The Da Vinci Code is a great work of fiction, but it seemed particularly suitable for my reading. I’ll avoid any spoilers, but anyone reading it will recognize the abundant coincidences between the book’s themes and my life:
I was brought up Roman Catholic. My brother has joined the Society of Jesus and has spent a lot of time immersed in hispanic cultures, with their nearly ubiquitous adoption of Holy Mary as an icon.
Growing up, I was fascinated with the Arthurian legends, which led me to study Celtic lore and the integration of pagan faiths into Christianity. (In particular, I found the origin of holidays fascinating and used Samhain as an online pseudonym for many years.)
Always interested in the patterns of nature, I immediately recognized the Fibonacci references and often cite Phi as my favorite number.
My first visit to Paris was recent enough that much of the book’s settings were recognizable.
Leonardo Da Vinci is a personal hero of sorts, one of the few (perhaps only) nonfiction books about people I own is a discussion of his lesser-known works.
I read the entire book while flying to Portland, the City of Roses.
So, much of the book struck chords of familiarity that made it irresistible.