Umberto Eco - a literary giant passes away

Umberto Eco - a literary giant passes away.

The Sforza’s led the renaissance in Italy: Francesco and Ludovico - Father and son not only consolidated the military ambitions of Milan, but also led a cultural and intellectual efflorescence that was to dazzle and provide momentum for a thousand other works of art conceived during that brilliant age. Their castle at Milan , fondly called the Sforza palace, was their artistic apogee. Adorned and embellished by DaVinci, Fortified by Bramante, it has held court to some of the greatest intellectuals, poets, dramatists of that age, and it was fitting in modern times, that the body of the one of the accomplished writers of its soil was laid in state within those spacious walls on 20th of February 2016. Umberto Eco, the Italian thinker, philosopher, novelist, essayist, symbolist, critic and a fit successor to the literary genius of Dante died peacefully in bed earlier this month, giving up his two year tryst with Pancreatic cancer. Like Dante, Eco was convinced that “Life is a divine comedy; respect the divinity but don't lose sight of the comedy”

None can better sum his sixty years of literary work better than Eco himself. In 2012, In his own inimitable, sparkling manner he told his interviewer, who questioned him on the secret of prodigious output as an novelist : “I am a philosopher, I write Novels only on weekends”. And rightly so!!. Out of 50 odd published works, only seven of them are full length novels, rest belong to diverse fields such as semiotics, essays on art and arcane theological studies of medieval times. His father wanted him to become a lawyer, but he ended being a philosopher. Thankfully for us, he remained one throughout his life.

It was in 1980, his most popular novel “Name of the rose” was published. Few books in history have had the kind of reception that this novel got. After years of studying Borges and Joyce, Eco produced a medieval gothic novel set in a Cistercian monastery, holding a terrible secret; and introduced a Monk and his apprentice to solve its mystery. Written in Italian ( as all his novels were), Translated brilliantly by William Weaver, educated readers were taken on a journey as they have never experienced before. Filled with arcane theological details, vibrant with febrile colors of monastic description, scrupulous characterization based on Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes, plot seething with masterful diversions and intellectual divagations - the book flowed into five odd pages of difficult reading. But people did read!!. Eco’s fundamental belief was that readers in the modern age wanted to be challenged intellectually, emotionally and culturally, and mass fiction was only treating them as imbecile spectators. A book should involve the entire being of a reader as much as it does of the writer. And with every reader, a new layer of meaning must be pealed. This was Eco’s approach to writing in general. So when “Name of the rose” came out, readers were initially irritated, critics were smirking, but slowly -as more and more readers boldly ventured to read through the book, they found a rich experience of satisfaction at all levels. They came out intellectually richer, more then sufficiently entertained, and definitely wanting more of Eco’s writing. Translated into more than 40 languages, Eco had achieved what authors dream of - success of their debut novel beyond all sense of expectation. But for him, this proved to be an impediment. He was compelled to write more like that, but Eco resisted, and instead turned to different aspects of literature and learning for each of his other novels. However, None of the others : “Focualt’s pendulum”, “Prague cemetery”, “The mysterious flame of Queen Loana” , “Baudalino”- to name a few , reached the levels of acceptance that his first book got, but Eco wasn't bothered. Like the other great writer Gabriel Marquez who could never achieve the fame of “One hundred days of solitude” with any of his other works, Eco knew and acknowledged the pulse of this enterprise. He knew his epitaph would only carry the fame of his first book, and was reconciled to it.

Personally, Eco’ work has had a deep influence on me. His writing introduced me to a world of syncretic learning, where nothing is left out, and everything needs to be embraced. Literature, religion, science, philosophy – all of it is part of a larger human enterprise, and the bets minds are ones not partial to any. Both, the Durant’s (Historians) and Umberto Eco have sown in me a passion towards eclectic studies and a love of knowledge, which has over time grown to become my passion and better-half. Also, Eco spent his time equally in two homes, one in Milan and other in Urbino - host to more than 50,000 books , mostly rare and esoteric works long out of print. He loved his books, and he believed that the sight of unread books all around was a humble reminder on how much more knowledge needed exploration. Somehow, that thirst for books and a deep pleasure in buying, treasuring them from rare book stores , wherever I go, is an interest that Eco’s life sparked in me.

The final meaning behind Eco’s work lay in his abiding interest in Semiotics - a study of meaning and symbols in language and daily life. In a sense, he strongly advocated that words and events are only symbols of a more profound truth, and to reach there, both the writer and the reader must embark on a unique journey together. Eco was a distinguished master of five languages, and his past time of reading dictionaries, amply reflected in his academic and popular works as arcane symbols and unpredictable meanings. His attempt in novels was to bridge that gap between a good story, intellectual enrichment, personal sense of involvement and a comic satire in the reading process. The world will agree; he definitely succeeded in that goal.

It is ironic, or in a way fitting, that I finished reading “The Island of the Day before” - the only Eco novel that I had not read – on 14th of Feb. When I closed the book, I sent out a loving wave of gratitude to this great man and wished him many more years of active literary life. He was eighty four already, but I felt, Eco would live much longer. So much energy and verve was still left in him. Five days later, he quietly passed away, leaving behind an unpublished work, an English translation of which will be released by end of this year. It is not a novel, but a collection of his critical essays. But I would read anything he has written. They always sparkle with insights.

As I finish this essay, I turn around to look at my bookshelf to see my collection of ten of Eco’s books , lined alongside each other. Together, they span 8000 pages of his distilled thinking and stories. I am sure, more will added in years to come. And I will probably end up re-reading some of these works ( I have read “Name of the rose” at least three times) hoping some of his symbols will acquire better clarity and depth as time passes. I look forward to that experience.

Italians love life, and their culture reflects that spirit of living. Umberto Eco – it's prodigal son - despite the seriousness of his works, took life lightly and lived it in a spirit of laughter. Speaking on the subject of laughter, which was one of his underlying themes, he once told his interviewer : “ Laughter has always fascinated me… Man is the only laughing animal, because, unlike other animals he know he has to die…”

I am confident, Eco would now be laughing his guts out from wherever he is.

God bless…

Yours in mortality,

Bala