Umberto Eco's "The Name of the Rose"
Published in 1980, this novel is a global bestseller that has sold over 55 million copies.
The story is set in a medieval Italian monastery. It has a somewhat complex structure: it is presented as a manuscript obtained in 1980, in which a monk's disciple recounts how his master, who was sent to the monastery, solved a series of murders that occurred there.
The year is 1327 in Western Europe, a time when emperors and popes were rapidly changing and constantly engaged in power struggles. As the investigation continues within the labyrinthine monastery, a single book emerges as the key to unraveling all the mysteries. What exactly is that book? That is the premise of the story.
The author, Eco, was a semiotician and a scholar of medieval thought. Perhaps because of this, the content is highly pedantic. It is surprising that such a book has recorded sales of 55 million copies, but this book is a kind of puzzle-solving game. It is packed with countless mysteries, ranging from the simplest ones like "Who is the culprit and what is the trick?" to questions like "What does this mean?", "What is this a metaphor for?", or even "How many hidden mysteries are there here?". Consequently, countless guidebooks and commentaries have been published as answer keys. Because mysteries appear endlessly depending on the reader, there is no end to it. I believe that the fact that it has an aspect of being a "game you can play forever" is the reason it has gained so many readers.

And what is clever about Eco is that he operates the parts composed of detailed episodes and the novel as a whole using different principles. It is close to the "layer theory" in AI.
A grand lie, intermingled with truth and fiction, into which Eco, then 48, packed his lifelong reflections. The final difficult question posed there is, "Is the rose a substance or a name?"
It might also be interesting to think about an answer to this mystery, which quantum mechanics and cerebral physiology seem to be on the verge of unraveling.

