The Oak Openings by James Fenimore Cooper (novel #132)

In dat day, my heart was stone. Afraid of Great Spirit, but didn’t love him. ~ Chief Onoah

I read this for the Back to the Classics Challenge 2019: a classic from a place where I have lived

This novel is set along the banks of the Kalamazoo River, where I spent the first 24 years of my life. I lived in the city of Kalamazoo – which took its name from the river. The name is of Native American origin, Potawatomie to be precise, but the literal meaning is lost. I also lived in Cooper Township, part of Kalamazoo, which is named for James Fenimore Cooper, who never lived there, but who invested in the area. It may have been Cooper’s objective for writing this novel – to create interest for his investment which did not pay off in his lifetime. Oak openings, were unusual geographical features, natural to parts of Michigan and Ohio, that were much like prairies, but with widely spaced oaks (i.e., there are openings between the oaks) vs the dense woodlands early pioneers were more accustomed to.

I think the alternate title; The Bee Hunter is better. The main character is Ben Boden, Ben Buzz to the natives, le Bourdon (the drone) to the French, a professional honey hunter who lived along the banks of the Kalamazoo. The novel opens at the outset of the War of 1812. Boden, his newly formed love interest Margery, her brother and sister-in-law, a Methodist missionary, and a lone soldier are all caught in a precarious position. The only significant settlements, forts at Detroit, Chicago, and Michilimackinac are all taken by the British. The predominant tribe, the Potawatomies, align with the British, leaving the six Americans nearly friendless and surrounded. They have two allies: Pigeonswing, a Chippewa brave who Boden once rescued from certain death, and Onoah, a mysterious Chief of no known tribe, who describes himself..

Onoah go just where he please. Sometime to Pottawattamie, sometime to Iroquois. All Ojebways [Chippewas] know Onoah. All Six Nations know him well. All Injin know him. Even Cherokee know him now, and open ears when he speak.

But Onoah is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

It’s a captivating and exciting adventure. I loved it partially for the attention given to my native land, and even though I never knew the Kalamazoo in its unspoiled state, I could picture it as Cooper described without the cities, towns, and industry that now line its banks. Very nostalgic for me. But the appeal goes well beyond my own personal identification with the topography. I enjoyed it very much regardless of the physical setting. 

My rating: 4 1/2 of 5 stars

This is the last of Cooper’s wilderness tales, following the better-known Leatherstocking Tales. I’ve read a couple of those [The Deer Slayer, The Last of the Mohicans], and I didn’t love them. The hero Natty Bumppo, who is better known by epithets the natives gave him, Hawkeye or Deerslayer, seemed too good to be true.

The bee hunter, not so much. He is still the hero, admirable and brave, but he is flawed – downright foolhardy on a few occasions – and much more believable. In fact, that is part of what I loved: all of the characters are complex, conflicted, and believable.

The Native Americans – apart from using terms not politically correct today (redskin, savage, and Injin) Cooper did not paint with too broad a brush. His Native American characters could be savage or sagacious, wise or foolish, deliberate or impetuous, honorable or duplicitous, determined or conflicted, almost always strong and brave. I’m sure some will disagree, but I feel Cooper admired Native Americans and treated them with respect.

The Soldier – brave, faithful, somewhat arrogant and ethnocentric, but no fool.

The Women – sympathetic, brave and sturdy, occasionally naïve, but also no fools.

The Villain – Onoah, also known to some as Scalping Peter plots for the death of all white men, to include women and children, yet somehow, he is not depicted as a blood-thirsty savage. His hatred is nearly defended by Cooper as a natural outcome of the injustice done his people and the unending encroachment of their birthright hunting grounds. He is wise and thoughtful.

The Missionary, Parson Amen – and the most exciting part of this story. The missionary, is sincere and virtuous, a bit tender, a little foolish, but no hypocrite.

