Alright! Today I'm giving some assorted thoughts on Alexander Dumas' 1846 novella The Count of Monte Cristo, widely regarded as one of the most widely-read books ever published and one of France's most famous works. I did not read it in the original French - this version I read was the unabridged Penguin House edition from 1995.
The Count of Monte Cristo follows the nineteen year-old Edmond Dantès, a happy and well-liked young man about to get married and gain captaincy of a profitable ship. Tragedy strikes on his wedding day as he is falsely accused of being a Bonapartist, and through a series of misfortunes he finds himself in Châteu d'If, where hs spends the next nineteen years with the Abbé Faria, who teaches him ethics, philosophy, manners, several languages, and the location of a secret treasure on the mediterranean island of Monte Cristo.
After escaping from prison and amassing his fortune, Edmond Dantès takes the mantle "The Count of Monte Cristo" and plots revenge on those who wronged him: Baron Danglars, who wanted his captaincy and wrote the letter denouncing him; Fernand Mondego, in love with Edmond's bride Mercédès and delivered the letter; and Gérard de Villefort, the deputy crown prosecutor who imprisoned Dantès despite knowing his innocence, and later forged slanderous documents to keep him in jail and further his political career.
Excellent news: The first 300 pages of The Count of Monte Cristo take off like dynamite. You viscerally sympathize with the protagonist as he is unjustly taken from the cluthces of happiness at the eleventh hour; his imprisonment and longing for Mercédès are terribly tragic; and his eventual escape and acquisition of wealth is as exhilerating as it is fantastical. The next 900 pages? Kind of a slog.
After gaining his wealth, the novel takes a hard left and spends 150 or so pages in Italy; the novel is most difficult and tedious to read here as the reader is introduced to unimportant characters, locations, and stories-within-stories that have little to do with the rest of the novel - you really have to "push through." But eventually the Count of Monte Cristo arrives in Paris and one can surely expect things to heat up, right? Well, -ish. There's a large amount of political intrigue and dinner parties and longing gazes to be read through first, and the revenge story doesn't really heat up until page 900 or so - this is when Monte Cristo confronts Fernand, Mercédès, and Albert de Morcef.
This section, which lasts about 100 pages, is fantastically written and emotionally impactful, especially when Mercédès finally confronts Monte Cristo and reminds him that she never stopped loving Edmond; this is the emotional climax of the book, which is quickly followed by the physical climax between Edmond and Fernand and then Edmond and Albert, a pay-off as magnificent as it is long awaited. The bad news is that this creates 200 pages of falling action, where the significantly less interesting payoffs for Villefort and Danglars happen, as well as Monte Cristo's realization that his revenge has gone too far and chooses to forgive those who wronged him. I find it notable that most adaptations of Monte Cristo switch the vengeances so that Fernand occurs last.
It has been reported that forgiveness is a major theme of The Count of Monte Cristo and the title character's defining arc; this is technically true. It is also true that his character arc occurs with 40 pages left to spare, which gives the novel an unfortunate revenge:forgivness ratio; he spends the rest of the novel as an otherwise despicable menace to society. Yes, his wealth is vast, his cannabis extensive, and his posse impressive, but at the same time he initiates elaborate plots such as:
- Slowly bleed Danglars dry of his money, then bankrupt his bank and ask for a loan
- Plot to kill his good friend Albert just to get back at Fernand
- Advise Fernand that he should kill himself, which he does
- Tricked Danglars into arranging a marriage between his daughter and a false nobleman who was actually an escaped criminal
- The criminal was actually the daughter's half brother through an affair between Danglar's wife and Villefort; the count was going to let this incestuous relationship
- Influenced Villefort's wife into poisoning and murdering four people, which the count stands by and watches. It's only on the sixth (a three year-old) does the Count realize his revenge has gone too far
- Even after realizing the revenge has gone too far, he has Danglars kidnapped and starved for days on end until mercifully releasing him on the fourth day
The book is also surprisingly radical! I didn't expect it from an 1840s novel, but the transvestism, lesbianism, and cannabis usage were all quite shocking. Reading up on the text, it appears that those elements were omitted in early English translations - not very surprising, but I thought it was neat that Alexander Dumas was out there being "woke" 180 years before "woke" became a thing.
Overall, I can see why there is an abridged version of The Count of Monte Cristo. You could easily cut 400-500 pages and it would be an infinitely better read, and while the descriptions of Paris aren't grating like they are in the works of Victor Hugo, the stories-within-stories, frequent detours, repetitive plot elements, and overstretched emotional core make The Count of Monte Cristo a difficult book to recommend. The historical ties to the Napoleonic wars are all very intriguing, as are the years spent in prison, but these two elements - the best elements of the book - are done and over with by page 300. The next 900 might feel like your own personal Châteu d'If.
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