Truth vs. Fiction: Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code

I’ll admit it. I may just be one of the last people on the planet to have read The Da Vinci Code. But with all of the hoopla (and controversy) surrounding the recent release of the film, I decided to finally read the novel before seeing the film. Apparently I’m not the only one so inspired. On the train ride home from work, by the pool, in the park, I see countless others reading it too.

And that should be no surprise. The Da Vinci Code is a masterly crafted work of fiction, with an intricately woven plot, fascinating characters, an ingenious premise, and more twists and turn than I-95’s famous “s” curve in good old Rhode Island.

By now, everyone should be familiar with the story, so only a cursory examination is required there. Our hero is one Robert Langdon, an expert on ancient history and religions and all things ancient. One wonders that his very name was not chosen by Brown as a corruption of the old French dialect, Langue D’Oc; much of the book does take place in France, after all.

Langdon is summoned to a meeting with a famous French curator who is found dead. The curator, Jacques Sauniere, leaves a series of clues intended for his granddaughter, Sophie, and Langdon to follow. These clues may yield to the very Holy Grail itself, and tell an astonishing secret that powerful forces would rather left untold.

The story is enthralling, the characters believable, and the suspense ever-present. But what I enjoyed most about The Da Vinci Code was the fact that the book is filled with clever little puzzles and riddles that are so much fun for the reader to try to figure out before the characters do.

And of course, much debate has surrounded The Da Vinci Code. Let’s be honest, however: this is, above all, a work of fiction, and if you take it as such, then the point of all the debate really becomes moot. There are many points in the novel that have to be taken with a grain of salt, and should not be taken as truth.

Early on, for example, Langdon claims that, per the orders of Francois Mitterand, there are exactly 666 panes in the new Louvre pyramid. This seems to be an urban myth, since in real life the Louvre claims there are 672 or 673 (according to Wikipedia).

Opus Dei is another example of how Brown tends to exaggerate reality in his fiction. Surely the monk Silas, who takes masochism as a form of self discipline to the extreme, is not typical of the order and it’s members. Indeed, Brown himself admits as much in the novel:

The media always gravitated toward scandal, and Opus Dei, like most large organizations, had within its membership a few misguided souls who cast a shadow over the entire group.

He’s as much as telling us here that even in his novel, he’s not trying to paint Opus Dei with a sweeping brush.

And certainly Opus Dei has some questionable practices (its treatment of women, for example) in the real world that Brown is keying upon. But for the most part, it would be a mistake to assume that Silas is representative of this devoutly religious organization.

Of course, Brown does call upon his history when he incorporates mysterious organizations like the Knights Templar, the Freemasons, and the Priory of Sion, though here again he often exaggerates. Historical figures like Da Vinci himself are well represented for the most part. And of course, anyone may take liberty with the legendary Holy Grail, since no one really knows what it is anyway.

But all of this is truly where Brown’s genius lies, because he has taken some of the more interesting questions and characters in human history, embellished them a bit, mixed them all together and left the reader to decide what may or may not be real or possible.

And in so doing, Brown encourages the reader to actually learn something about a very important human endeavor: religion. Brown challenges us to not just accept things on faith, but to actively think about in an open, honest, and objective discussion what so many take as doctrine. His characters explain that the bible was written by men, not God, and that men have ultimately decided what is canon and what is not. Can we not then debate their decisions?

I do not take Brown’s conclusions to be truth. I take them to be fiction. But I know that I very much enjoyed reading The Da Vinci Code, and the ideas and theories it postulates. A little thought is good thing. A lot of thought is a great thing. And that makes The Da Vinci code a truly great novel indeed.