SPOILER ALERT

I usually try to avoid spoilers, but the ending was so glorious, I feel compelled to go into it just a bit. Scalping Peter plots the extermination of all white men, women and children. But slowly, through the kindness of Margery, and the honor of Boden he is softened and intends to dissuade the natives from killing these two. When he fails to convince them, he shrugs and accepts their fate. But then he witnesses the execution of the missionary, who prays for those about to kill him. Peter has heard of this doctrine of Christianity – to pray for one’s enemies – but he disbelieves it is ever done or can be done, until the missionary, in fearless Christ-like fashion, prays for his murderers.

The missionary uncovered his head, knelt, and again lifted up his voice in prayer. At first the tones were a little tremulous; but they grew firmer as he proceeded. Soon they became as serene as usual. 

Peter cannot spare him, but he is himself profoundly changed.

…for the first time in his life, was now struck with the moral beauty of such a sentiment. 

Never before was the soul of this extraordinary savage so shaken.

And there is still a daring and dangerous escape via the Kalamazoo River.

I’ve only read the three works by Cooper. This is easily my favorite.

Other excerpts:

But Buzzing Ben loved the solitude of his situation, its hazards, its quietude, relieved by passing moments of high excitement; and most of all, the self-reliance that was indispensable equally to his success and his happiness. Woman, as yet, had never exercised her witchery over him…

In this particular Parson Amen was a model of submission, firmly believing that all that happened was in furtherance of the great scheme of man’s regeneration and eventual salvation.

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The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain (novel #130)

Who knows, he may grow up to be President someday, unless they hang him first! ~ Aunt Polly regarding Tom

I read this as part of the Back to the Classics Challenge 2019: A Classic from the Americas. 

Well, you don’t get much more classic, nor more American than Tom Sawyer.

As I did in my review of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, I will refer to the novels as Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, and the characters themselves as Tom and Huck.

Tom Sawyer comes before (not properly called a prequel) Huckleberry Finn. I think Huckleberry Finn is considered Twain’s greater work, but not for me. I enjoy both, but if forced to choose, I like Tom Sawyer better.

It’s more fun. Huckleberry Finn is fun – but it’s also important. Tom Sawyer is just fun. And once in a while, “just fun” is better than fun and important.

If that doesn’t make sense – I sort of feel sorry for you.

Another reason I like it so much: I identify with Tom much more than Huck. I lived a pretty carefree, barefoot in summer, fishing, swimming, and playing cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, or soldier, much like Tom. Like Tom, and unlike Huck, I was also loved and nurtured.

Tom is a wild, mischievous, but good at heart boy growing up along the banks of the Mississippi River in the 1840s. I don’t believe Twain ever gives his age, or grade. My guess is about 12.

And, did I mention this? It’s just loads of fun. Tom has adventures with his friends Joe Harper and Huck Finn, he falls in love with Becky Thatcher, blows it by being a jerk, then redeems himself by taking blame, and a whipping, for Becky. He runs away and becomes a pirate, witnesses a murder, saves a convicted criminal, finds stolen treasure, and attends his own funeral.

What fun.

I know; there are some who think this book is inappropriate today. I understand and I disagree.

This at least the third time I’ve read Tom Sawyer. It doesn’t get old. Well, I mean it is old, but I don’t get tired of it.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

 

Excerpt:

“What's your name?"

"Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer."

"That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?"

"Yes” 

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An Antarctic Mystery (The Sphinx of the Ice Fields) by Jules Verne (novel #118)

Pym, poor Pym! he must not be foresaken ~ Dirk Peters

An Antarctic Mystery is Jules Verne’s sequel to Edgar Allan Poe’s novel The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket. Although it is not unheard of for one author to sequel another, it is rare that both are such renowned authors, each in their own right. What’s more, I think such sequels are often disappointing, but in this instance, I think it was rather brilliant.

I was excited to learn of Verne’s sequel (thanks Mudpuddle), because although I found Poe’s novel riveting – it ended quite abruptly, and left me wanting more.

