Most Helpful Customer Reviews
|
|
31 of 37 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Great Thriller, 14 May 2009
I decided to re-read A&D before going to see it at the cinema (I still think it is stronger than The Da Vinci Codewith more intrigue and suspense) I look forward to reading The Lost Symbol. Will be interesting to see how the 'parachute scene' is incorporated into the movie, which I am really looking forward to seeing. All in all this is an exciting thriller, mixing the mysteries of the Vatican and the world of Physics. Always interesting to read about the holes in the research but best just to switch off and enjoy as a good piece of fiction.From a Brit's perspective, If only Hollywood would have a go at Full Story Insideas well!
Help other customers find the most helpful reviews
Was this review helpful to you?
|
|
|
|
|
|
51 of 65 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Robert Langdon's first adventure as a symbologist-detective, 14 Jan 2004
I read "Angels & Demons" after reading Dan Brown's "The Da Vinci Code," and I have to say that I do not think it matters what order you read the two books although there are clear indications this book was written first (Brown does several examples of blatant foreshadowing, including early on the idea that one square yard of drag will slow a falling body's rate of descent by twenty percent). The two books are similar in that Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon deciphers clues to try and solve one murder while trying to prevent others in a mystery that involves the secrets of the Catholic Church. In this book a physicist is murdered at CERN, the Swiss research facility, and branded will a symbol representing the Illuminati, the centuries old underground organization of scientists who have a vendetta against the Catholic Church. The ancient secret brotherhood has acquired a devastating new weapon of mass destruction and intends to bring down the Vatican (literally).Which book is better? My initial reaction would be that I liked "The Da Vinci Code" a bit more because so many of the clues were written out. When Langdon has to look over paintings, statues and other visual clues I find myself wishing Brown had supplied photographs in his book so that I could play along looking for clues (he does provide most of the requisite images at his website, but I did not know this until after the fact and I suspect most readers will not want to stop and go online to call up the photographs). Not that I had much success in my endeavors, but I did know that Leonardo Da Vinci wrote in his journals backwards so that I was ahead of Langdon for a half a page at one point. "Angles & Demons" is played out on a larger and more public stage than "The Da Vinci Code," and when you get to the conclusion of this novel you might find it a bit much, but that is one of the reasons they call it fiction. The biggest question in the debate over these books seems to be whether Brown is attacking the Catholic Church in his novels, which strikes me a bit odd after reading "Angels & Demons" since the Vatican is the target this time around. This novel is more about the long struggle between science and religion than anything else, and the position Brown takes seems to be that the two are ultimately compatible. I did my dissertation on the Scopes "Monkey" Trial of 1925 and in the spectacle of Clarence Darrow cross-examining William Jennings Bryan that is codified by the fictional "Inherit the Wind," history has forgotten that the original position of the Scopes defense was that there Genesis and evolution were compatible. Consequently, I have a lot of sympathy for Brown's position and I think a careful reading of the text offers as strong a critique of science as it does of religion. Certainly that ideal is represented by the man who is murdered to start off the story and whatever faults in the history and theology of the Catholic Church might be discussed, there are just too many men of devout faith in the narrative to support the idea Brown is out to get the Church. Nor do I have any real concerns with the extent to which Brown is playing with historical "facts." The whole idea here is to create a sense that the pieces of the puzzle fit together. I do not think for a second that these novels are true; all I need is to believe that they are plausible, so telling me that some statue's finger is pointed in the wrong direction if you go to Rome and see it for yourself is not going to matter to me because I understand how far the rules of the game apply to the real world. Even so, I think that Brown's factual foundation is more substantial than we will usually find under such circumstances, which would end up being a plus rather than a minus. Besides, I like all of the flashbacks to Langdon's discussions with his students (more classroom scenes in the future, please). Solving the puzzles is the key enjoyment of these novels and that part of the creative process makes up for Brown's tendency to overplay his red herrings and to hide his true villains in plain sight. Ultimately the game matters more than the characters or the plot. As soon as you know that there will be four more murders you realize that at least three of them have to happen because the game has to be played out to the end, so it is not until the frantic end game that your attention really perks up and it is at that point that Brown starts unloading a whole lot of really big surprises on his characters and his readers. In the final analysis the point here is neither history nor theology, but to tell an exciting adventure yarn where the hero gets by mainly on his intelligence rather than good looks and/or weaponry. This is a hero I can actually identify with for once and that is fine with me too.
