Let’s begin with the obvious. Dan Brown’s new novel, following the epic success of “The Da Vinci Code,’’ will be a commercial triumph, a bookselling behemoth that should boost the tottering publishing industry. Nothing will keep the legions of Brown’s fans from spending late nights curled up reading the latest doings of his literary hero, Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon.
Higher book sales and more readers are certainly good things, but what’s less so in this latest adventure is Brown’s paint-by-numbers plot, his wooden dialogue, his dull prose style, his unintentionally comic narrative grandeur, and his two-dimensional characters. Even Brown’s most rabid fans don’t need a secret decoder ring to know that his prose is leaden (No editor’s alchemy could transform it into gold), and that his characters sound more like mouthpieces for the author’s off-the-wall philosophizing about the nature of God than they do real human beings.