The Lost Symbol
I read The Lost Symbol over a couple of evenings shortly after it came out in September. I found myself wondering the same thing as I did after reading each of Dan Brown’s other books: Why did I get sucked in? Why spend money on a book I knew would be disappointing?
If I am asking these questions then many thousands of others must be, too, for at its launch it became the fastest selling adult book of all time, with sales of over half a million in the U.K. alone (Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol breaks records for first week sales in the UK | Books | guardian.co.uk). (Harry Potter doesn’t count, as it is really kidlit. Nevertheless, JK Rowling blew Brown away with her sales.) I cannot believe that all, or even most, of those book buyers had such poor taste, although I have now had mine confirmed.
Perhaps, like me, they were caught up in the anticipation of this new ‘chase’ thriller and what it might disclose about some cherished but murky organisation on the periphery of our community. The overblown reaction to his previous books from some people interested me long after his writing had ceased to. That’s probably why I bought the book: since so many were excercised over his previous works I had to be missing something. So let’s check out his take on Freemasonry. Duhh!
The tale follows the classical unities of time, place and action: the contrived characters are following a formulaic plot in the same locale within a period of 24 hours, which seemed 23 hours too long. In The Lost Symbol no scandals are exposed, and no light is shed on any secret society that is not tinged with the warm glow of approbation and the rosy hue of tolerance. At root it is a sad story of family alienation, dressed up with the web of intrigue that is so easily spun around Freemasonry. I felt cheated. Perhaps Dan Brown is a Mason? He was (is?) an episcopalian, and there can’t be that much difference, can there?
But what do I care? Read The Lost Symbol and all the Dan Brown you want. You have nothing to lose but your self-respect.