Chuck, Bob and Umberto
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Chuck, Bob and Umberto

As I re-read key passages from THE MYSTERIOUS FLAME OF

QUEEN LOANA, I’m struck by the bigness and the

boldness of what essentially amounts to a literary

self-portrait.

I’m struck, too, by the somewhat surprising

accessibility of the novel and the emotional core of

the protagonist it so eloquently documents.

(I guess I’m easily frightened by vaguely defined

arenas of academia like “semiotics,” and because

Umberto Eco teaches semiotics, feared the worst: a

nightmare jumble of obscure symbols understandable

only to a select few, anti-social intellectuals

cloistered amidst ancient Latin texts in the

smoke-filled faculty clubs of European universities.)

Surprise! This novel, though certainly not Lit Lite,

proves to be a relatively breezy and thoroughly

engrossing read.

I couldn’t help but compare it, in my annoyingly

English major manner, to two recent and culturally

analogous events:

1) Martin Scorsese’s Bob Dylan bio on PBS

2) The Chuck Close show at the Walker.

The Dylan bio hammered home the point of Dylan’s

continual struggle with self-identity and his endless

efforts to reinvent himself both as a musician and a

public persona (performer), sometimes purposefully

blurring the line between fact and fiction.

Likewise, the Chuck Close show highlighted the

artist’s continual return to earlier images of

himself, and his continued efforts to manipulate and

reassemble those images.

“I cannot let myself go, I want to know who I am. One

thing is certain. The memories that surfaced at the

beginning of what I believe to be my coma are obscure,

foggy, and arranged in patchwork fashion with breaks,

uncertainties, missing pieces… that is how we do it

in normal life, too: we could suppose we have been

deceived by some evil genius, but in order to be able

to move forward we behave as if everything we see is

real.”

p. 419

The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana

by Umberto Eco

(NOTE: The Artist’s Bookshelf starts Thursday, Oct. 6, at 7 p.m.)

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