The DaVinci Code

So for my Non-Canonical Early Christian Literature class (basically, scripture that did not make it into the Bible), we are ending on a fun note by reading The DaVinci Code, by Dan Brown. If you have read the book, you know it is not a very good book. In fact, it's a little bit terrible. It's ridiculously inaccurate, the writing quality is a lacking, and the characters are almost humorously flat. I know Dan Brown jokes are even more dated than Justin Bieber jokes, but bear with me; this is, sadly, my second time reading it, so I beg forgiveness for the fun I'm going to have with this book while I read it.

Reviews:

I'd better check my meds...my pulse seems unusually slow for this book.
Also, I'm glad the Christian Science Monitor likes it. 

Prologue:


So, this old guy is staggering through the Louvre and ripping paintings off the walls. An alarm goes off...I guess he is trying to get someone's attention.

A voice spoke, chillingly close. "Do not move."

(eek, that's scary! *looks over shoulder to make sure nobody is chillingly close to me*)
 

On his hands and knees, the curator froze, turning his head slowly.  Only fifteen feet away, outside the sealed gate, the mountainous silhouette of his attacker stared through the iron bars.

Yeah, I hate it when people are only fifteen feet away from me. I need my personal space, and I have a comfort zone, thank you very much. Okay, the other guy drew a pistol...I guess it's chillinger when the not-so-chillingly close guy has a gun. "Within range" counts as chillingly close when anybody has a gun. Oh, and he has pink eyes.
Anyway, the two guys talk for a while, and the pink-eyed guy shoots the old guy  in the stomach, and then walks away. The old guy gets up as he's dying, staggers around the museum, and does a mysterious "task" before the prologue finishes.

Chapter 1:

Robert Langdon awoke slowly.
He awakes in the Hotel Ritz Paris and has no memory of where he is....BUT WAIT! He's just super sleepy. He then remembers where he is and picks up the ringing phone that woke him up.
He had been asleep only an hour, but he felt like the dead.
Lol, that's ironic because in the other chapter, someone just died! ha ha ha ha....Oh, here is a flyer for a lecture he gave last night...

An Evening with Robert Langdon

Professor of Religious Symbology,

Harvard University

Oooh, he must be very important and smart if he is a professor at Harvard. And his subject sounds very cool...symbology. Does that mean he teaches things about religious symbols? Come to think of it, I have never heard of "symbology" before...let me Wikipedia it. 

Hmmm, "symbology" redirects to symbol. Let me try "symbology (disambiguation)"....hey, that's funny, Wikipedia doesn't have a page on symbology! I wonder why that is.

Now, the guy on the phone really wants Langdon to talk to this guy, insisting it's important....

Langdon had little doubt. His books on religious paintings and cult symbology had made him a reluctant celebrity in the art world....the stream of self-important historians and art buffs arriving at his door had seemed never-ending.

Poor Langdon! He's so important and famous, but he never asked for this spotlight. Who knew that symbology professors were so in demand? He would have picked a much more boring subject had he known the misfortune symbology would bring him, like murderology or videogameology.

Anyway, after he hangs up with the poor guy who had to wait while Robert was thinking about how important he is, Robert now he looks at himself in the mirror:

The past year had taken a heavy toll on him....his usually sharp blue eys looked hazy and drawn tonight. A dark stubble was shrouding his jaw and dimpled chin. Around his temples, the gray highlights were advancing, making their away deeper into the thicket of coarse black hair. Although his female colleagues insisted that the gray only accentuated his bookish appeal, Langdon knew better.

My god, he's hideous. Even though all the female colleagues swear that the gray "highlights" in his hair look good, Langdon knows better. I'll ignore the gray highlights, since Langdon seems to especially hate those, but let's see what this description looks like:

I can't even look, he's so ugly.

Last month, much to Langdon's embarrassment, Boston Magazine had listed him s one of that city's top ten most intriguing people-- a dubious horror that made him the brunt of endless ribbing by his Harvard colleagues. 

How terrible! What a "dubious horror"! Langdon is sooo embarrassed. And then he is introduced at the lecture in France by the lecturer reading from this article in the magazine:

"Although Professor Langdon might not be considered hunk-handsome like some of our younger awardees, this forty-something academic has more than his share of scholarly allure. His captivating presence is punctuated by an unusually slow, baritone speaking voice, which his female students describe as 'chocolate for the ears.'"

*blinks* Um, okay. So even though this poor guy isn't the usual kind of handsome, he has a kind of scholarly allure and a "chocolate" voice that the ladies can't resist...oh, and here he is also later described as usually wearing a "tweed" jacket. Wait. I've got it! Dimpled chin, graying hair, tweed jacket, bookish appearence, forty-something...

I get it. He was describing a picture of the other guy
to throw off how hot he REALLY is.

Oh yeah, and the chapter ends with the policeman coming to Dan Bro-- I mean, Robert Langdon's door because someone has been murdered, and only the symbologist could possibly figure out who did it.