On a favorite mystery list, someone asked, in relation to a discussion of The Da Vinci Code (which I reviewed in an earlier post), “What limits believability for you in a story?”
For me, as a fiction reader, the line isn’t drawn so much at facts in the real world as in the author’s consistency within the story, and their ability to help me suspend my disbelief. The author needs to follow the rules they’ve set up for their story, and some writers take some amount of artistic license with how things in the universe work, with history, with science, with nature. All fiction is fantasy, to varying degrees.
I do sometimes have a tough time with authors of historical fiction not doing their homework, or of mystery authors cheating, not providing the information that’s needed, trying to trick the reader by holding something back in a way that’s obvious. Of course all writers hold information back, that’s how one builds suspense and keeps the reader’s curiosity moving them through the story. But there are ways to do that and ways not to. If I sense the author is holding out on me in an obvious or smug way, I may stop reading.
Facts that I know to be different from how they’re presented do bother me. I suppose it’s a matter of degree that determines whether they ruin the story’s believability for me, and how involved I am in the story when they occur. I recall reading a book by a well-known mystery author in which she got some details about an illness wrong. I’m not a medical professional, but I nevertheless knew she was wrong. Still I was able to read through it and enjoy the story. If it had been a more obvious error or had affected the story or its outcome in an unbelievable way, I doubt I would’ve been so forgiving. In another story set in England, the author described a wild bird in a garden, a species I know is not native to England. I couldn’t help thinking how easy it is to do a simple search online while writing, and that irritated me. But it was a single, unimportant detail. I kept reading.
We all make mistakes. I’m probably most unforgiving of my own, and when writing a story there are thousands of details to consider. Yes, mistakes happen, and they are there in my work. I cringe when I think about them and hope no one notices. Sometimes there are so very many details to research in a story that if you’re not an expert on various subjects you just can’t see where you’ve gone wrong or even know all the questions you should ask. Maybe you see an error later, once the book is in print, as I’ve done with some. Others the writer never even knows about. That is why it pays to have an expert do a read-through. Yet even the expert can miss a detail here or there. I used to work in the technical writing field, and it’s amazing sometimes how a project can be reviewed or proofread by many pairs of eyes and still contain errors.
One or two people have mentioned that in The Da Vinci Code Brown called The Last Supper a fresco, though it isn’t, and misrepresented the number of paintings da Vinci completed. Brown’s errors in The Da Vinci Code didn’t throw me out of the story, mainly because I was too involved to notice them, or wouldn’t have recognized them as errors if I did. I don’t recall reading the word “fresco” in the book, though I’m sure it’s there. I read the book faster than usual, due to its suspense. I have no idea how many paintings da Vinci completed, so that didn’t stop me either. But I have read a lot about Gnosticism and Paganism, and it seemed to me that Brown got that information right. Mind you, I didn’t look those things up.
After I finished the book I looked up some of the da Vinci paintings. I compared the two versions of Madonna of the Rocks, or Virgin of the Rocks, and looked at the figure in question in an image of The Last Supper, taken after its 1999 restoration. So the book did encourage me to further my art education, somewhat. The figure on Jesus’ right appears possibly female to me. But who defines who looks more male or more female? We all know gender identity can be blurred, and especially in an ancient painting of even more ancient figures. But there really are no answers to these questions. We don’t know why da Vinci painted certain details as he did, and he’s not here to tell us. I find the theories and questions fascinating.
As for the Priory of Sion (P of S), we know there was a hoax perpetrated in regard to it in recent decades. Perhaps Brown fell for that. (I rather doubt he did.) On the other hand, perhaps he included that bit because it served the story. Artists often change landscapes when they paint them, or smooth over a physical flaw in a portrait. Is it so much less excusable in fiction? (Yes, it would be courteous for authors to tell us when they rearrange facts for that purpose.) I don’t know whether such an ancient secret society existed or still exists. The bits and pieces I’ve found suggest that it did, but it’s a suggestion only, and the dots don’t connect easily. History is sometimes provable and sometimes not. It’s possible Brown is convinced the P of S existed. Several books have mentioned P of S: Holy Blood, Holy Grail and The Templar Revelation are just two that I know of. I suspect there are more. I haven’t read them, so I don’t know how convincing they are. I once began reading Dead Sea Scrolls Deception, written by two of the authors of Holy Blood, Holy Grail, but it wasn’t what I expected, so I didn’t finish. That doesn’t mean the authors didn’t know their subjects. I don’t know enough to pass judgement on their reliability.
