OK, so while on holiday I took the opportunity to finally get around to reading The Da Vinci Code. I confess, I have absolutely no idea why this was/is a bestseller. It struck me as little more than an endless series of art history lectures (of dubious veracity) punctuated by occasional rounds of gunfire--and a kidnapping by Mr. Evil that made no logical sense. And could someone please tell me how a guy that has been fatally shot has time to run all over the Louvre leaving invisible notes, then strip himslelf naked, write cryptic messages on his body, and splay himself on the floor a la Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man? I mean, come on. Plus the ending was a bit of a cop out. It all kind of reminded me of fourth-rate Umberto Eco, but at least The Name of the Rose was a good book.
I'm not all that eager to see the movie.
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