Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose was, in 1980, an unanticipated success. I would imagine most book publishers would reject a book with these sorts of qualifications:
- Takes place in the early 14th century in a monastery.
- Main characters are monks trying to solve a series of murders (unknowingly, of course)…
- …at the same time as they are trying to prevent Michael of Cesena, the head of the Franciscan order at the time, from being killed by inquisitors headed by the Papacy’s new location in Avignon, France. If this sounds like a history buff book, it sometimes feels that way!
- Frequent digressions about scholastic theology in the vein of Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus.
- Long-winded explanations, exposition, and descriptions that continue for pages and pages and pages because this historical period will be incredibly obscure for the average reader.
- Philosophical musings and conflations about belief in God and God’s omnipotence being a problem for belief.
- A variety of voices and perspectives talking in their own distinct voice about their own beliefs about God, or lack thereof.
- Long passages of Latin left completely untranslated in the text itself or in footnotes (in other words, go figure it out yourself, or don’t; I basically just threw up my hands and gave up). One character speaks in a mixture of English and Latin words, which is certainly always a treat.
- The entire book was written in Italian, and then translated to English. No doubt, this introduces some strange syntax and other characteristics typical of translations that make grammarians tear their hair out. You also miss out on strange bits of wordplay which authors can utilize in their native language that simply get lost in translation.
Despite all of these potential problems, The Name of the Rose somehow found great commercial success because it is sui generis in its genre-bouncing ambition. Part murder mystery, part philosophical treatise, part history book, it somehow balances a great numbers of different themes, concepts, and ideas while also being a riveting, unique Sherlock Holmes story. It’s no surprise one of the main characters, William of Baskerville, holds the name of one of Holmes’ most famous cases. Furthermore, that Adso, the narrator, fills the shoes of Watson fits right into this tale.
One of the reasons that The Name of the Rose succeeds comes down to its strange pacing. Eco, a semiotician (and medievalist) by trade, spent tireless hours reading and re-reading medieval texts of the time period to nail the “feel” of written works in the general time frame of 1327. As a person who actually read books from this period myself, I can say that Eco’s work did not go to waste; most people would not even know that this book was written in the late 1970s, as it brilliantly captures the linguistic style of those writers. They tended towards grand, exuberant descriptions of divine knowledge and understanding, which often ended in pages and pages of long text. Even so, that authenticity grabs the reader right away.
Returning to the murder mystery at hand, Eco’s structure, intentional or not, allows him to return to the central plot thread when he desires. See, when a major political event or philosophical discussions occurs, the mystery remains at the back of your mind. Why would monks want to kill other monks at the monastery? Why do monk bodies keep showing up, symbolically representing prophecies in the Book of Revelation? Are all of these events related, or is some greater problem at play? The mystery grips you, and the frequent diversions (though, never an absence) from this main narrative line lets Eco play with our emotions. Characters, many of them, flit in and out of the narrative, and you’re never quite sure who the culprit might be until you start running out of bodies to pin. Eco does follow traditional rules of the metaphysical tale of detective work, but at least the conclusion still surprises.
Part of that comes from a deft combination of theological disagreement with the mystery itself. A major theme of The Name of the Rose comes from its focus on the monastery at hand. Though not named, this imagined Benedictine monastery contains one of the great libraries of the medieval world; however, only the appointed library knows its secrets. The abbot believes that the knowledge of heresies and controversial ideas can only be an impediment for the monks in the temple, as much as the traditional lusts of the flesh. But, is this right or good? Should such knowledge be held in the hands of the powerful alone, in a labyrinthine library that has restricted access? Eco toys with these sorts of questions throughout, constantly asking the reader to connect symbols, themes, and metaphors to understand why things are happening.
The Name of the Rose, though confusing at times, does hold a central thread that seems to connect the entirety of its contents: the ambiguity of information unknown and the dangers of dogmatic beliefs. There is something ironic about the book’s ending that turns the structure of the novel on its head, re-contextualizing previous events. To describe it in brief without spoiling anything: Eco is a postmodernist. A variety of perspectives butt heads, and each claims an understanding of ultimate reality. We see this reality through the eyes of one person, and yet clearly various other perspectives see a different reality entirely. What seems like a discovery may not actually be a discovery; rather, that discovery might be based on what our previous framework of beliefs intends and expects us to discover. Dogmatic beliefs allow us to reach certainly conclusions which the actual situation does not support, and this can be incredibly dangerous and harmful. I suppose that’s all I can really say.
So yes, I found The Name of the Rose compelling, and you might too, if only you can traverse the very, very challenging first one hundred pages. Eco himself said if the reader can’t make it past that opening section, he/she is unlikely to finish the novel at all. I can attest to this, as previous attempts to jump into this dense narrative left me cold. However, for whatever reason, I finally burst through the barriers, and found a highly challenging, highly enjoyable novel as a result.
