Unless
you’re interested in esoteric 13th century debates on religion, such
as did Jesus ever laugh and did Jesus own his clothes, then this is not the
book for you—or me, for that matter. I
thought this was going to be a murder mystery, and it is, to some degree, but
that aspect of the novel is buried in unending discussions of what constitutes
religious heresy. This novel is very
long with reams of inscrutable allusions, incomprehensible vocabulary, and lots
of untranslated Latin passages. I can’t
help wondering if some of my issues with this book are actually with the
translator, William Weaver, but I’m certainly not going to read it again, if,
in fact, another translation exists. The
action takes place in an Italian monastery, and the main character is Brother
William of Baskerville, who has a Sherlock-Holmes-like knack for interpreting
clues in the mysterious deaths of several monks. William is the mentor for our young narrator,
Adso, who tags along on William’s week-long investigation of the monastery, as
the body count rises. Several startling
facts come to light, including the periodic visits by a woman, the
more-than-brotherly affection between several monks, and the extreme
inaccessibility of the library. There is
more than one history lesson here, but I found most of the historical discussions
too dense for me to really grasp. I did
gather that Pope John XXII and Holy Roman Emperor Louis IV were seriously at
odds, and the monks aligned themselves with one or the other, but I couldn’t
keep up with who believed what. There
are the Minorites, the Fraticelli, the Dolcinians, the Catharists, the
Cluniacs—just to name a few factions. At
one point, Adso’s response to a monk’s description of one of the sects is “What
a complicated story.” My sentiments
exactly.
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