Jules Verne obligingly provided more.

The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym is a bit of complicated metafiction. In the beginning, Poe has the fictional Pym relate his tale to Poe, asserting that no one would believe the tale if recounted as a true narrative, so he employs Poe to record it as a “pretended fiction”.

In other words, it’s a fiction, pretending to be fact, pretending to be fiction. I said it was complicated.

And then Verne picks it up and complicates it more. An Antarctic Adventure begins in the Kerguelen Islands, 11 years later with Mr. Jeorling, who does not appear in Pym’s narrative, but who is familiar with Poe’s novel. Jeorling encounters a ship’s captain, Mr. Len Guy, who believes the entire account to be true.

I thought I must be dreaming when I heard Captain Len Guy’s words. Edgar Poe’s romance was nothing but a fiction, a work of imagination by the most brilliant of our American writers. And here was a sane man treating that fiction as reality.

Jeorling concludes Captain Guy is not entirely sane, though an able seaman. Jeorling recalls another Captain Guy – Captain William Guy of the doomed ship Jane, from Pym’s narrative. 

Of course, events prove Captain Len Guy correct and it is evident he is obsessed with discovering the fate of his brother Captain William Guy who was lost with the Jane and her crew.

The original title: Le Sphinx des glaces should be rendered The Sphinx of the Ice Fields in English, but for some reason English versions of the novel are not given this title, but rather An Antarctic Mystery. This was my first time reading Jules Verne. I will definitely read more. I thought this tale quite clever in its treatment of the backstory, an exciting story on its own, and a perfect complement to Poe’s tale creating one complete, fantastic tale.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

An Antarctic Mystery was published in 1897, nearly 60 years after The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, and nearly 50 years after Poe’s death. So of course, we cannot know what Poe would have thought of it, but I thought it a magnificent tribute by one of the greatest authors of the fantastic to another.

Excerpts:

Life on board was very regular, very simple, and its monotony was not without a certain charm. Sailing is repose in movement, a rocking in a dream, and I did not dislike my isolation. ~ Jeorling

Pym, poor Pym! he must not be forsaken. ~ Dirk Peters

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The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket by Edgar Allan Poe (novel #117)

…the probability being that the public at large would regard what I should put forth as merely an impudent and ingenious fiction. ~ Arthur Gordon Pym in the preface to his narrative

This is a very difficult work to categorize – for numerous reasons.

I usually think of Poe as a writer of short stories; this is his only complete novel. I also think of him as a writer of supernatural, macabre, or mystery, but this is a simple seafaring adventure. Yet the line from the preface that I quoted above had me hoping for some fantastical element – but no, a very exciting but entirely plausible adventure.

Well…until the very end.

It is the tale of Arthur Gordon Pym and his great adventure of going to sea. He is at first stow away and nearly perishes. Later, and to avoid his own certain murder he and two others must overthrow mutineers. Still later he is ship wrecked and turns to cannibalism to survive, and still later rescued by another ship, and becoming part of her crew he enters the most astonishing part of the story, an exploration of Antarctica.

Quite riveting, but completely believable. But then, Poe very slowly strays into descriptions inconsistent with Antarctica. I thought perhaps this was just result of ignorance both on his part, and 19^thCentury sources. I’ve never heard of a race of dark-skinned peoples near the South Pole, nor the flora and fauna he describes, and most certainly not the temperate and warming climate as necessity drives the main character farther south.

Again, I thought this was just poor research or information until…

The very end, Arthur and two others in a canoe are swept along farther south on a warm ocean current when they most suddenly encounter…

Something? Someone? Decidedly NOT plausible, NOT natural.

I realized then, this WAS a tale of the supernatural, and Poe quite cleverly slipped into it very subtly, to make the force of the revelation all the more powerful.

But then, it ends quite abruptly.

