It took me a good while, but I finally wrapped up reading Hannibal for the third time through. You know, that’s probably one of the best litmus tests to know if a book’s really good. Because we see plenty of books with rave reviews, and we might enjoy them at the time, but how many times did we feel compelled to go and revisit them? I’m guessing, not much.
So, here’s a thought. When someone starts gushing about a novel, let’s say a particular classic, ask them how many times they’ve read it. ‘Cause we all know what happens: too many people read these tomes for bragging rights.
Alright, circling back to Hannibal. If you want to give it a shot, I’d recommend to first start with The Silence Of The Lambs, before moving onto its sequel. Why is that? Well, you’ll learn a lot by looking at the difference between these two reads. “Silence…” is a masterfully crafted thriller, ticking off all the boxes just right. Thomas Harris, the author, does a solid job of getting us invested in Clarice Starling’s character before pushing her into a mission with a tight deadline: find the serial killer before he snuffs out the senator’s daughter. The story is lean and mean. And let’s not forget, you can practically see the film version as you read along – that’s how cinematic it is, even on paper.
Let’s talk about Hannibal now, which takes a whole different route. It doesn’t use the deadline-trick, like “Silence…” does. There isn’t that constant ticking clock breathing down our neck. And honestly, that’s a relief. Harris takes his time here, fleshing out the characters and weaving in more of a message compared to the previous book. Themes like greed, betrayal, and ambition step into the limelight, reflected in the actions of characters like Pazzi and Starling, and the consequences they face throughout.
If you’ve seen the film adaptation, you’ll know it closely mirrors the book… except for the ending. In the film, Starling cuffs Lecter, only for him to amputate his own hand. In the end, Starling remains much the same person as she started. The book takes it in a different direction: she takes off with Lecter.
Many dislike the book’s conclusion, I know. Let me make a case for it.
Remember, by this time, Starling is no longer the new kid on the block. She’s in her mid-thirties, and she has nothing left but her job – no family, barely any friends. She has sacrificed everything. And has it paid off? Not really. Her career’s been stagnating for some time, despite her best efforts. To make matters worse, after her botched attempt to capture the female drug lord, her higher-ups decide to throw her to the wolves.
And while the renewed hunt for Lecter briefly offers her a glimmer of hope, towards the end she’s placed on administrative leave, forced to surrender her badge and weapon – quite a blow to someone as work-driven as Starling. The reality is, she should leave behind her old life. It’s precisely what the story has been leading towards. Unfortunately, it’s something which the filmmakers choose to neglect.
Now, in the book she goes on the run with Lecter. That’s a bold choice, but it can work. I hope you see how it gets her out of the rut she was in. So, why does it feel so jarring to many readers? I believe it’s because the author has failed in two respects. One: he didn’t lay sufficient groundwork for the relationship between Starling and Lecter in the preceeding pages. Starling never quite reciprocates Lecter’s advances. It’s difficult to pull off, and you’d need to do it gradually, but it can work. Two: the writing towards the end becomes quite… trippy. It employs quite a gimmicky way of changing Starling’s mind, which doesn’t quite work for me. So let’s not do that again, okay?
Having said all of that, this is Harris writing what he truly wanted to. His musings about Italian history are an absolute delight to read—and truth be told, there wasn’t enough space for that sort of thing in The Silence of the Lambs. He brings a level of love and depth to culture that’s hard to find elsewhere. That’s what makes him unique. While a good number of folks could have churned out something like The Silence of the Lambs, only Harris could have produced a work like Hannibal.
So, here’s the punchline. There’s always someone out there who’s an ace in a specific skill or field. Stronger, sharper, superior – you name it. And even if you’re king now, remember, nothing lasts forever. It’s a dicey move to stack all your chips and self-worth on the gamble of “becoming the best” in some domain. Instead, it’s smarter to win by being your authentic self, instead of trying to be five percent better. Flaunt your individuality, leverage your unique strengths, and combine them in ingenious ways.
And this isn’t just about writers. The same rule applies in other arenas. Think Louis De Funès, Bruce Lee, Steve Jobs, Freddie Mercury, etc. Nobody does Bruce Lee better than Bruce Lee. And even if someone can mimic Freddie Mercury’s vocals, they still can’t hit the same level of creativity. The same holds true for you too. Nobody comes armed with your exact blend of strengths, laced with your personality. It’s time to flaunt it, time to unveil it to the world! As always, food for thought.
Kind regards
Vincent J. Dancet