I always loved Umberto Eco. On Literature, was a guide of masterly work on literature. In the Name of the Rose, the selection of articles. It always felt great to encounter such a writer, more of a philosopher. When I met him in Jerusalem, it was a disappointment. To start with, seeing him in a setting that is politically contradictory.
Anyway, it felt like a relief, one writer down, after all, I don’t have to read him anymore.
IT was a pity though; I had some of the books on my shelves waiting to be read. I left in the name o the rose, and I refused to get the Prague cemetery.
He died, and I felt guilty…
I started reading Foucault’s Pendulum as books were invading my audio reading space. 600 pages of a journey through everything. How can one man write all these ideas with all these characters with such in-depth and a continuous flow of information in one piece of literature with such a complex and not easy to catch with the plot, taking into consideration the extensive knowledge and characters throughout the novel. With every line, you feel the lightness of the soul of the person who wrote. Cynical, thoughtful and critical and a lot to learn and catch as the pages turn.
Among the critiques of this specific work is its resemblance to Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code. Not much needed to be explained when Eco said that Brown was one of the characters in this novel.
The way conspiracy thinking merges with such a plot that never escapes the reader brilliantly, makes the distinguished expression of what it means to be a writer in the size of Umberto Eco. The superior expertise in using the language, blending it with extensive information from all direction, and keeping the thrill and excitement with each line.
Foucault’s Pendulum is not a piece of Arts in writing fiction, but a continuation of a school of philosophy that is orchestrated by masters.