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The Name of the Rose Kindle Edition
“Explodes with pyrotechnic inventions, literally as well as figuratively. Hold on till the end.”—New York Times
“Whether you're into Sherlock Holmes, Montaillou, Borges, the nouvelle critique, the Rule of St. Benedict, metaphysics, library design, or The Thing from the Crypt, you'll love it. Who can that miss out?”—Sunday Times (London)
The beloved internationally bestselling historical mystery about a brilliant monk called upon to solve a series of baffling murders in a fourteenth-century Italian abbey
Italy, 1347. While Brother William of Baskerville is investigating accusations of heresy at a wealthy abbey, his inquiries are disrupted by a series of bizarre deaths. Turning his practiced detective skills to finding the killer, he relies on logic (Aristotle), theology (Thomas Aquinas), empirical insights (Roger Bacon), and his own wry humor and ferocious curiosity. With the aid of his young apprentice, William scours the abbey, from its stables to the labyrinthine library, piecing together evidence, and deciphering cryptic symbols and coded manuscripts to uncover the truth about this place where "the most interesting things happen at night."
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherHarperVia
- Publication dateSeptember 28, 1994
- File size9819 KB
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Editorial Reviews
Review
--SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE
"The novel explodes with pyrotechnic inventions, literally as well as figuratively . . . The narrative impulse that commands the story is irresistible . . . Mr. Eco's delight in his narrative does not fail to touch the reader."
--NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW
"Like the labyrinthine library at its heart, this brilliant novel has many cunning passages and secret chambers . . . Fascinating . . . Ingenious . . . Dazzling."
--NEWSWEEK
"Whether you're into Sherlock Holmes, Montaillou, Borges, the nouvelle critique, the Rule of St. Benedict, metaphysics, library design, or The Thing from the Crypt, you'll love it. Who can that miss out?"
--SUNDAY TIMES (LONDON)
"[The Name of the Rose] is an example of that rare publishing phenomenon, the literary mega best seller which transcends linguistic boundaries . . . --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
Review
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. This was beginning with God and the duty of every faithful monk would be to repeat every day with chanting humility the one never-changing event whose incontrovertible truth can be asserted. But we see now through a glass darkly, and the truth, before it is revealed to all, face to face, we see in fragments (alas, how illegible) in the error of the world, so we must spell out its faithful signals even when they seem obscure to us and as if amalgamated with a will wholly bent on evil.
Having reached the end of my poor sinner’s life, my hair now white, I grow old as the world does, waiting to be lost in the bottomless pit of silent and deserted divinity, sharing in the light of angelic intelligences; confined now with my heavy, ailing body in this cell in the dear monastery of Melk, I prepare to leave on this parchment my testimony as to the wondrous and terrible events that I happened to observe in my youth, now repeating all that I saw and heard, without venturing to seek a design, as if to leave to those who will come after (if the Antichrist has not come first) signs of signs, so that the prayer of deciphering may be exercised on them.
May the Lord grant me the grace to be the transparent witness of the occurrences that took place in the abbey whose name it is only right and pious now to omit, toward the end of the year of our Lord 1327, when the Emperor Louis came down into Italy to restore the dignity of the Holy Roman Empire, in keeping with the designs of the Almighty and to the confusion of the wicked usurper, simoniac, and heresiarch who in Avignon brought shame on the holy name of the apostle (I refer to the sinful soul of Jacques of Cahors, whom the impious revered as John XXII).
Perhaps, to make more comprehensible the events in which I found myself involved, I should recall what was happening in those last years of the century, as I understood it then, living through it, and as I remember it now, complemented by other stories I heard afterward — if my memory still proves capable of connecting the threads of happenings so many and confused.
In the early years of that century Pope Clement V had moved the apostolic seat to Avignon, leaving Rome prey to the ambitions of the local overlords: and gradually the holy city of Christianity had been transformed into a circus, or into a brothel, riven by the struggles among its leaders; though called a republic, it was not one, and it was assailed by armed bands, subjected to violence and looting. Ecclesiastics, eluding secular jurisdiction, commanded groups of malefactors and robbed, sword in hand, transgressing and organizing evil commerce. How was it possible to prevent the Caput Mundi from becoming again, and rightly, the goal of the man who wanted to assume the crown of the Holy Roman Empire and restore the dignity of that temporal dominion that had belonged to the Caesars?
Thus in 1314 five German princes in Frankfurt elected Louis the Bavarian supreme ruler of the empire. But that same day, on the opposite shore of the Main, the Count Palatine of the Rhine, and the Archbishop of Cologne elected Frederick of Austria to the same high rank. Two emperors for a single throne and a single pope for two: a situation that, truly, fomented great disorder. . .
Two years later, in Avignon, the new Pope was elected, Jacques of Cahors, an old man of seventy-two who took, as I have said, the name of John XXII , and heaven grant that no pontiff take again a name now so distasteful to the righteous. A Frenchman, devoted to the King of France (the men of that corrupt land are always inclined to foster the interests of their own people, and are unable to look upon the whole world as their spiritual home), he had supported Philip the Fair against the Knights Templars, whom the King accused (I believe unjustly) of the most shameful crimes so that he could seize their possessions with the complicity of that renegade ecclesiastic.
