Friday, April 27, 2007

Chapter 33

She gave him a weary look. "You have no idea, do you?"
Langdon frowned. "Not a clue."

...and Brown lets his notions of goddess worship take over the reins, as his nominal hero is reduced to the role of clueless idiot, resigned to occupying the passenger seat of his SmartCar. He watches, stupefied, as his captor apparently drags him into more danger, contemptuously shooting down his ideas for escape, and finally dragging him into the railway station. His Mickey Mouse watch reinforces the idea of his junior status.

Which is a brave move, but shows up the weakness of genre fiction. Sophie is more resourceful, smarter, braver and altogether more interesting than Langdon. But, because she's not an American male, the author can't bring himself to craft his narrative around her.

Incidentally, if Sophie had spent so much time in Britain (at Royal Holloway), wouldn't she say "colleagues" rather than "coworkers"?


Blogger Murph said...

If her colleagues were cows I suppose she may be correct.

(I think bloody Tom Hanks out of mind now)

5:20 pm  
Blogger K.W.Wan said...

I hate the word "coworker" and that's all they say in Japan.

Language imperialism can only be a good thing.

11:41 pm  
Blogger patroclus said...

She'd also know that the Brits like to put milk in their tea, but you maybe haven't got to that bit yet. Or, conceivably, you didn't think it was central to your deconstruction of the text. But it's just about all I remember about the book!

5:08 pm  
Blogger Tim Footman said...

I think a version of TDVC with cows would be an artistic triumph, Murph, if not a commercial one. Where is Eddie Izzard when you need him?

But KW, it depends on who the imperialist is, surely?

Ah, Patroclus, would she know whether the milk goes in first or last? And did I tell you about the time my dear old granny put milk in peppermint tea?

8:09 am  

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