There is a bit of metafiction, a fictional note by the fictional publishers of Pym’s narrative, that the final chapters have been lost, but that every effort was being made to locate them.

And the reader is left to wonder. And I am still wondering. I wonder if I liked it – or maybe I hated it. I wonder what happened after the abrupt astonishing ending. I wonder what happened to Tiger (inside comment – if you’ve read it, you get it). I wonder was this brilliant, or was it a poor attempt to write something that paid (Poe was not commercially successful at this point as a short story writer or poet). I wonder if it was somewhat autobiographical (pretty sure it was). I wonder if the name Arthur Gordon Pym was intended to have a sound and meter similar to Edgar Allan Poe.

Well, anything that makes me wonder (think) that much is worthy of

4 of 5 stars

 

This novel was what came up for me in The Classics Club Spin #19. 

I wonder, have you read The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket? I wonder what you thought of it? 

Coming soon...a sequel to The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket by Jules Verne

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Deliverance by James Dickey (96 down, 4 to go)

There was a kind of comfort in knowing that we were where no one – no matter what issues were involved in other places – could find us… ~ Ed Gentry

 

You might call Deliverance a tale of man vs nature, or perhaps man vs man, but truthfully, I think it is man vs himself – the limitations of his own body and mind.

 

It begins innocently enough, with four men, Lewis, Ed, Drew, and Bobby who set out for a weekend canoe trip down an extremely remote section of the Cahulawassee river in northern Georgia.  They are respectable family men – city men – and looking to get a glimpse of near wilderness before the entire river valley is flooded with the construction of a dam. Only one of the four, Lewis, is fit for this type of trip.

Ed knows Lewis better than the other two. He likes and admires Lewis, but he thinks him a bit fanatic. Lewis is a survivalist, not the bomb-shelter type, but a man who trains his body and mind to overcome. During the drive to the launch site, Ed explains his own more comfortable philosophy:

 

I am mainly interested in sliding. Do you know what sliding is?

No. You want me to guess?

I’ll tell you. Sliding is living antifriction. Or, no, sliding is living by antifriction. It is finding a modest thing you can do, and then greasing that thing. On both sides. It is grooving with comfort.

 

Ed, Drew and Bobby, are trusting Lewis to get them through any difficult challenges. But they don't anticipate the life and death struggle against the forces of nature and other forces more sentient and malignant they will face.

 

Dickey seems to believe that modern men have sublimated their primal instincts and have become what Lewis describes as “lesser men”. Dickey, via Lewis, seems to believe that most men will be unfit to survive if tested.

 

Oh and by the way, Lewis is badly injured and incapacitated. It is up to the others to find their primal strength – or perish.

 

It is riveting. Ed, the first-person narrator, describes the wilderness so beautifully, that in spite of the danger, I wished I was there. He describes the charm and mystique of the locals with delicacy, and the urgency of survival crisis with terrifying effect. It is troubling, but also hopeful in a most unusual way. Deliverance is the call of the wild for humanity.

 

My rating 4 ½ stars

 

 

My edition of deliverance, is one of my most prized books: a Franklin Library, leather bound, autographed Edition (not signature facsimile…genuine autograph).

 

 

Another excerpt:

 

What I thought about mainly was that I was in a place where none – or almost none – of my daily ways of living my life would work; there was no habit I could call on. Is this freedom? I wondered. ~ Ed

 

Film rendition: there is a very good 1972 film, starring John Voight (Ed), Burt Reynolds (Lewis), Ronny Cox (Drew), Ned Beatty (Bobby)…and a small role by Dickey as the local sheriff. It is very true to the book, perfectly cast and portrayed. It was nominated for numerous academy and golden globe awards, though it didn’t win any. Marvelous little clip from the film HERE

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The Charterhouse of Parma by Stendhal (92 down, 8 to go)

(translation by Richard Howard) 

…it seems that nature has not granted me a heart with which to love and be melancholy; I cannot raise myself higher than vulgar pleasures, and so on. ~ Fabrizio del Dongo

The Charterhouse of Parma is a tale of romance, confounded by political intrigue, treachery, and adventure, wherein Stendhal pries into the psyche and soul of the young hero.

