Saturday, February 20, 2010

The manuscript

Any thoughts on the narration — Adso recounting a story of his youth in old age — and what about the introductory part about his manuscript floating around in the 20th century? Do you think that adds anything to the story?
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10 comments:

Erin said...

I would say that in general, I'm not a fan of that kind of framing. Maybe it's because of that book "Memoirs of a Geisha," which had a similar frame. I actually met someone once who believed the frame was real -- that an elderly former geisha had written her life story and was then discovered by a writer in New York City. That extreme dumbness kind of turned me off of the whole concept.

In this case, though, it was kind of neat, especially since the book seemed so authentic and had so much overlap with real historical figures and events.

1:58 PM, February 24, 2010
kc said...

"I actually met someone once who believed the frame was real."

That wasn't me, was it?

2:16 PM, February 24, 2010
Erin said...

Ha! No, it was someone in college. You didn't believe it, too, did you? If so, sorry about the "extreme dumbness" remark.

2:57 PM, February 24, 2010
kc said...

No, I don't think I believed that was real. Hehe. (But I have sometimes been known to be gullible and/or entirely miss the point of a book.) I didn't even remember that frame in "Geisha" until you mentioned it. That book didn't impress me much. Some white American dude trying to write a first-person narrative about an Asian geisha would probably have to resort to the "found manuscript" trick to be at all convincing.

I didn't mind the frame in "Name," but I don't know that it needed it. I mean, I pretty much completely forgot about it as I was reading. And the frame isn't revisited at the end. I found the idea that the guy's traveling companion ran off with the manuscript detracted from rather than enhanced the feeling that Adso's story was real.

3:14 PM, February 24, 2010
Erin said...

Oh yes, I found that part so stupid. What would his estranged lover want with some Medieval manuscript? What was the point of that?

9:41 PM, February 24, 2010
cl said...

I couldn't think what the "found manuscript" added later -- that extra layer of remote storytelling. I agree it would have posed some confusion for readers whether this was authentic. There was no Wikipedia when this was published for one to surreptitiously look up the facts and then be in the know.

But maybe there's this: I was bracing myself for William's death to be the final, tragic culmination of the murders. He'd die protecting Adso or the girl, or confront the killer or so on. Instead -- and I love this -- the library was the final victim. I think for the author this repository of great, irreplaceable knowledge was the ultimate sacrifice. So maybe the fictional introduction was a belated salve for the readers that all this precious knowledge was lost, but the story lives on to modern times because someone recorded it -- much like how in ancient times that sort of foresight made the library possible to begin with.

11:10 AM, February 28, 2010
cl said...

Or the author was vexed with a woman from his past and wrote her in as the sort of malignant soul who would make off with a valuable manuscript over a lover's quarrel. I like that theory, too. Maybe he told her that her belly was a heap of wheat set about with lilies and she took it the wrong way.

(Sorry. I'll stop.)

11:14 AM, February 28, 2010
kc said...

Christy, you genius, you've touched on the meaning of the book, I think! You say: So maybe the fictional introduction was a belated salve for the readers that all this precious knowledge was lost, but the story lives on to modern times because someone recorded it -- much like how in ancient times that sort of foresight made the library possible to begin with.

The last line of the book, which relates to the title, is chilling. "Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus" translates as "Yesterday's rose endures in its name; we hold empty names."

All things come to an end, except the idea of those things, the name of those things, stories about those things (as long as there's someone to have the idea and say the name and read the story).

Why do you think it's significant that Adso never knew the girl's name?

8:29 PM, March 01, 2010
kc said...

On the Fifth Day, Adso ruminates: Who of us is able to say now whether Hector or Achilles was right, Agamemnon or Priam, when they fought over the beauty of a woman who is now dust and ashes.

(I love that he uses a pagan reference here)

By the end of the book, the girl is dust and ashes like Helen of Troy, and like the library itself.

8:40 PM, March 01, 2010
Erin said...

Wonderful! You guys have hit on something here. I love the idea that the library was the final victim and that Adso's account was the only saving grace.

I also loved that line about Hector and Achilles.

9:40 PM, March 03, 2010

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