Help other customers find the most helpful reviews
Was this review helpful to you?
|
|
|
|
|
|
27 of 34 people found the following review helpful:
1.0 out of 5 stars
Simply unbelievable, 2 April 2007
Renowned Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon gripped the document in his sensitive hands and tried to puzzle out the complicated paradox before his probing blue eyes. Although not overtly handsome in a classical sense, his finely drawn features were at this moment contorted into an expression of disbelief as he turned the pages of the book. Having been educated at Philips Exeter Academy (just like, coincidentally, a world renowned international best-selling author), he had a passing familiarity with subjects as disparate as high-energy physics and the Roman Catholic Church, so he had a pretty strong gut instinct that most of the so-called facts which the author had woven into his narrative were massaged, mistaken or just plain wrong.
Some of these were even self-contradictory - for example, although the book's FACT page said that anti-matter created no radiation as an energy source, its explosions were described a few pages later on as dazzling, which would be hard to achieve without any radiation. He also knew that it would be completely impossible for a Catholic priest's superiors to agree to his adoption of a nine year old girl. And he couldn't understand why it was so hard to find out where The Canister was hidden, given that its image was helpfully being transmitted by a video camera, whose signal could have been easily traced. And - although he was only an American, with a naturally limited grasp of the geography of other countries - he was reasonably sure that there was no Piazza de la Concorde in Rome, but he had a feeling that there was one like that in some other large European city.
Thinking about that reminded him of another book written by the present author, where many of the foreign characters had identified themselves as such by dropping French phrases into their dialogue (n'est-ce pas?), although they'd helpfully translated them into English right away, just in case the reader didn't understand. *Exactly the same thing*, he realized, happened in this book, but here he almost immediately recognized the language as Italian (even though he was a Harvard professor and an expert in something called religious symbology, he had a surprisingly poor grasp of the language). He suspected that some of this had been inserted into the text without bothering to check things like spelling or accuracy. To his surprise, this seemed to be also true for the dialogue of a couple of foreign characters who were supposed to have come from England. Because he spent his weekends lounging on the quad in blue jeans, taking his tweed jacket to museum openings or playing water polo (in case someone ever tried to drown him in a famous Roman fountain), he didn't know much about that country, but he was more sure than anything he'd ever been certain about in his life that no English person had ever told another that they were a few crumpets short of a proper tea.
But finally, and in the end, the reason for his bafflement was the way the book was written. Apart from that other book with all the French people in, he didn't think he'd ever read anything that seemed to be so badly constructed. *Surely*, he thought, the author couldn't have intended to say all this in such a ramshackle, clumsy, unwieldy fashion? Didn't he have access to an editor, or someone who could have helped? Or was it all ... *a code*? Excitedly, he watched as the thought whirled through his mind. And his brain. *Yes*. Logically, that was the only possible solution to the dilemma, he realised. *There was a hidden message, buried deeply within the very structure of the book!*. But how to unlock it? Momentarily, he paused, deflated after his initial breakthrough. He thought for a long time. Perhaps ... numbers were the key that would unlock this puzzle? *Yes*. But which numbers? Although he had learnt from the book that two is the Illuminati number of duality, he had a hunch that was a misleading red herring (and, after a good deal of further thought, was unsure whether any *other* number could have been the number of duality).
He racked his brains for a long time. As he thought, he laid the book down, stretched his arms out in front of him and gazed absently at his hands. And then ... suddenly ... the answer came. *Yes*. *Of course*. Excitedly, he counted his fingers again, just to make sure. *Five*. The book had said that this was the number of the Illuminati pentagram! (again, he wondered momentarily if any other number could have had that distinction). And five rhymes with ... *alive*! The fundamental property of all living things! Excitedly, he picked up the book again in his trembling yet finely wrought hands, turned to the first page, and began to count off every fifth word.
Slowly, things began to make more sense.
Help other customers find the most helpful reviews
Was this review helpful to you?
|
|
|
|
|
|
Most Recent Customer Reviews
|