Umberto Eco - Foucault's Pendulum

Funny. I felt that I understood this book a lot less after this, my second reading, than immediately after the first (two or three years ago, I think). It's also not as good as I remembered it to be, although possibly I'd just built it up to an unreal level in my mind between these two readings; I still enjoyed it, but felt no sense of intoxication or joy in the reading. If circumstances were rather more conducive, I'd think about doing a bit of analysis of, or at least a bit of gesturing in relation to, this novel which, after all, I've in the past considered to be one of my favourites; as it is, though, I'll content myself with the thought that this changed response to Foucault's Pendulum can most likely be, in some measure, mapped on to changes in my own mental landscape in the intervening period.