12th century Constantinople is being sacked by invading Christians during the fourth Crusade when the Byzantine historian Niketas is saved from fatal danger by Baudolino, an Italian peasant but adopted son of the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. In return, Niketas listens to Baudolino's tale--how he becomes adopted by the Emperor, his education in Paris, his obsession with the legendary Prester John, and his outrageous journey to the East in search of Prester John and the Holy Grail.
But Baudolino is the consummate liar. What is the truth? The half-truth? And the outright lies?
The problem is, as Eco illustrates quite fabulously, does anyone tell the truth? Do we tell the truth when we recount the day's events to acquaintences? Do we record the true events? (And is history accurate at all? Suppose everything we've ever learned in history is one big fat lie?) This is as true for weblogging. Sure, we may take for granted that all these personal journals and daily snippets that people place on the web are real. But maybe they're not. There's a chance that everyone I've read have hidden themselves in an illusion. Perhaps all I'm reading is just fiction. Or fact from fiction, i.e. people have told the lies so many times to themselves that they begin to think what they say is real.
Or maybe I'm the Baudolino. You'll never really know for sure, will you?