The hero, Fabrizio del Dongo, an Italian nobleman who, upon coming of age, runs off to join the cause of Liberté as he almost manages to enter Napoleon’s army. It’s all over before Fabrizio can truly enter the fray, but this adventure begins a lifelong sequence of right-place, wrong-time scenarios, and vice versa.

Fabrizio is intelligent though initially uneducated, honest, charming, and good looking, but in spite of this, I didn’t quite find him worthy of my sympathy, and this is the one weakness in the story for me. Fabrizio is also fickle, occasionally ungrateful, and impetuous bordering on reckless – no, he is outright reckless at times with his own life and with others’.

Nonetheless, it is an exciting tale reminiscent of The Count of Monte Cristo. The prose is affective and accessible, partial credit to the translator. Stendhal was an early practitioner of realism, when most of his contemporaries wrote in the Romantic style. I haven’t seen it labeled thus, but I would also call it a coming of age tale. There are also elements of Fabrizio that seem to be modeled after Stendhal himself, who like Fabrizio served in Napoleon’s army.

My rating: 3 ½ of 5 stars

This rating, just above the median on my scale, means I liked it, but didn’t love it. I intend to read more by this author, probably The Red and the Black. Have you read Stendhal or The Charterhouse of Parma? What did you think?

Excerpts

 

We must confess that, following the example of many serious authors, we have begun our hero’s story a year before his birth. ~ Narrative reference to Tristram Shandy

As after a great storm the air is purer, so Fabrizio’s soul was tranquil, happy and, so to speak, refreshed.

“I was in love with love”, he wrote to the Duchess; “I did everything possible to gain knowledge of it, but it seems that nature has not granted me a heart with which to love and be melancholy; I cannot raise myself higher than vulgar pleasures, and so on.” ~ Fabrizio del Dongo

A lover thinks more often how to reach his mistress than a husband how to protect his wife; a prisoner thinks more often how to escape than a jailer how to lock his cell; thus, whatever the obstacles, lover and prisoner will triumph. 

 

I am inclined to think that the immoral delight Italians experience in taking revenge is a consequence of their power of imagination; people of other countries do not, strictly speaking, forgive; they forget.

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The Man Who was Thursday: A Nightmare by G.K. Chesterton (novel #104)

"…and no man should leave in the universe anything of which he is afraid." ~ Gabriel Syme

"The philosopher may sometimes love the infinite; the poet always loves the finite." ~ narrative

(update: July 13, 2018)

I reread this for the Back to the Classics Challenge 2018 Classic Crime story, and also because I promised myself to reread it – because in spite of liking it the first time, there was much I did not understand. I felt very much like the character from This Side of Paradise who is said to have liked it..."without understanding it."

I've gained a little understanding - I think - with this reread.

I believe it is very likely Chesterton’s allegory on the free will of humanity – and the cataclysmic resulting existence of evil. I think also, it may be a commentary on the Biblical book of Job – a book Chesterton was particularly fascinated by.

The greatest question of course, is who is Sunday? At first, the apparent villain. Later? Satan? – probably not, Christ? – possibly, but I think not, God himself? – again I think not, not entirely that is. I tend to believe Sunday is the natural world (the natural universe) – all creation. As such, he is an aspect of God the Creator revealed in Creation. But this is only the backside of the full Glory of God. As Moses was allowed to see only the backside of God, so do we all, along with Chesterton’s Six day-of-the-week inspired detectives, see the backside of God in creation.

I will have to read it yet again.

I still give it 4 stars

 

(the following is from my December 2016 review)

This is the first time I’ve read anything by G.K. Chesterton. The Man Who was Thursday is a detective novel, a metaphysical thriller, an adventure, and a fantasy. It is the third-person narrative regarding undercover police officer Gabriel Syme as he combats murderous anarchists in early 20th Century London.

