Just finished reading it, and my overall impression of it is…eh, not bad. It’s like Umberto Eco Lite. Good, well-paced, rousing tale, but all the profound controversy over it is, IMHO, utterly unjustified. I mean, after all, for such a profound mystery, the two main characters unravelled it pretty fucking fast.
Several things bugged me.
First, most of the linguistic and etymological profundities Brown shared (sinister coming from Latin for the left side, being symbolically connected to the feminine side, etc.) just weren’t all that obscure. Pretty common knowledge, in fact.
Second, the level of complexity of the clues along the trail were far more fit for an old SierraQuest video game than the greatest mystery of the Western World. Mirrored English script? Anagrams, for God’s sake? And the final mystery, the code to the second cryptex (about the Rosy orb and seeded womb) was unbelievably easy. I figured out the puzzle as soon as the computer spit out the “Isaac Newton” clue. The symmetry of the apple symbolism (on many levels…apples are taxonomically related to roses, being members of Rosaceae, with five petals, yadda yadda yadda) was just too ripe (pardon the expression) not to be the truth.
Third, the history as presented was thoroughly tampered with. I know, not surprising for a work of fiction, but I would have thought that with the veneer of authenticity specifically asserted in the beginning of the book, Brown would have been more careful how he bent the facts. The hinge around which the entire story revolves, that the Templars “most definitely found something” during their dig at the Temple of Herod, appears to be fabrication. Every history of the Order I’ve ever read states that either nothing is known about the Templar dig, or that they quit after a decade in frustration. Also, while I can certainly buy that Urban III and King Phillipe were conniving, desperate bastards, I have a hard time believing that their motivations arose from anything deeper than the fact that the Templars were in fact richer than either the Vatican or the Throne at the time of their rather diabolical decaptitating strike. You’ll have to forgive me for that. I also recently giggled my way through Shlain’s absurd and unconvincing The Alphabet and the Goddess, so perhaps I’m not in the “mood” to listen favorably to how femininity has been ruthlessly and intentionally suppressed for millennia.
Fourth, and perhaps this is just me, since I’m fascinated with religious symbolism myself, but the whole secret of the Grail wasn’t all that tough to figure out, and after that, it was just a matter of satisfying my curiosity about how the story would end. As soon as Brown started talking about the “chalice” being a symbol for something else, my little theological mind pinged, “Aha! Chalice! Cup! Vagina! Either 1) Jesus was a chick, or 2) Jesus got somebody pregnant.”
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Then I went back to thinking about vaginas for a minute.
One little bit of playfulness I did rather enjoy came at the end of the book, however. When Marie and Langdon were discussing the Grail, Marie, tolerantly amused, asks, “Why is it that men simply cannot let the Grail rest?” This is amusing on several levels. It’s a veiled reference to male sexuality. Why can’t men stop chasing the “Grail,” or the female genitalia? Also, it’s a doubly veiled reference to ancient symbolism, and I have a hard time believing that two people so steeped in ancient magical lore as the female keeper of the Grail and the Harvard symbologist who just tracked it down are not aware of the ultimate male mystical role. We are represented by the sword…the blade…the phallus. We are that which seeks to penetrate the female veil of mystery, that which thrusts until the mystery lay exposed before us.
And if the Grail is the ultimate female mystery, then all us horny males must figure it’s the ultimate mystical and metaphorical fuck. That’s why men will never let the Grail rest.