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At midnight on Monday evening, copies of the latest book by Dan Brown,
The Lost Symbol, went on sale to interested consumers of fast paced bullshit. A direct sequel to
The Da Vinci Code, the new novel features Brown's go-to protagonist Robert Langdon, performing all manner of breathtaking off-the-cuff art appreciation while on the run from shadowy forces. More than that, Brown's latest is a stirring gong clash for the publishing world: proof that you don't need wizards or vampires to make your book a bestseller, so long as you write for a fifth grade audience.
To prepare for this event, last night I camped out at my local bookstore to get a copy. Cracked doesn't rely on advance copies for review, as those are frequently sent out to reviewers in fragrant, jewel encrusted wrappings, perhaps to tempt less upstanding critics into squeezing more favorable reviews out into the toilet bowls that are their respective publications. That's right, here at Cracked we buy our copies for review, if not shoplift them outright.
That's Our Commitment To You.
Six hectic hours of caffeine fueled reading later and I'm here to report to you on whether this book is worth your time or, more accurately, whether the first 80 and last six pages are worth your time. The short answer: Yes, but only because
we both know how valuable your time is.
The novel begins with Robert Langdon being invited to speak at a conference in Washington by a man who will inevitably die in the first few pages. Sure enough, after arriving in the Capitol building, he discovers a gruesome murder scene laden with dense Masonic imagery and blood. Langdon then spends the next couple of pages kicking down doors and looking behind curtains, trying to find who's fucking with him. He is pissed. “Who do you think I am, fucking Angela Lansbury?” he screams.
With no response forthcoming to his query, Langdon reluctantly takes on the role of elderly woman detective one more time, to investigate this murder and the preposterous circumstances behind it. As was widely rumored, Freemasonry plays a key role in this novel, particular its ties to Washington - both the man and the city. A whirlwind trip around D.C. offers scenes set in the Capitol building, the Library of Congress and the Smithsonian, where Langdon decodes some of the dense symbolism present in the famous works of art there. The central secret all these works point to is too good to spoil, but let's just say that George Washington's penis was made out of solid diamond and he used it to communicate with aliens. I won't say anything more.