By Paul Carrier
Lucas Corso is a Spanish book sleuth, a hard-boiled, gin-soaked loner who, for a fee, will hunt down old and rare manuscripts, and locate experts who can determine whether they are forgeries.
That may sound like a career that makes for a sedate life. But Corso finds himself immersed in a dark, brooding web of occultism and violence when he tries to authenticate two documents for bibliophiles: a 17th-century book that supposedly allows readers to summon the Devil, and what appears to be Alexandre Dumas’ original copy of chapter 42 from The Three Musketeers.
The Nine Doors, as the tome with Devil-worshipping overtones is called, belongs to a well-to-do book lover who claims it is a forgery and hires Corso to learn the truth, which requires tracking down the two other known copies to determine which one of the three, if any, is the original.
As for The Anjou Wine, the title of the chapter by Dumas, it belongs to Corso’s friend Flavio La Ponte, who bought it from a publisher only days before the seller was found dead, seemingly a suicide.
The deeper Corso delves into the history of these works, the more dangerous his research becomes, both to himself and others. Even more intriguing, though, is that The Nine Doors, with its satanic overtones, and The Anjou Wine seem to be linked somehow, as Corso discovers when he encounters people who resemble characters from The Three Musketeers.
In the midst of all this, Corso befriends - or is befriended by - a mysterious young woman who becomes his companion, lover and protector. She obviously is far more than she appears to be on the surface - a demon, perhaps, or an angel. But initially, Corso is unable to pin down her true nature, or why she has entered his life. She uses the pseudonym Irene Adler, which, Corso realizes, is the name of a character created by Arthur Conan Doyle.
Arturo Pérez-Reverte, whose works include the swashbuckling Captain Alatriste novels set in 17th-century Spain, displays his fondness for derring-do in The Club Dumas as well, although the setting is more contemporary. (The novel was published in 1993, and seems to be set in that period.) His evocative style lends a dark, baroque edge to the proceedings, while giving readers wonderfully etched characterizations.
Corso has “an oblique, distant laugh, with a hint of insolence, the kind of laugh that lingers in the air after it stops.” His Portuguese friend, Amilcar Pinto, “would have been an honest policeman, even a good policeman, if he didn’t have to feed five children, a wife, and a retired father who secretly stole his cigarettes.” And a young, statuesque widow is “the type of woman who takes an age to light a cigarette and looks straight into a man’s eyes as she does so.”
The Dumas Club is not a light read, thanks to its esoteric subject and the fact that it is littered with references to ancient texts on magic and demonology, some of which carry Latin titles. And the link, such as it is, between The Three Musketeers and The Nine Doors is maddeningly tenuous throughout most of the novel, for reasons that only become clear in the final pages.
In a generally positive review published when The Club Dumas first appeared in English in 1996, The New York Times noted that Pérez-Reverte launches “a considerable number of balls into the air” in the novel and retrieving them all is problematic, thanks to “the farfetched antics of the clandestine society that lies at the heart of his plot” and the “curious explanation” Adler gives Corso for her presence.
Yet I found this exotic mystery to be engaging, clever and well-paced. Pérez-Reverte is an erudite writer who focuses a spotlight on the world of rare book collecting, while also examining the art of producing forgeries, the life of Alexandre Dumas, the enduring popularity of The Three Musketeers, the bizarre workings of demonology and much bookish arcana.
It wouldn’t hurt to have English and Latin dictionaries on hand while reading The Club Dumas. Unless you’re already familiar with such terms and phrases as incunabulum and sic luceat lux.
The Nine Doors, as the tome with Devil-worshipping overtones is called, belongs to a well-to-do book lover who claims it is a forgery and hires Corso to learn the truth, which requires tracking down the two other known copies to determine which one of the three, if any, is the original.
As for The Anjou Wine, the title of the chapter by Dumas, it belongs to Corso’s friend Flavio La Ponte, who bought it from a publisher only days before the seller was found dead, seemingly a suicide.
The deeper Corso delves into the history of these works, the more dangerous his research becomes, both to himself and others. Even more intriguing, though, is that The Nine Doors, with its satanic overtones, and The Anjou Wine seem to be linked somehow, as Corso discovers when he encounters people who resemble characters from The Three Musketeers.
In the midst of all this, Corso befriends - or is befriended by - a mysterious young woman who becomes his companion, lover and protector. She obviously is far more than she appears to be on the surface - a demon, perhaps, or an angel. But initially, Corso is unable to pin down her true nature, or why she has entered his life. She uses the pseudonym Irene Adler, which, Corso realizes, is the name of a character created by Arthur Conan Doyle.
Arturo Pérez-Reverte, whose works include the swashbuckling Captain Alatriste novels set in 17th-century Spain, displays his fondness for derring-do in The Club Dumas as well, although the setting is more contemporary. (The novel was published in 1993, and seems to be set in that period.) His evocative style lends a dark, baroque edge to the proceedings, while giving readers wonderfully etched characterizations.
Corso has “an oblique, distant laugh, with a hint of insolence, the kind of laugh that lingers in the air after it stops.” His Portuguese friend, Amilcar Pinto, “would have been an honest policeman, even a good policeman, if he didn’t have to feed five children, a wife, and a retired father who secretly stole his cigarettes.” And a young, statuesque widow is “the type of woman who takes an age to light a cigarette and looks straight into a man’s eyes as she does so.”
The Dumas Club is not a light read, thanks to its esoteric subject and the fact that it is littered with references to ancient texts on magic and demonology, some of which carry Latin titles. And the link, such as it is, between The Three Musketeers and The Nine Doors is maddeningly tenuous throughout most of the novel, for reasons that only become clear in the final pages.
In a generally positive review published when The Club Dumas first appeared in English in 1996, The New York Times noted that Pérez-Reverte launches “a considerable number of balls into the air” in the novel and retrieving them all is problematic, thanks to “the farfetched antics of the clandestine society that lies at the heart of his plot” and the “curious explanation” Adler gives Corso for her presence.
Yet I found this exotic mystery to be engaging, clever and well-paced. Pérez-Reverte is an erudite writer who focuses a spotlight on the world of rare book collecting, while also examining the art of producing forgeries, the life of Alexandre Dumas, the enduring popularity of The Three Musketeers, the bizarre workings of demonology and much bookish arcana.
It wouldn’t hurt to have English and Latin dictionaries on hand while reading The Club Dumas. Unless you’re already familiar with such terms and phrases as incunabulum and sic luceat lux.
