Thursday, 30 October 2014 10:25 am
Book Review: The Dante Club
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deckardcanineMy mom gave me this book some years ago, along with her old copy of John Ciardi's translation of The Inferno, because she thought I might need a refresher course. I didn't; after 14-15 years, I could remember every punishment for every sin in chronological order, which was more than I needed.
Matthew Pearl's 2003 murder mystery takes place in Boston mere months after the Lincoln assassination. As in real history, we have a group of men working on the first American translation of The Divine Comedy, tho their numbers have been reduced for simplicity. Leading the project is the oldest and most famous of these men, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, but Oliver Wendell Holmes and James Russell Lowell have their admirers as well. On the nonpoetic side, the Dante Club also includes publisher J.T. Fields and historian George Washington Greene. Other real-life figures, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, make fleeting appearances in the story. (Sheesh, did no one disregard their middle names in those days?) Portraits indicate that all my mental pictures of these men were very wrong. In Pearl's portrayal at least, Lowell has my favorite personality, being the most boisterous and quirky, such as in his belief that every accomplished man was at least part Jewish.
By and by, one member realizes that recent grisly murders of public figures in Boston parallel some of the harshest punishments in The Inferno, except of course they're not eternal. From there, it's not as simple as scholars helping with detective work. For one thing, since hardly anyone in the U.S. knows much of Dante, they themselves would be the prime suspects if they went to the police. Second, Greene has such a poor constitution that the rest of the club decides not to tell him about the case, limiting their opportunities to talk about it. Third and most importantly, much as the club could wax eloquent about how Dante trumps Milton and basically any other writer, many outsiders oppose the translation out of xenophobia, anti-Catholicism, and/or distrust of any Americans doing it justice. If word got out that Dante inspired horrible fates, it would kill their project.
The four amateur detectives do not have the greatest of confidence, of course. They don't firmly agree on how to go about it, especially when their own lives might be at stake. Sometimes they wonder if they'd best give up on Dante.
Adding to these complications is Nicholas Rey, Boston's (fictional) first partly Black patrolman. Chief Kurtz likes him, but he had to agree to many compromises, such as no arresting White people in the absence of White officers. The sleazy private detectives don't welcome his help, either. In perhaps the most contrived aspect of the story, Rey comes to suspect many of the right things and infer that the Dante Club, whom he approaches for a translation of a suicide message, has been withholding key information. Will he charge them, tell the rest of the force their findings, or aid them in secret?
The Dante Club doesn't feel like a first novel. Pearl did plenty of research, spelled out in detail in the back; I felt that I learned many things, even if a few terms are tricky to look up ("fussock," not "fossock"). He makes no blatant rookie writing mistakes. And he defied my worries that the stuffily old-fashioned academic setting would make it boring or that the premise would turn unenjoyable like an extended Se7en. (It helps that the victims are less innocent herein.)
The book also includes the first chapter of Pearl's Poe's Shadow, set a bit earlier in Baltimore. I expect to read that someday. Incidentally, I heard last night that my dad, who grew up in Baltimore, never read a full poem or story by Poe. I set out an anthology from school so we can read it together in between trick-or-treaters tomorrow.
In the meantime, maybe it's my Halloween mood, but I picked up the second entry in the Gravediggers series, Terror Cove. One thing's for sure: The heroes will need a different tactic from last time.
Matthew Pearl's 2003 murder mystery takes place in Boston mere months after the Lincoln assassination. As in real history, we have a group of men working on the first American translation of The Divine Comedy, tho their numbers have been reduced for simplicity. Leading the project is the oldest and most famous of these men, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, but Oliver Wendell Holmes and James Russell Lowell have their admirers as well. On the nonpoetic side, the Dante Club also includes publisher J.T. Fields and historian George Washington Greene. Other real-life figures, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, make fleeting appearances in the story. (Sheesh, did no one disregard their middle names in those days?) Portraits indicate that all my mental pictures of these men were very wrong. In Pearl's portrayal at least, Lowell has my favorite personality, being the most boisterous and quirky, such as in his belief that every accomplished man was at least part Jewish.
By and by, one member realizes that recent grisly murders of public figures in Boston parallel some of the harshest punishments in The Inferno, except of course they're not eternal. From there, it's not as simple as scholars helping with detective work. For one thing, since hardly anyone in the U.S. knows much of Dante, they themselves would be the prime suspects if they went to the police. Second, Greene has such a poor constitution that the rest of the club decides not to tell him about the case, limiting their opportunities to talk about it. Third and most importantly, much as the club could wax eloquent about how Dante trumps Milton and basically any other writer, many outsiders oppose the translation out of xenophobia, anti-Catholicism, and/or distrust of any Americans doing it justice. If word got out that Dante inspired horrible fates, it would kill their project.
The four amateur detectives do not have the greatest of confidence, of course. They don't firmly agree on how to go about it, especially when their own lives might be at stake. Sometimes they wonder if they'd best give up on Dante.
Adding to these complications is Nicholas Rey, Boston's (fictional) first partly Black patrolman. Chief Kurtz likes him, but he had to agree to many compromises, such as no arresting White people in the absence of White officers. The sleazy private detectives don't welcome his help, either. In perhaps the most contrived aspect of the story, Rey comes to suspect many of the right things and infer that the Dante Club, whom he approaches for a translation of a suicide message, has been withholding key information. Will he charge them, tell the rest of the force their findings, or aid them in secret?
The Dante Club doesn't feel like a first novel. Pearl did plenty of research, spelled out in detail in the back; I felt that I learned many things, even if a few terms are tricky to look up ("fussock," not "fossock"). He makes no blatant rookie writing mistakes. And he defied my worries that the stuffily old-fashioned academic setting would make it boring or that the premise would turn unenjoyable like an extended Se7en. (It helps that the victims are less innocent herein.)
The book also includes the first chapter of Pearl's Poe's Shadow, set a bit earlier in Baltimore. I expect to read that someday. Incidentally, I heard last night that my dad, who grew up in Baltimore, never read a full poem or story by Poe. I set out an anthology from school so we can read it together in between trick-or-treaters tomorrow.
In the meantime, maybe it's my Halloween mood, but I picked up the second entry in the Gravediggers series, Terror Cove. One thing's for sure: The heroes will need a different tactic from last time.