Or, as the forward put it, it is

A wild, mad, hilarious, and profoundly moving tale.

This book satisfies #8, a classic detective novel, of The Back to the Classics Challenge 2016. It is not part of the 100 Greatest Novels Quest.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

 

G.K. Chesterton is perhaps best known for his Father Brown detective novels. I cannot compare this detective story with the Father Brown series, but The Man Who was Thursday is certainly not a typical detective story.

For three-quarters of the book or more, I thought it was a farce, absurd but fun. The characters were likeable, but unbelievable and the plot was ridiculous.

Gabriel Syme is a poet policeman, who accidentally infiltrates a secret society of anarchists – dangerous felons to a man. By odd fate, Syme is elected to the high council of the anarchists, a group of seven, each codenamed for a day of the week. The enormous and imposing president is Sunday. Syme, as you can guess, becomes Thursday. The narrative reveals that Syme became a police detective accidentally as well, but now that fate has thrown him into the den of dynamiters, he intends to operate under cover, ultimately to bring the group to justice.

I’ll spare the spoilers, and just say it was all quite amusing, but a bit silly – until the end.

And then – the books turns and the reader – is being carried into much deeper waters than he had planned on… I was not expecting this, but I’ve learned it is not uncommon for Chesterton.

This was very deep, very philosophical, and very thought provoking. I will have to reread this, and think about it – perhaps the rest of my life. Yes really; it is that profound.

I am persuaded I must read more G.K. Chesteron.

Excerpts:

There is a great deal to be said for death; but if anyone has any preference for the other alternative, I strongly advise him to walk after me. ~ Gabriel Syme

You great fat, blasted, blear-eyed, blundering, thundering, brainless, Godforsaken, doddering, damned fool! He said without taking a breath. You great silly, pink-faced, towheaded turnip! You –  ~ said by a foe, to Gabriel Syme

The poor have sometimes objected to being governed badly; the rich have always objected to being governed at all. ~ minor character

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The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (70 down, 30 to go)

(translation by Robin Buss)

…for the wicked are not so easily disposed of, for God seems to have them under his special watch-care to make of them instruments of his vengeance.  ~ The Count of Monte Cristo

This is the second time I’ve read The Count of Monte Cristo, and the only work I’ve read by Alexandre Dumas. It is a realist novel, third-person narrative, a story of betrayal and revenge, taking place in France, 1815-1839.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

 

This novel satisfies category five of the Back to the Classics Challenge 2016: Classic by a non-white author.

It was not intentional – I did not plan it this way – but historically the setting of The Count of Monte Cristo immediately follows the setting of my previous read, War and Peace. The plots are both influenced by Napoleon Bonaparte, though the setting switches from Russia to France. One major difference. War and Peace is historical fiction, while The Count of Monte Cristo is not, though it does contain some historical markers.

I first read The Count of Monte Cristo in high school, nearly 30 years ago – and I loved it. I thought it was brilliant. Of course, I hadn’t read much classic literature yet. I wondered what my impression would be with this reread.

I still loved it.

Though I did indeed have some very different feelings. I was a bit less enamored with the heroism of the title character, but a bit more intrigued by his complexity. In short, it is a thoroughly enjoyable read and a marvelous escape (pardon the pun).

Betrayal and Revenge: The betrayed is Edmond Dantès; the avenger is The Count of Monte Cristo - who are one and the same.

The setup, hooks you right away. The reader is introduced to Edmond Dantès. He has a promising career, just promoted to captain of a merchant vessel, with a kind and fair employer. Edmond is a devoted son, the pride and joy of his aged father, and engaged to the beautiful Mercedes. Everything is going Edmond’s way.

