The Name of the Rose: including the Author's Postscript

I've seen the film starring Sean Connery, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I tried watching the more recent TV adaptation, but felt it went off on a tangent that I couldn't fathom. So I thought it was time I tried reading the book. I've often found the book to be vastly superior to any screen adaptation - but not in this case! I struggled through the first few chapters - but finally gave up after trying to work out the meaning behind the conversation between William and Umbertino (15% into the book, according to my Kindle). The dialogue between characters - and the descriptions of places (I'm still trying to work out exactly what the novice was seeing when he walked into the church - presumably a stained-glass window?) - went completely over my head; and this is coming from someone who studied English to A-level standard at school! Perhaps this is just a bad translation from the original Italian into English. Perhaps if the translator had bothered to translate the Latin into English as well, I could have persevered more - but not even knowing the meaning behind huge chunks of text did not help! I was expecting an historical "whodunnit" - but this seems to be more of a treatise on medieval theology. There's probably a good story in there somewhere, but I couldn't be bothered to dig it out. I don't normally agree with the idea of abridged versions of novels, but in this case, such an edition would have been far easier to read.

This book is seriously hard work. Eco takes you back in time to the early 14th century and a Europe in disarray as competing factions fight out whether or not Jesus owned the shirt on his back (sort of). The murder mystery that forms the backbone of this book is set in an imposing monestary high in the mountains, home to a treasury of literature and an increasing body count that the principle characters are tasked with sorting out. In large part the writing is simply stunning. Utterly absorbing. But in many places, Eco indulges himself with rambling narratives that serve no great purpose. He seems to have a passion for reeling off long lists of almost anything which don't advance the story. An editor's cutting scissors would have been helpful. The result is a book that is both utterly absorbing and difficult to get into. A paradox the author I'm sure would be content with.

I approached The Name of the Rose with some trepidation. It was a thick paperback, and it came with a reputation of being a challenging read… and a few pages in it became clear that the author had liberally scattered his text with what I am told is medieval Latin (I don’t know any kind of Latin except for phrases which have passed into common use like Veni, vidi, vici). However, I decided I would tackle the challenge as I also knew it was a mystery novel and, in general, I enjoy mystery novels (unless they are too graphic). The Name of the Rose is a mystery novel, but it is a medieval mystery novel, set in a monastery against a background of a theological debate, and I found that I was as caught up in trying to follow the religious arguments (and form my own opinion of them) as I was by solving ‘whodunit’? In fact, by about half way through the novel I was so caught up in the story that I forgot to look out for clues as to the murderer’s identity… which meant I had a big surprise at the end. At the heart of the monastery, and at the centre of the novel, is the mysterious library – a labyrinth which can only be accessed by the librarian and his assistant. Like all forbidden or restricted things, curiosity drives others to long to penetrate the library’s secrets – unfolding a devastating chain of events. The Name of the Rose is a novel about sincere monks grappling with what seem to them to be vital questions: Did Christ practice (and preach) a rule of poverty for Himself and His followers? What should the relationship be between the (Catholic) church, the Emperor, and the common people? And, perhaps most important of all, Did Christ ever laugh? While these may not be questions which are asked in modern religious circles, what struck me was how the monks holding differing views used their religious beliefs in order to support political arguments – a trend as old as the monasteries of the Middle Ages and as modern as the American Presidential elections. The other theme in The Name of the Rose is about the importance of knowledge, and particularly the information stored in books, and about whether access to that learning should be free for all or restricted. Is all knowledge good, because it is knowledge, and should therefore be shared, or are there some things which it is better to keep a secret? You don’t have to be religious to enjoy this book – although I think it adds an interesting dimension if you are – neither do you have to be an expert on medieval times. If you have the patience to grapple with complex events (while remembering that the precise details are perhaps, not vital to the story), and the desire to read a novel that elevates the basic ‘whodunit’ to an art form, then add The Name of the Rose to your reading list, and persevere until the end. You will not be disappointed (but you may wish t...

Brilliant, just as remembered, and very different and BETTER than the film. Among them are expected differences, like more time to explain, and more time to develop character, but also there are things that never happen in the film, and even complete 180 degree turns to key events. The book is a better more holistic and satisfying event than the film, but the film, seen as a film, stands well as a great piece of cinematography. just not a great version of the book. See the film, but read the book first, if you can. Umberto Eco is a master of deep and meaningful plots and story lines, and casually throws around languages like Latin, Greek, German, Italian and others, sometimes untranslated, which can be disorientating at times, but does definitely enhance the time difference and cultural gap between us and the period of the book in history. Brilliant all round.

The mystery and the setting are intriguing. Much of the story, however, is weighed down by long, rambling, unnecessary descriptions and expositions. At first, some of them are interesting, but this book is nearly 600 pages long. It would have been much better if it were 350 pages. Instead of describing four or five items (like images on a church door or sacred relics) that give the reader a complete idea, the writer routinely literally describes 25-30 items, sometimes in long lists! The same occurs with historical details. What could effectively be said with precision becomes confusing, boring, and tedious because the writer is so circumlocutory. Also, there are entire parts of the book only in Latin. I became so frustrated with those excerpts, and with the book itself, that I quickly stopped translating them. I just skimmed through that. Most of the time I felt the author was focused on indulging in his own intellectuality instead of writing a good book. I wish I hadn’t wasted my time on it.