"The Island of the Day Before" by Umberto Eco

I have strange relationship with Italian writer Umberto Eco - he is undoubtedly an extremely interesting, talented and erudite man who gained international fame with his best-selling medieval mystery thriller "The Name of the Rose" back in the 1980s and it seems to me that ever since people expect him to continue in the same style (some other writers even made career out of copying this path) though he decidedly follows his own muse and goes in other directions. The name is here, the fame is here but I don't think that the old man really cares to be spoken in the same breath with new best-selling authors - his writing style and education is way above new kids on the block and seems he does what he wants - in other words, Dan Brown can count his millions but he is just a school boy compared to Eco, who in fact is an philosopher, literary critic and professor at University of Bologna.

This is the novel I finally finished in a second attempt.
The first time around, I simply couldn't wrap my head around such a strange book where "nothing is happening" (Lewis Carol's Alice would also add "what is the point of the book without pictures in it") and after some valiant attempts, gave up and left it aside, forever destined to patiently wait on my bookshelf, waiting for another chance. Fast forward few years later and after plowing trough "The Prague Cemetery", here am I,  the head still buzzing from Eco's writing and perhaps this time I am somehow better prepared to face him again - I had purposely took this book with me with firm mission to finally read it all the way trough. And so I did, clenching teeth and all.

Umberto Eco is demanding writer.
Even genius perhaps, in any case he is slightly intimidating with all this knowledge, erudition and education - as for his writing style, here he consciously follows extremely flowery prose style of writers from 18th century like Laurence Sterne, Daniel Defoe of Jonathan Swift - guys who would mix comic prose with lengthy chapters that go nowhere except in sidelining everything and holding the story line in a limbo. This was what probably bothered me the first time around, as "The Island of the day before" simply meandered way too much for my taste - there IS a story frame somewhere in here, about a shipwrecked Roberto della Griva who finds himself on a deserted ship, looking at the mysterious island and unable to swim there - and for the rest of the novel he reminisce about his past life and slowly descends into madness. I don't know what was wrong with me back than but I left it unfinished - this time I started from the beginning and plowed my way trough, but I must admit I skipped occasional chunk and the feeling was one of the task more than of reading pleasure. It is a strange, how we read the book the second time around from a different perspective and I must be a different person at this point, because I actually find it interesting - maybe I even understand it a tiny bit more than earlier - in any case it helped that I was still fresh from another novel by same writer so my brain was kind of trained for Eco's style - he is definitely not a writer for audience looking for lot of action and cliffhanger thriller. His writing style here is extremely flowery, he purposely meanders left and right, goes into all sorts of 18th century philosophy and allusions, so much that occasionally I sighted, wanting him to return to the story. And now when I finally finished the novel, the feeling is one of the relief - like I just chopped my way trough a jungle - not that I am any wiser, since I definitely have to re-read it again to connect the missing pieces and to understand more of nuances this man simply throws out of his sleeves. He might even be one of the few very rare living literary geniuses around today - but because he is so demanding, I need to continue with his work immediately when my brain is still relatively used to his wave-lenght or else I will find it too difficult to face him later. I had really suffered trough this one.

p.s.
Umberto Eco is Cervantes of our day - there is lot of meandering here but I really liked some of the characters, notably Father Caspar who is such an lovable eccentric (and ends up at the bottom of the sea under metal bell, devised to walk on sea floor!). Honestly, I fought with this book but I will remember it much more than some other easily digested stuff. It is an unforgettable feast. I must also add excellent translation by William Weaver who brought all of this to english language readers. I will probably turn to another Umberto Eco novel very soon.