What do you think?
Rate this book


589 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006
BookBeeBee open The Da Vinci Code and brain feels like it just sat down in airport for long layover. Symbologist man Robert Langdon gets yanked into murder-mystery in Louvre. There is body, codes, secret society, Holy Grail chase, pretty cryptologist lady, evil monk, car chases, museum tours. Sounds fun-fun. And sometimes it is. But also… oof.
Every person in this book talks like walking Wikipedia article. Nobody just says “hi.” They say, “As you know, Sophie, in 1099 the Knights Templar blah blah,” and then turn toward invisible classroom. Dialogue is less “two humans talking,” more “PowerPoint with shoes.” BeeBee keeps wanting to hand them water and say, “You know you can have personality too, right?”
Plot is Scooby-Doo on fast-forward. Clue leads to clue leads to clue: paintings, churches, keys, boxes. Some puzzles are neat-neat; others feel like author whispering “look how smart I am” while hoping you don’t actually fact-check. History bends, theology gets blendered, real groups and symbols get turned into spooky prop pieces. If you read it as serious truth, your brain will grow wrong branches. If you read it as loud fanfic with Jesus conspiracy hat on, it’s… less harmful, still goofy.
Characters are flat like cardboard cutouts holding signs. Langdon’s main traits: owns Mickey Mouse watch, knows trivia, always “puzzled” but never really shaken. Sophie mostly exists to ask, “What does that mean, Robert?” so he can lecture more. Villains are cartoon-dramatic: albino monk hitman, sneery church men, shadowy rich puppeteer. BeeBee feels like they all escaped from different, worse novels and got glued together.
Writing itself is simple-simple, which is okay. But it’s also clunky. Short chapters end with fake-fake tension: “Little did he know, tonight everything would change.” “What he saw next made his blood run cold.” Turn page, it’s just another room and more explaining. BeeBee starts to see behind curtain: this isn’t mystery, it’s strip of cliffhangers stitched together for people who don’t like to stop reading on calm note.
Biggest sin? Not the silly history. Not even the cardboard cast. It’s how seriously the book takes itself while being this dumb-dumb. It wants to blow your mind about faith, art, patriarchy, all the big topics—but mostly just slaps stickers on church doors and yells, “What if… secret?” For some readers, it works and sparks interest in actual art history. For others, it just leaves fake-fact residue everywhere.
BeeBee closes book not angry, just tired. This is fast food for the brain: salty, quick, full of empty calories and wild claims about “ancient secrets” that collapse if you poke them once.
Word I learned: Expositrain
Means: a story that never stops to breathe because it’s too busy dumping fact-fact (real or fake) out of every character’s mouth while yelling “shocking revelation!” at each new tourist stop.