Umberto Eco, The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana

Umberto Eco, The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana.

Umberto Eco is such a genius--see, for example, his texts on semiotics--that it seems unfair that he should even be able to write novels. The facts that they are brilliant, critically acclaimed, and that at least one has been turned into a well-regarded film* just makes it crueler. He has even written a book called History of Beauty. I want to be him.

The Mysterious Flame was another Christmas present, a huge hardback tome peppered with full-color illustrations. It was, predictably, erudite, esoteric, and highly literate. Unlike Foucault's Pendulum and The Name of the Rose, however, I didn't find it particularly entertaining; at times, it was a veritable slog. Still, it did have its moments... and one less-than-riveting novel from this brilliant polymath is small consolation.

*The Name of the Rose, with Sean Connery, which I haven't yet seen.