Saturday, August 3, 2019

The Count of Monte Cristo (1844)

I have spent a significant part of this summer reading Alexandre Dumas's The Count of Monte Cristo.

My (limited) knowledge of this book came primarily from The Shawshank Redemption, in which Andy Dufresne recommends Monte Cristo to a fellow inmate because it describes an escape from prison. As I read the book, I enjoyed the way that certain plot details reminded me of Shawshank; it became clear that Stephen King referenced Dumas's classic for more than the surface level reference and follow-up joke.

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I started the book by listening to it while gardening.

I quickly gathered that Edmond Dantès is unjustly imprisoned after having been framed by three jealous acquaintances (Danglars, Caderousse and Mondego). The context for Dantès's alleged crime is Napoleon's plot, from Elba, to regain power from the Bourbon monarchy. I enjoyed the way that Dumas weaves historical characters and events into the story's plot.

Eventually, Dantès escapes from prison and recovers a hidden treasure whose location is revealed to him by a fellow inmate (Abbe Faria). Dantès returns to society under several new identities, including most famously the fabulously wealthy Count of Monte Cristo. He tracks down the men who ruined his life and -- in a very roundabout way -- aims to ruin theirs.


Having listened to the first several chapters of the book, I made two incorrect assumptions: (1) this is primarily an adventure story and (2) the novel is of a typical length (300 - 500 pages). 

In truth -- with reference to my first assumption -- Monte Cristo became a classic because the straightforward revenge plot is overlaid with deeper questions about justice and forgiveness. To wit, Dantès struggles with whether to forgive his first love, Mercedes, who eventually gave up hope of ever seeing him again and married another man (Mondego). There are also questions about whether revenge can fairly be taken on the family members of those who have done wrong. One reviewer said that Dumas is ultimately exploring the distinction between justice meted out by man and justice that comes from God.

With respect to my second assumption, a lasting memory of this summer will be first seeing the novel on the bookshelf of the Crozet Library. It is 1,200 pages long!! I have never read a novel so long, and as much as I enjoyed Monte Cristo I don't think I could have survived its entire length. Dumas's level of detail can be windy and tedious; this is explained by Umberto Eco as stemming from his being paid by the word while the story was serialized. 

Fortunately, I found an abridged version at Barnes & Noble (approximately 600 pages). I'm not a fast reader, so even finishing the short version feels like a major accomplishment.