In 1322 Louis the Bavarian defeated his rival Frederick. Fearing a single emperor even more than he had feared two, John excommunicated the victor, who in return denounced the Pope as a heretic. I must also recall how, that very year, the chapter of the Franciscans was convened in Perugia, and the minister general, Michael of Cesena, accepting the entreaties of the Spirituals (of whom I will have occasion to speak), proclaimed as a matter of faith and doctrine the poverty of Christ, who, if he owned something with his apostles, possessed it only as usus facti. A worthy resolution, meant to safeguard the virtue and purity of the order, it highly displeased the Pope, who perhaps discerned in it a principle that would jeopardize the very claims that he, as head of the church, had made, denying the empire the right to elect bishops, and asserting on the contrary that the papal throne had the right to invest the emperor. Moved by these or other reasons, John condemned the Franciscan propositions in 1323 with the decretal Cum inter nonnullos.
It was at this point, I imagine, that Louis saw the Franciscans, now the Pope’s enemies, as his potential allies. By affirming the poverty of Christ, they were somehow strengthening the ideas of the imperial theologians, namely Marsilius of Padua and John of Jandun. And finally, not many months before the events I am narrating, Louis came to an agreement with the defeated Frederick, descended into Italy, and was crowned in Milan.
This was the situation when I — a young Benedictine novice in the monastery of Melk — was removed from the peace of the cloister by my father, fighting in Louis’s train, not least among his barons. He thought it wise to take me with him so that I might know the wonders of Italy and be present when the Emperor was crowned in Rome. But the siege of Pisa then absorbed him in military concerns. Left to myself, I roamed among the cities of Tuscany, partly out of idleness and partly out of a desire to learn. But this undisciplined freedom, my parents thought, was not suitable for an adolescent devoted to a contemplative life. And on the advice of Marsilius, who had taken a liking to me, they decided to place me under the direction of a learned Franciscan, Brother William of Baskerville, about to undertake a mission that would lead him to famous cities and ancientabbeys. Thus I became William’s scribe and disciple at the same time, nor did I ever regret it, because with him I was witness to events worthy of being handed down, as I am now doing, to those who will come after us.
I did not then know what Brother William was seeking, and to tell the truth, I still do not know today, and I presume he himself did not know, moved as he was solely by the desire for truth, and by the suspicion — which I could see he always harbored — that the truth was not what was appearing to him at that moment. And perhaps during those years he had been distracted from his beloved studies by secular duties. The mission with which William had been charged remained unknown to me while we were on our journey, or, rather, he never spoke to me about it. It was only by overhearing bits of his conversations with the abbots of the monasteries where we stopped along the way that I formed some idea of the nature of this assignment. But I did not understand it fully until we reached our destination.
Our destination was to the north, but our journey did not follow a straight line, and we rested at various abbeys. Thus it happened that we turned westward (though we ought to have been going east), almost following the line of mountains that from Pisa leads in the direction of the pilgrim’s way to Santiago, pausing in a place which, due to what occurred there, it is better that I do not name, but whose lords were liege to the empire, and where the abbots of our order, all in agreement, opposed the heretical, corrupt Pope. Our journey lasted two weeks, amid various vicissitudes, and during that time I had the opportunity to know (never enough, I remain convinced) my new master.
From Library Journal
James Dudley, Copiague, N.Y.
Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From the Back Cover
The year is 1327. Franciscans in a wealthy Italian abbey are suspected of heresy, and Brother William of Baskerville arrives to investigate. When his delicate mission is suddenly overshadowed by seven bizarre deaths, Brother William turns detective. His tools are the logic of Aristotle, the theology of Aquinas, the empirical insights of Roger Bacon--all sharpened to a glistening edge by wry humor and a ferocious curiosity. He collects evidence, deciphers secret symbols and coded manuscripts, and digs into the eerie labyrinth of the abbey, where "the most interesting things happen at night."
Translated from the Italian by William Weaver
Umberto Eco is Professor of Semiotics at Bologna University. His other works include On Literature, Baudolino, Foucault's Pendulum, The Island of the Day Before, and Travels in Hyperreality.
--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
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Product details
- ASIN : B003WUYPTC
- Publisher : HarperVia; Reprint edition (September 28, 1994)
- Publication date : September 28, 1994
- Language : English
- File size : 9819 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 610 pages
- Page numbers source ISBN : 0063279630
- Best Sellers Rank: #36,674 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Umberto Eco (born 5 January 1932) is an Italian novelist, medievalist, semiotician, philosopher, and literary critic.
He is the author of several bestselling novels, The Name of The Rose, Foucault's Pendulum, The Island of The Day Before, and Baudolino. His collections of essays include Five Moral Pieces, Kant and the Platypus, Serendipities, Travels In Hyperreality, and How To Travel With a Salmon and Other Essays.
He has also written academic texts and children's books.
