Inferno by Dan Brown
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
Dan Brown’s Inferno is not the worst book I’ve ever read, nor do I want Dan Brown to stop writing. He can go on putting “words” on “pages” and get paid millions, that’s fine. I’ll probably even read them. I can’t help myself. It’s like eating food I don’t like when I’m already full—some kind of deep self-loathing compels me.
So take this review with a grain of salt, for I, like so many others, went into Inferno expecting it to be bad. Wish fulfilled. Nevertheless, this time I decided to “admit” that for all of his poor sentence craft, flat characters, and documentary-style over-explaining, at least he writes a mean plot. Right? Nope, not even that, this time.
If you’ve read his other novels, there’s nothing new here. This is Angels and Demons set in Florence. This is The DaVinci Code about Dante. This is The Lost Symbol for The Overpopulation Problem. Same old same old: short time span, bewildered geniuses solving “puzzles” in the nick of time, disfigured villains, architecture-packed backdrops. I guess that’s good news for people who love Dan Brown’s stuff.
Although, this time, there’s really no point it. The “puzzles” are arbitrary, ham-handed. The plot “twists” are so contrived I was wincing and laughing out loud at the same time. The characters spend a few days running around Keystone-cops style, and in the end (VAGUE SPOILER ALERT) it’s for nothing. Nothing at all. Time utterly wasted.
Maybe that’s Dan Brown’s genius. Readers, too, will spend a few days getting to the end and will have wasted their time. Then again, you could say that about any novel, even good ones, right? The angst of the idle class, wasting our time reading books when there’s a world out there to explore. You know, the one Dan Brown gushes over in pandering detail, all those paintings and sculptures and churches he describes.
So go ahead, read Inferno, give Dan Brown more money. He doesn’t need it, but then if we didn’t pay, the publishers would stop giving is more. So it’s our own fault. Brown’s not the problem—it his readers, people like me, who are the problem. Oh well. I wonder what’s on TV tonight?
Just joking. I know exactly what’s on TV tonight.