Not Again!

Pages: 480

In the 1920s,British author P.G. Wodehouse was accused of perpetuating his books with the same plot lines in different packaging. Wodehouse responded by writing the second of the Blandings novels,remarking in its preface,tongue firmly in cheek,that from now on he would not only replicate plot lines,but characters,as well. Its not for nothing that Wodehouse is affectionately referred to as the English languages performing flea. American author Dan Brown,on the other hand,can be referred to as flea-brained.

Inferno,Browns latest offering to his legion of conspiracy nut fans,once again features Harvard symbologist and all-round good guy,Robert Langdon,running around an ancient city trying to save the world,aided and abetted,as usual,by a bevy of lissome women (including the glamorous head of the World Health Organisation),and being chased by ominous men of military bearing. However in a resounding burst of originality,Brown shifts the main scene of action from Rome and the Vatican,to Florence and Venice. Brown shows hes not your run-of-the-mill storyteller by changing Infernos global threat from an ancient society armed with a futuristic bomb to a scientific zealot armed with a futuristic plague virus. Very au courant,Mr. Brown. Apart from these minor details,the plot is essentially identical to all the other books featuring the high-moral-and-sans-personality Langdon.

After waking up with one hell of a headache in Florence,with no recollection of how he got there,Langdons life is beset with dangers from the moment he opens his chocolate boy blue eyes. Being chased by a leather jacket clad,motorcycle riding,woman with spiky hair (no one can accuse Brown of perpetuating female stereotypes) and vans full of armed men in combat fatigues,Langdon escapes with the same savoir faire that all symbologists and spies seem to possess (at least in Browns addled mind),on the way naturally picking up a bald and beautiful British doctor called Sienna Brooks with an IQ of 208 (decorously attired in a blonde wig,of course) as an escape companion and listener (willing or otherwise) to Langdons lectures on art and history. After discovering a Hazmat container in his pocket containing,what else,an ancient seal inspired by Dante Alligheris The Divine Comedy,specifically the Inferno canon,Langdon somehow realises it is the key to finding a plague-like virus,squirreled away by billionaire scientist Bertrand Zobrist. The rest of the book follows Langdon and Brooks being chased by shadowy mercenaries across Florence,Venice and ultimately Istanbul,attempting to find a virus that threatens to wipe out a good part of humanity. Ho hum.

Interestingly,while Langdon suffers from retrograde amnesia for much of the novel,his creator Brown is afflicted with a more serious version of the same malady,conveniently forgoing mentioning Langdons past (and nigh identical) exploits in Italy. We wonder why. The blurring of plot lines apart,Inferno reads as part guide book (the academician he is,Langdon seems incapable of crossing a landmark without the reader being treated to a frat boy lecture on it) and part advertorial (the book is accoutred in product placements from Langdons wardrobe selections to private jet companies) in writing that is clunky,to say the least. Perhaps in sympathy for his cash cows mental predicament,Brown stumbles over overly florid descriptions,pseudo-philosophical musings and other painful prose. As one finishes the book,one can only wonder which of Dantes rings of hell is reserved for lachrymose literature.