I am reading The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco for the second time. Considering all the books I have waiting to be read it seems a little decadent to read this one again, but I enjoyed it so much the first time I read it that I feel it is a worthy indulgence. Plus I need some moody fiction to fill the void until the next Harry Potter book is published. To add depth to my reading experience this time through I picked up a copy of The Key to "The Name of the Rose" by Haft, White and White. It includes translations of all the non-English passages in the book, plus some handy reference sections such as "An Annotated Guide to the Historical and Literary References in The Name of the Rose." This should be fun.
In the first few pages of The Name of the Rose I came across this passage:
"I completed a translation, using some of those large notebooks from the Papeterie Joseph Gibert in which it is so pleasant to write if you use a felt-tip pen."
I am naturally curious about this little detail inserted casually at the beginning of this very complex story. As a Moleskine notebook enthusiast, any reference to the merits of a particular notebook attracts my attention. Additionally I am someone who is admittedly biased in my appreciation for the superiority of European-made stationery products. I did a pretty thorough Google search on "Papeterie Joseph Gibert", to see if Eco was mentioning an actual business, but was unable to find anything conclusive. I would be interested in hearing anything related to this passage, especially if anyone knows for certain what type of notebooks he is referring to.
In my search I did come across this insightful passage on Eco's notebook reference (on THIS website):
"Authors often use seemingly irrelevant references to
mundane objects to foreshadow broader textual
elements. The importance of writing material is
particularly prominent in fiction using the recovered
manuscript as a plot device. Umberto Eco, Edgar Allan
Poe and Paul Auster all use writing material for
foreshadowing plot or to illuminate the inner workings
of characters."
In addition to explaining Eco's notebook reference this also offers an explanation for the connection between my fancy for modern notebooks (especially of the Moleskine variety) and my fascination with ancient manuscripts. I love the concept of a recovered manuscript or discovered artifact as a plot device. This is the single most compelling element that attracts me to books like The Name of the Rose. The "lost manuscript found" captures the fantasy of ancient wisdom revealed. I can't quite shake the feeling that we have traded off a greater part of our earlier gains in wisdom for technological advances, so the idea that there may still be some old wisdom out there to be rediscovered, even if it is just in fiction, is tantalizing indeed. This also explains in part the voracious success of The Da Vinci Code, in that it seems to offer a key to discovering lost wisdom. The backlash for that book only began to arise when people overlooked the most important function of the writing, that it is a work of fiction. But I digress. . .
Back to Eco: As a reader of this blog you are most likely a Moleskine enthusiast too. Doesn't that line from The Name of the Rose peak your interest? Don't you want to know all the details of Eco's fictitious notebooks? And what kind of pen? A felt-tip; perhaps something along the lines of a Flair (since this book was written in 1980, before the birth of the gel pen)? The hidden meaning underneath this innate curiosity for the perfect pen, the perfect notebook with the perfect paper, may have more to do with the desire to create the kind of "lost manuscript" for future generations: a relic of the future's past.
At the very least, it means you will be a sucker for The Name of the Rose, and may even find yourself reading it for a second time.
Click on the image above for a larger version. This image features my own "lost manuscript": Alchemy Notebook pages from my pocket Moleskine sketchbook.
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