September 18, 2014
So I checked out a translation of this book through my library's ebook site. I know it's among the longest Western novels of all time, so when I was going along at a pretty good clip after just an hour of reading at the gym, I was pleased but surprised. I happened to be looking for the name of the translator of that particular edition, when I saw that horrible word: abridged.
Oh hell no. I've written before about my distaste for abridged texts. Seeing as I was already drawn in to Edmond Dantes's plight, I knew I had to find an unabridged translation. The version I ended up reading is, I imagine, an early English translation. Why would the translator be anonymous when he, or she, made this brilliant book accessible to so many people?
Anyway, I'm glad that I invested the time, and the $1 that the ebook cost me, in reading an unabridged translation. Timeless classics like these are the reason why I love reading so much. This book was horrifying, thrilling, delightful, and touching at turns. It may be a hefty read, but Dumas doesn't bombard his readers with his morality at the expense of the story (hear that, Tolstoy? Dickens?); there's a message, of course, but the story is fully entertaining.
I might compare this book to a soap opera. Like many lengthy classic novels of the time, it was published in installments over the course of a couple of years or so. Reading a couple of hours a day to finish in less than three weeks, I can imagine the anguish of the first readers, waiting for the next chapters. The story even features elements that today's soaps have worn out: people returning from the dead, a young woman in a coma, hidden identities. Unlike these soaps, though, it's well-written with nary a plot hole in sight. Pretty impressive considering the number of central characters and the complexity of the plot.
My feelings for the central character fluctuated wildly throughout my reading. First I pitied Edmond; then I felt triumphant for him at his escape from prison and his discovery of Faria's treasure at Monte Cristo. Then, as the story switches to the perspective of other characters, I thought that his thirst for vengeance and his immense wealth had turned him into a piece of shit. He brags about having a young woman for a slave, he witnesses the execution of a man in Rome with almost grim delight, he consorts with criminals; what the fuck happened to this guy?
But there's an explanation! Haidee, technically his slave, is more of an adopted daughter. Royalty by birth, her family got fucked over by Dantes's enemy Fernand, and Dantes (or the count, or Sinbad the Sailor, or Lord Wilmore, or Abbe Busoni, or whatever fucking name he prefers) takes her in to protect her, and to allow them both to get their revenge.
Okay, so personally I don't morally condone the idea of revenge. My spiritual beliefs aren't defined by any organized religion, but I do believe that people get what they deserve. Dantes sees himself as God's catalyst for vengeance against those who wronged him. His mission would seem less than righteous if his four main targets (Caderousse, Villefort, Fernand aka Morcerf, and Danglars) had not all committed other wrongs besides all having a hand in ruining his life and condemning him to fourteen years of lonely suffering. The four that wronged him were out and out wicked, and I didn't pity them. But even Dantes acknowledges that he hurt more people than he should have in the end; it went too far.
And so, the seemingly heartless count redeems himself. He offers assistance to Morcerf's widow Mercedes, the woman he once loved himself (Fernand's jealousy led him to accuse Dantes in the first place), and her son Albert. He saves Valentine de Villefort's life after her stepmother attempts to poison her, and reunites her with her lover Maximilian Morrel, the son of one of the few people who tried to help Dantes when he was wrongfully imprisoned. And he frees Haidee, who refuses to leave out of love for him...and so they decide to wed. Dantes deserves his happy ending.
It was a shame that Edward de Villefort, an innocent though bratty child, died in the whole mess, but I admit that it would have been sadder had he been a nice child and not so monstrous. But he had bad genes and a bad upbringing, so his personality makes sense. Mercedes and Albert also did not get what they deserved. Though Mercedes did not wait for her love Edmond, she didn't really do anything wrong. I am glad that Dantes went for Haidee instead of his former, lost love, though. And Albert will be okay. Good-natured but spoiled, the army will toughen him up. He's already brave, and is now determined to make a new name for himself, after his father was publicly shamed for war crimes and had committed suicide.
The only points that sort of bug me are the coincidences that furthered the counts schemes. One is that Franz, Albert's friend and traveling companion, happened to land at Monte Cristo on a whim and met Sinbad the Sailor, before proceeding to Rome to meet Albert, and running into the count there...in this way, Dantes made the acquaintance of Mercedes's son. I mean, Dantes controlled much of the plot, but no way could he have planned that one.
Also, the fact that Caderousse happened to be a fellow prisoner of Villefort and Baroness Danglars's abandoned son. It's revealed that a disguised Dantes freed them both, for the purposes of using them in his plot. But again, he couldn't have planned on them being imprisoned together...right?
Those are the only points I contend with, because the rest of it seems plausible, that the count had complete control of it. I would not hesitate to deem this book, along with Don Quixote, an essential classic. It is timeless, and an unabridged version is certainly worth the time.
P.S. May I say that Eugenie Danglars and Louise d'Armilly are my favorite lesbian couple of classic literature? Okay, they're the only ones I can think of, but I liked how Dumas made no bones about Eugenie's sexuality. Her parents denied the truth, thinking that her "eccentricities" were due to her being an artist (a musician, specifically). I felt bad for the girls when they were outed and shamed after the situation with Benedetto's arrest, but the last we see of them, they are heading off together again. I may be naïve to hope that good things will happen for a lesbian couple in mid-19th century Europe, but still...
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