Inferno by Dan Brown

This book felt light to me. It opens in medias res, and I spent the first two-thirds thinking the trail was too easy to follow. Of course, there were twists, and it was not quite as simple as it first appeared, but when all was said and done, it all wrapped up in a pat way that seemed more in service of making a point about the world's population and offering a magic bullet to put the world right than in telling a really good story. All of which is not to say that the ride wasn't a lot of fun--I enjoyed reading about the art and the architecture and following the story. This book would be a great beach read.

Four Queens: The Provencal Sisters Who Ruled Europe by Nancy Goldstone

This book is part biography and part history. It's about the four daughters of Raymond Berenger, count of Provence. Marguerite and Eleanor marry the kings of France (Louis IX) and England (Henry III), respectively, and the two younger daughters marry their sisters' brothers-in-law. Both of these brothers are crowned kings in their own right (although they do less ruling). Sanchia marries Richard of Cornwall, who is briefly king of Germany, and Beatrice inherits Provence and marries Charles of Anjou who takes the throne of Sicily. I was very interested in the power politics behind the thrones, and I loved reading the history associated with these four women. I was surprised by how much a king's prowess in battle mattered in the Middle Ages, and by how religious Louis and Henry both were. I also enjoyed a minor theory expounded in the book: while earlier Provence had been the center of a literary movement (troubadours writing poems about courtly love) after Raymond Berenger died, there was no count (and thus no court) in residence in Provence (Beatrice lived in Sicily, and in other places, after her marriage), so there was not the same support for the arts, and the interest in love poetry moved south--to Italy.

Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco

This book centers around three editors for a vanity press in Milan. When the press decides to start publishing a series on the occult, the editors, up to their ears in conspiracy theories, decide to create their own version of the Plan, by which the Templars secretly went into hiding in the fourteenth century, and which they were supposed to use to return to power in 1944. But as the conspirators cook up the Plan, they realize that others are taking their game very seriously. Part of this book is a fun conspiracy story--it puts together an almost-plausible narrative that links the Templars with other mysterious groups through the ages (and has a ton of literary and cultural in-jokes, to book). What separates this book from something like The Da Vinci Code, though, is that the other part of the book is so moving. Belpo and Causabon, in particular, are well-developed characters, and the reader comes to understand that their manic devotion to finding the truth behind these conspiracy theories (which in the book are lined up like a house of cards) is about a lack of meaning in their day-to-day lives (which they only realize too late) rather than from any value inherent in the theories. I really enjoyed this story.

The Prague Cemetery by Umberto Eco

This book has an extremely unpleasant main character with a split personality. When the book opens he's trying to determine his identity, which he can barely remember, and whose stability is compromised by garments and accoutrements that seem to belong to two lives rather than one. As the book goes on, the main character, Simonini, his alter ego, the Abbé Della Piccola, and the narrator work together to reconstruct Simonini's activities. Despite the main character's reprehensible views, the book is fascinating, as it ties together a wide range of nineteenth century conspiracy theories (from the Paris Commune to the Dreyfus Affair). It also reflects on the nature of forgery and on the difference between fabula and syuzhet--the latter in an afterword that traces the structure of the plot. Despite the complexities of the plot and theme, this book was easy to slip into and enjoyable to read.

Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino

In this book Marco Polo claims to describe the fantastic cities of Kubla Khan's empire to the Mogul emperor. Instead, it seems that he's always dancing around the memory of Venice, which overshadows these incredible (and constantly changing) cities. I really appreciated the book's work in thinking through what it means to know a city.

The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje

This novel, a gentle portrait of the brief interactions between four people who come together in an abandoned Italian villa during the final days of World War Two, gives an account of the tentative and fragile process of healing. Although not much happens, much is revealed in this beautiful book. Booker award winner (shared), 1992.

Where Angels Fear to Tread

This novel surprised me. I expected it to be about Lilia, on whose departure it opens, but it was nothing of the sort. Her family (really, in-laws from her first marriage) is deliciously snobby and prudish, of course, and when her brother- and sister-in-law go to Italy to straighten out the man she married and recover the son she left after she dies, things get tricky. Italy is supposed, of course, to change both Caroline Abbot (Lilia's erstwhile companion, whom they meet down there) and Phillip Herritan (her brother-in-law) for the better; At first I was a little unconvinced by the change, but now that I think about it, both characters seem magnificently drawn. These two created the center of the novel for me, (though who wouldn't like Gino, especially in his second appearance), and of course the painful irony of the end is what teaches Phillip perhaps the most telling lesson of all.