Robert said:
I usually read to the bitter end, especially if it's a book that has good reviews.
Same here.
I had not read
The DaVinci Code or
Angels and Demons, but my wife had and thought they were great. My wife had no prior knowledge of the whole conspiritorial myth that is the story line of the books, so she was a blank slate. I was very familiar with the various groups depicted in the book, both from the historical and theoritical perspectives. When I found myself answering historical questions that my wife had about some of the groups in the story (particularly the Knights Templar), I began to question Dan Brown's ability as a writer.
Fast forward about a year later when I decided to read Dan Brown's
Digital Fortress after a co-worker left a copy on my desk. What the heck, I thought. I'm going on a trip so I'll take it along. Well, my suspicions about Dan Brown's writing abilities were confirmed in a most intellectually tortuous way. It's not just the fact that his story line was weak. His characters were stiff, cardboard-like caricatures of what they were supposed to represent. I couldn't warm up to the supposed heroes, especially the heroine, the most brilliant woman in the world with her 180 IQ. And of course, the heroine's equally brilliant boyfriend who speaks seemingly every language on the planet without even the slightest American accent to betray his true identity. The villians weren't devious, evil, or interesting enough to evoke even passing dislike. I won't even get started on Brown's writing "style". If I was to contrast writing "style" to fashion "style", Brown's would be on the order of the K-Mart Blue Light Special variety.
It took all of about 30 seconds for me to reason through the "climactic" ending - the answer to the scientific riddle that would save the world. It took our genius heroine 26 excruciatingly long pages of the book to figure it out. Brilliant. Now I don't pretend to be a physicist, a brilliant physicist, and certainly not a genius with a 180 IQ, but the riddle wouldn't stump the panel on
Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader.
The only real emotion I felt throughout the reading of the book was the anger I felt at myself for having stayed with it until the bitter end. Morbid curiosity perhaps? Must have been very morbid indeed...
