I know, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t read pop fiction. I do better with novels which the test of time has chosen to be enduring; not the flavor of the month. But occasionally I’m looking for some light reading, and it sold forty million copies; how could I go wrong? Besides, Tom Hanks did such a great job in the movie – he must have had good material to work with, right?

Wrong.

Reading “The Da Vinci Code” was like when you go to the supermarket and you troll the aisles because you’re hungry but instead of landing in the produce aisle to buy apples or pears you end up buying a pound of gummy bears. A guilty pleasure, but you knew that. Then you eat it, and all you feel is kind of bloated and just a little nasty.

Reading “The Da Vinci Code” is like that.

Bad metaphors, no meaning, listless, limp characters and canned dialogue. Really just bad.

Again, I know, I’m at fault. I should not have expected any different. But for you, don’t read this book – you will be better for it.