Prague Cemetery
I finished the new Umberto Eco novel today, Prague Cemetery. I described it in about 47 different ways to various people, trying to get at the core of what made me like it and feel distanced from it all at the same time.
It’s an odd book, like Eco’s fiction can be. His focus on history can lead to a pretty glacial narrative pace. That’s definitely the case here, it’s not a fast book, and not an easy one. Honestly, the fictional conceit throughout the entire thing “Is the protagonist two people or one person with split personalities?!” is pretty flimsy and once you realize just how much of the book is based in history (the only completely fictional character is Simonini, the protagonist) it’s obvious that his purpose isn’t so much to have some fictional hook as to nod to the real multiplicity contained within this one character. So after it’s all over you realize just how brilliant it is, even if while in progress you’re wondering why it’s even necessary. (And don’t worry I haven’t spoiled anything for you, this isn’t really a book you can spoil.)
That aside, it really is a wondrous thing. The prose is sharp, clear and at times profoundly uncomfortable, befitting a book about some of the most famous/infamous conspiracy theories published, more specifically the ones devoted to devil worship, Masonic cults and anti-semitism. It’s an attempt to condense the history of these conspiracies into one line, one trajectory, and it does so elegantly.
There’s a purity of purpose to Eco’s writing that I really like. When he writes fiction it’s incredibly focused, and an honest expression of his obsessions and historical interests. Sure, at times the fiction can drag, and the plot at times bows to the history, but Eco never manages to make it feel like a Neal Stephenson book can, where instead of attempting to integrate research and fiction you get these weird alternations between research and fiction. Eco marries them together seamlessly, even if he sacrifices some of the rip-roaring fiction rollercoaster-ness he could provide. He is a sober writer, writing about for the most part sober things and while I wouldn’t want to only read him, I’m always glad when I do. He expects a lot from the reader, it feels, and it’s always kind of nice to follow him on whatever winding path he takes you down, at whatever pace he chooses.
(hat tip to Chris Remo’s write up for pushing me to read this. I’ve liked Eco for awhile but had lost track and wasn’t aware this came out till I read his post.)
