SOURCE: “Why Adam Didn't Name Any Fish … Another Mystery for Umberto Eco,” in The Observer Review, February 7, 1999, p. 13.

In the following review, Thomson evaluates both the benefits and drawbacks of the thematic and stylistic diversity of Serendipities.

Umberto Eco, now a plump 67, is a man of towering cleverness. However, his mind works like a kitchen blender. In go a dash of Mickey Spillane, a pinch of Borges, some diced semiotics. Switch it on and hey presto!—out pours an ‘interesting’ book.

Eco's freak bestseller, The Name of the Rose, was an artful reworking of Conan Doyle, with the Baker Street sleuth transplanted to fourteenth-century Italy. Its baggage of arcane erudition was designed to flatter the average reader's intelligence. In reality, Eco's medieval whodunnit was up-market Arthur Hailey with frills on. It sold five million copies worldwide and was translated into 24 languages. Not since One Hundred Years of Solitude...