Robert Langdon

Character Analysis

International Man of Mystery (And Kind of a Know-It-All)

And we mean "know-it-all" both in the sense that this guy is a total showoff, and that he actually seems to know it all. All of it.

Seriously: is there anything Robert Langdon doesn't know? This is a guy who'd be fun to sit next to at a random dinner party, because you'd mention the fact that your Uber was kinda smelly on the way there, and he'd launch into a lecture about the etymological origins of the word über and it's implications in pre-WWII Germany.

Okay, so most of the time that would be fun.

He's definitely a helpful dude to have around when you're on a quest to find the Holy Grail and the need for understanding religious iconography and symbolism are pretty crucial. So, it seems pretty convenient that this unassuming university professor of an obscure science seems to keep stumbling onto these international plots and intrigues. (Apparently, in Dan Brown's previous book Angels & Demons Langdon single-handedly helped to take down a plot to plant a corrupt Pope into an unsuspecting Vatican. You know, the usual stuff you tend to get involved in while on vacation.)

This quality of Langdon's—the tendency to be the right guy in the right place at the wrong time—is a pretty distinguishing characteristic of his, as is his propensity to know everything about everything. According to the eager introduction he receives before his lecture to the American University of Paris, he

"[…] is the author of numerous books: The Symbology of Secret Sects, The Art of the Illuminati, The Lost Language of Ideograms, and when I say he wrote the book on Religious Iconology, I mean that quite literally." (1.22)

Pretty prolific, eh?

So, not unlike Liam Neeson in Taken, Langdon has a particular set of skills, which definitely serve him well in the bizarre situations he finds himself in. Besides making him an intriguing dinner guest, he's a wealth of information on various topics, which he prides himself on sharing with those around him at every opportunity.

Ev.er.y. opportunity.

For example, even as Fache is showing him Saunière's bizarre death scene, Langdon feels it necessary to educate the police chief on the original symbolic meaning of the pentacle:

"The pentacle," Langdon clarified, "is a pre-Christian symbol that relates to Nature worship. The ancients envisioned their world in two halves – masculine and feminine. Their gods and goddesses worked to keep a balance of power. Yin and yang. When male and female were balanced, there was harmony in the world. When they were unbalanced, there was chaos." Langdon motioned to Saunière's stomach. "This pentacle is representative of the female half of all things – a concept religious historians call the 'sacred feminine' or the 'divine goddess.' Saunière, of all people, would know this." (6.41)

That's our Langdon: a dude who, when confronted with a gutshot corpse, launches into lecture mode.

Don't get us wrong, though—these mini-lectures serve an important purpose. He's not going off on scholarly tangents just to hear himself talk, he's often correcting misconceptions or trying to help someone else understand the situation more fully.

It's also a great way to move the narrative forward without boring the reader to tears. Instead of being treated to a history lesson from a passive narrator, we're getting the interesting tidbits in the form of dialogue. Clever boy, that Dan Brown.

Daydreamer

Langdon's tendency to know everything also creates a vivid inner monologue, which seems to pull his attention away from the actions going on around him to a surprising degree…considering that he's wanted for freaking murder.

There are several times throughout the book where something will remind him of a lecture he'd given, and he'll fondly reminisce about his clever discourse. (Whatever you need to do in a crisis, right?)

One glaring example of this is while he and Sophie are at the Louvre (with police in hot pursuit, naturally). Sophie's just revealed that the message Saunière scrawled next to his own body as he lay dying was a message for her, because it was presented in the form of her favorite Da Vinci sketch. This is major news for these two wanted "criminals"—and yet, Langdon finds himself drifting off into a reverie about the time he had lectured about the number PHI:

Incredibly, all of these things were connected by a single concept so fundamental to art history that Langdon often spent several class periods on the topic.

PHI.

He felt himself suddenly reeling back to Harvard, standing in front of his "Symbolism in Art" class, writing his favorite number on the chalkboard.

1.618

Langdon turned to face his sea of eager students […]

"Come on," Sophie whispered. "What's wrong? We're almost there. Hurry!"

Langdon glanced up, feeling himself return from faraway thoughts. He realized he was standing at a dead stop on the stairs, paralyzed by sudden revelation. (20.28-32, 81-82)

And this is only one of the only times Langdon gets called out for his daydreaming tendencies. Most of the other times Sophie is also lost in her own little reverie—these two are a match made in heaven.

Luckily for our intrepid pair, these flashbacks of genius typically result in a "Eureka!" moment that helps to reveal the answer to that particular clue they've been trying to solve. This is, once again, a very clever plot device used by Brown, which allows him to reveal important background information without having to use implausible dialogue.

Innocent, But Still Guilty

Especially towards the end of the book, Robert Langdon feels responsible for everything they've gotten themselves into, and feels a need to make it all right again.

Gazing back at the orb-filled tomb, Langdon wished he had some idea about the cryptex password … something with which to negotiate. I got Leigh involved in this, and I'll do whatever it takes if there is a chance to help him. (98.35)

Then, when moments later he realizes that Teabing's the Big Bad, that guilt is just moved over to Sophie:

Despite the torrent of questions running through his mind, he knew only one thing mattered now – getting Sophie out of here alive. All the guilt Langdon had mistakenly felt earlier for involving Teabing had now been transferred to Sophie.

I took her to Château Villette. I am responsible. (99.33-34)

We think he's forgetting that Sophie's the one who decided to throw the transmitter-soap out the window, leading to their fugitive status in the first place. Regardless of fault, however, this just shows that Langdon's a good dude.

No matter what's going on, he tries to do what's right, rather than what would be easy. Perhaps it smacks a bit of machismo, but deep down he's just an ethical guy. A slightly pompous, bonafide genius, totally scatterbrained-in-moments-of-utmost importance, ethical guy.