Photography (c) Università Reggio Calabria
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Eco is writing on several levels: as a mystery, to be sure. Who is killing the monks at the abby and why? And why is there an apocalyptic theme to the deaths? What are the secrets being hidden by the monks, and how are they related to the crimes committed? But there is another level to the story: Brother William and his novice (Adso, the author of the story) are part of a larger theological mission regarding the nature of the Church - should it emphasize poverty? And if so, how does one reconcile this with the tremendous wealth and power the Church wields in the 14th century? (The backdrop of the story is set during the "Avignon Papacy" which resulted in two Popes claiming leadership of the Church). This conflict, in fact, may play a role in the murders; as a stand-alone issue, Eco not only shows remarkable historical accuracy, but also makes a commentary on the Church specifically and religion more generally. Yet Eco goes further still for those readers who are looking: while many of the characters and issues are drawn from history, Eco also gives a nod and wink to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in several respects - Brother William is "William of Baskerville"; the methods used by Brother William are identical to those used by Doyle's creation (deduction, inference and Occam's Razor - in fact, Occam is cited as an acquaintance of William's) - in fact, as the pair arrive at the abbey, the deductions William makes are too reminiscent to be overlooked. Further, the narrator writes as did Dr. Watson - _The Name of the Rose_ is essentially an account written by the investigator's side-kick.
Eco's brilliance is also demonstrated in the organization of the book: it opens with the same lines as Genesis ("In the beginning was the word ...") and is broken up into seven days, each day divided into the monastic measurement of time (Matins, Lauds, Prime,Terce, Sext, Nomes, Vespers and Compline). This not only reinforces the sense of authenticity of the story, but it also draws readers into the rhythms and pattern of monastic life. The details of the monastery - and especially the library around which the investigation revolves - speaks to the conflict between reason (as exemplified by Brother William) and faith (as exemplified by the monks). This is a conflict that continues to the present and is related to the other issue of wealth and Christianity that is at the heart of the internal conflict within the Church in the 1300s.
Perhaps my analysis is more than the casual reader is interested in, in which case Eco provides a top-notch mystery that is complicated, difficult to solve and rewarding in its conclusion. The only complaint I have plot-wise is the resolution: I was frustrated at the way in which Eco chose to end the mystery, if only because of my tremendous reverence for and love of the written word. That being said, the conclusion certainly does point to the value of monastic work in the Middle Ages, and the miracle that we have so many texts from the ancient world still extant.
_The Name of the Rose_ is dense and sometimes difficult to read (because of Latin, because of the historical details, and yes, because the mystery itself is a real challenge). But it is truly a masterpiece of writing - I highly recommend it.
But if The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is an unlikely bestseller, The Name of the Rose is positively bewildering in its success. Here's a book that immerses you deeply in medieval life, gets into complex debates about medieval theology and 14th century schisms in the Catholic church, goes on page-long diversions into church art and the construction of manuscripts, features frequent interludes of untranslated Latin, and does all this while absolutely refusing to hold the reader's hand at all. Yes, there's a murder mystery at the book's core, and a lot of intrigue, and even a bizarre labyrinth and dream sequences, but this isn't what anyone would call an easy read.
And yet, somehow, I couldn't put this down, despite my occasional frustrations at Eco's discursive style, complicated subject matter, and overall verbosity. Or maybe I enjoyed the book because of those things, because whatever else you say about The Name of the Rose, the fact remains that the book immerses you in the medieval era in a way that almost nothing else ever has. No, Eco has no interest in helping you navigate the text, nor its debates and themes, because the characters themselves are already immersed in this world, and they don't need to explain things to each other. Instead, Eco wants you to live in this world, see it through the eyes of contemporaries, and go back to a different time.
The result is a book that's really hard to fit into any traditional genre classifications. Is this a murder mystery? Undeniably, with a series of grisly murders, unclear motivations, a possible conspiracy, mysterious labyrinths containing secrets, and a constant sense of danger (to say nothing of a Sherlock Holmes surrogate in the form of a monk). But to label it a mystery doesn't work, because no mystery would have this much debate about the role of poverty and material possessions in the Catholic Church, or a debate as to the legitimacy of the Pope, an element of the book that's given equal weight as the murders, and discussed possibly in more depth.
So is it historical fiction? Maybe so...but it's also weirdly metafictional at times (with a playful prologue that establishes the book as a half-remembered re-creation of a manuscript that might or might not be fake), interested in the minutiae of theology and monastic life, all while being a thriller, but one that only seems partially compelled to follow the murder thread. It's a truly odd book, and one that really had no business being as popular as it was, if you subscribe to publishing wisdom - it's difficult, takes forever to get going, doesn't hold the reader's hand, and more.
But while you're under its spell, none of that really matters, in the end; if the goal of a book is to transport you to another place or time, The Name of the Rose does that incredibly well. It's not always "fun", it's not always fast-paced, but it's immersive in a way that few books manage to be - and that, in of itself, is something worthwhile all on its own.
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Reviewed in Mexico on July 8, 2023