling particularly cinematic (for that rich academic feel), and I can appreciate why this one blew up so much. It's always such a fabulous surprise when a highly-hyped novel strikes me like a fan.

It also made me absolutely yearn to be in Paris again, and made me crave that cliché European texture of a setting. So: expect a travel piece or two to go up soon.

For fans of:

24 (TV); A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness; True Detective (TV); Jennifer Lynn Barnes; National Treasure (movie); etc,.

Let's Book Club for a Second (Me Being Picky)

• Some reveals felt purposefully delayed within dialogue for the sake of the reader (which didn't feel entirely natural.) Ex: it would make more sense for the character to go ahead and say what he needed to, but it was obvious that Brown delayed them sharing info just because it was more convenient for his reveal. So that took me out a little bit. Largely minor.
• Similarly, some of the reveals felt like the characters should have known them already? For example, someone would reveal a key piece of info related to the mystery and another character would flash back to that exact thing they'd previously studied and be like, "Ah yes! They're connected!" And it's like: dude, you're literally a scholar in this topic and studied all this. Of course they're connected but you definitely knew this already, so the surprise is purely for reader benefit. Similarly, Sophie absolutely should have picked up on a few clues as a code-breaker before other characters pointed them out to her. But the same goes for Langdon and Teabing insights.
• The betrayals seemed really obvious, with the exception of one (which was incredible.) When they walked into the courtyard, I got chills.
• It seemed really silly and far-fetched to me that Langdon hadn't pieced together that the Louvre caretaker weirdly obsessed with the divine feminine might be a member of this secret society all about this divine feminine, especially once he revealed that his book dissected this exact mystery.
• Them not thinking that the armored car from the secret, locked-down Swiss bank might have a tracking device in it seemed so wild to me.
• Similarly, Sophie was silly about phone tracking. Once, she said to keep it under a minute so the call wouldn't be tracked. But then in the beginning, she allowed Langdon to call the "Embassy" and gave him the code on the supposedly-antagonistic cop's phone, which would definitely be easy for him to duplicate? And later, she's on a call that's easily tracked. So the logic here felt a little inconsistent.
• Maybe I'm too modern for this to hit the way it's supposed to, but Sophie going no-contact with her grandfather—her solely living family—because she walked into him having sex in front of a bunch of people chanting around the couple felt excessive. Like okay: he might have a creepy or exhibitionnist/orgy kink that made you suuuuper uncomfortable to walk in on, but I'd probably just be like "Okay, that was terrible to witness and know about. But you're not hurting anyone, so I do love you enough to want you as my family even though I can never look at you the same way again? Girl, you're an orphan. I guess I was expecting it to be so much worse—like ritual killings, or the entire group going at it, or something a little bit more. Like: it's not for me to judge you for your sexual preferences, even when they're not my cup of tea, unless they're nonconsenting, abusive, or in other ways hurtful. Idk.
• I appreciated the way the narrative tackled Silas and the bishop. It seemed to lend them a lot of grace and consideration that gave weight to their beliefs without excusing them from the consequences of their actions, so really thoughtfully handled the motivations. The only one I wasn't sympathetic towards was Remy.
• I did go in circles a bit about whether or not the Priory wanted the Mary Magdalene secrets revealed, and what exactly was resolved there. I wasn't expecting Sophie to be reunited with family so LOVED that, but thought some of the points around the Christianity reveal to be a little circular or confusing.