Margaret Starbird conducted extensive research in an attempt to debunk Holy Blood, Holy Grail, and came up with her own similar theories about Mary Magdalene’s relationship with Jesus, which she wrote about in The Woman With the Alabaster Jar. I haven’t read it yet, but I intend to soon, not because I’ve naively swallowed The Da Vinci Code, but because these are subjects in which I have a longstanding interest.
As for those who choose not to read The Da Vinci Code, of course it’s a matter of choice, and this book isn’t of great literary importance by any stretch of the imagination. The writing isn’t perfect. I think Brown could stand to work on editing out his passive verbs. But that’s just my opinion. Who am I to argue with his success? There’s no denying he knows his way around a plot. This book is above all great entertainment, perhaps more entertaining to those who’ve explored alternate religious paths. Though I enjoyed and still recommend the book, I wouldn’t think of insisting that anyone read it who might be offended or disappointed by Brown’s portrayal of history or Christianity.
I’m looking forward to Sharan Newman’s book on the subject . . . .
More da Vinci artwork links:
http://digilander.libero.it/debibliotheca/Arte/Leonardopaint_file/page_01.htm
Nice commentary. That book seems to have hit a nerve in our society.
Thank you. Yes, it’s become controversial.
I think what intrigues many people and disturbs others about The Da Vinci Code is the questioning of religious authority and accepted history, yet I’ve heard from several people who’d broken away from the religions of their youth that Brown’s book renewed their interest in spirituality or religion. They were inspired to question more deeply. I suspect the book offers them a mystery to explore. Mystique and religion seem to go together. This is a fascinating side effect of the book.
Does Brown present certain things as facts? I thought so earlier, but after looking at it again I don’t. See where he placed the heading, “Facts:”–inside the front matter, after the Acknowledgements and after the second title page (which signals the beginning of the story), but before the Prologue and chapters. This placement indicates it’s part of the story. I think he was setting conditions for his fictional world. In the very front of the book, on the copyright page, we find the usual disclaimer used for fiction.
For comparison, look at Life of Pi, which I just finished reading. In the Author’s Note, Yann Martel goes into detail about how he learned of Piscine Molitor Patel’s story, and of interviewing him. Do I wonder if Pi is a real person? Certainly. But if he isn’t, I won’t be surprised, angry, or disappointed. In the same Author’s Note, Martel says, of a prior book he’d started, “That’s what fiction is about, isn’t it, the selective transforming of reality?” I’m taking it out of context, but to me it’s a beautiful statement of what fiction is. It’s art. It may be high art or low art, but it is a work of creativity and imagination nonetheless. (I noticed, BTW, that Martel’s book doesn’t contain the standard fiction disclaimer on the copyright page.) While I consider Life of Pi a higher form of art than The Da Vinci Code, that’s only my opinion.
Were there errors in The Da Vinci Code? Yes, now I know there were in regard to frescoes and such. You’ll have to pardon my ignorance, I never studied art history. To me a fresco was a painting on a wall. These errors didn’t detract from my enjoyment, though I’m glad I didn’t learn of them until I’d finished. Most writers I’ve enjoyed reading have made errors. I can forgive them. I can forgive almost anything of a book that entertains me for enough hours to justify its price.
To those who simply cannot enjoy a book containing any errors, let me say it was my angst over not being able to find the perfect book that sent me on a quest for story and opened up my desire to write. I still haven’t found, and certainly haven’t written, the perfect book. But if you can find a way to turn that complaint into a quest of your own, you’ll get a lot more enjoyment out of reading and–who knows–perhaps writing as well.
The errors that are verifiable are one thing and history is another. *This is fiction.* (See Martel’s quote above.) If you’re looking for a great, fast-paced read with early church conspiracies as a plot motivator, you may enjoy The Da Vinci Code, you may not. But if you want to learn about early Christianity and Gnosticism you have to delve into an entire library of more academic, non-fiction writings. I already had a fledgling interest in the history, but The Da Vinci Code inspired me to pursue it further. So far I’ve gotten a lot from the writings of Elaine Pagels. You also have to keep in mind, a lot was lost during the early centuries that we’ll either never know or can only piece together.