By Umberto Eco
Tired of their paintings, 3 Milanese editors cook dinner up "the Plan," a hoax that connects the medieval Knights Templar with different occult teams from old to fashionable instances. This produces a map indicating the geographical element from which the entire powers of the earth will be controlled—a aspect situated in Paris, France, at Foucault’s Pendulum. yet in a fateful flip the funny story turns into all too genuine, and whilst occult teams, together with Satanists, get wind of the Plan, they pass as far as to kill one of many editors of their quest to realize keep watch over of the earth.
Orchestrating those and different different characters into his multilayered semiotic experience, Eco has created an exceptional cerebral entertainment.
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Additional info for Foucault's Pendulum
Sample text
It was to be a night of surprises. Walking around a bend in the road, I saw standing beside a small mound of stones the figure of a woman. Her body glowed even as mine. She stood naked with her back to me, unaware of my approach. As I drew near, the strangeness of her nature revealed itself. Through the glowing mist of her transparent torso I was able to distinguish the rocks that lay beyond her on the desert. Stopping behind her almost near enough to touch, I spoke. She trembled and slowly turned.
Nothing stirred within its cover. I sniffed the air. It was laden with a curious sweet fragrance. The point of my dagger easily penetrated the thick felt. I sawed the blade back and forth slowly to avoid noise, then climbed onto the hub of the wheel and pushed my head through the slit. Within the wagon it was very dark. Had the enhancement of my vision caused by the white spiders endured, I would have been able to see its contents easily, for the spiders made radiant not only anything having life, but anything formerly alive such as the very wood of the wagon, or anything possessed of life force, such as the djinn.
What he said in their language was obscure, but by his gesturing and intonations he might have been describing the fall of Troy to the armies of the Greeks. I felt no cynicism, but only satisfaction that turned to pride when I heard my own name spoken, and the females and young of the clan looked at me with wide eyes. After consulting with the elders, Gor gave me a dwelling place that had belonged to one of the slain, a hole dug beneath a sheltering ledge of stone that guarded the opening from the sun.