But unknown to Edmond, he has a few enemies: a rival for Mercedes affection and a shipmate jealous of Edmond’s promotion. Together they plot Edmond’s downfall, along with a faithless friend of Edmond’s who is too drunk and too cowardly to stop the scheme. Edmond is anonymously accused of being a Bonapartist and is arrested on the day of his wedding. His demise is completed by the King’s attorney who condemns Edmond without trial in order to conceal his own complicity in the Bonapartist movement. Edmond is sent to the dread prison, Chateau d’If.

Edmond loses nearly everything: his freedom, his career, his father, and his beloved Mercedes. He spends fourteen years in the prison, during which time his father dies and Mercedes marries his rival, though only after she believes Edmond dead, and completely ignorant of her husband’s role in Edmond’s demise.

But Edmond gains something in prison too. He befriends an aged Abbe, who gives him a classical education and also imparts to Edmond the location of a vast, buried treasure. A treasure the Abbe has full legal rights to. He offers to share it with Edmond if they ever escape. The Abbe dies in prison, but his death offers Edmond a chance for a daring escape.

Once free, and after careful steps to acquire the treasure, Edmond, appears incognito as the Count of Monte Cristo. He enters Parisian society and the lives of his old enemies. They of course have long forgotten Edmond, also believing him dead, and are captivated by the mysterious and generous Count, all part of Edmond’s brilliant plan. Only Mercedes, at least to the reader, appears to suspect the Count’s true identity. The Count weaves an elaborate plan to ensnare his enemies and exact his revenge – but of course, things – don’t always go exactly as planned, even for the singular Count.

Still there is a satisfying dose of poetic justice. Once this begins, the justice or the vengeance – the reader will have to decide which he believes it to be, the book is hard to put down.

And then, soul searching, regret, atonement, forgiveness, and above all – Hope!

I loved this tale as a teen, I think, because it was a daring adventure. The Count was magnificent and brilliantly cruel to those who were worthy of cruelty. I relished the Count’s justice, and regretted his clemency. He was a daring cavalier – fearing and respecting no one.

But with this reread, I loved it – for almost exactly the opposite reasons. At times, I shuddered at the Count's fierceness, and I was relieved by his mercy. I still liked the Count, still cheered for him, was satisfied when justice was served, but I recognized his arrogance more so than when I was a teen. The Count took too much upon himself. He imagined, or perhaps deluded himself, that he was the instrument of God’s justice. Most of the time I was unconvinced he was seeking impartial justice, but rather personal vengeance. At the height of his arrogance he says:

God needed me, and I lived.

I still thought the plot was genius.

SPOILER ALERT: The first read, I was disappointed that Edmond never won back Mercedes, disappointed they did not end up happily ever after. This time I still felt some regret for that, but felt the imperfect ending was more powerful as a poignant reminder that some evils cannot be put altogether right in this lifetime.

But now abideth faith, hope, and love. 

Dumas would have us believe the greatest of these is hope!

Revenge: I suppose revenge is a fairly common topic in fiction, but I’ve only read two where it is the predominant theme: Wuthering Heights, which I disliked, and The Count of Monte Cristo, which I loved. I felt that Wuthering Heights very nearly celebrated revenge as a perverse token of love, whereas The Count of Monte Cristo was an indictment on the ignobility of revenge.

Excerpts:

…happiness is like the enchanted palaces we read of in our childhood, where fierce, fiery dragons defend the entrance and approach; and monsters of all shapes and kinds, requiring to be overcome ere victory is ours. ~ Edmond Dantès

Forgive, Edmond, forgive for my sake, who love you still! ~ Mercedes

Monte Cristo became pale at this horrible sight; he felt that he had passed beyond the bounds of vengeance, and that he could no longer say, “God is for and with me.”

He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. ~ The Count of Monte Cristo

Film Renditions. I hope to watch the 1975 Richard Chamberlain version soon, and I’ll update this section when I do. A comment about the 2002 version however: Don’t bother. It completely misses the point.

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