The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas | 1844–1846 | Penguin Classics | Paperback $16.00

Thrown in prison for a crime he has not committed, Edmond Dantès is confined to the grim Chateau d’If. There he learns of a great hoard of treasure hidden on the Isle of Monte Cristo and he becomes determined not only to escape, but also to unearth the treasure and use it to plot the destruction of the three men responsible for his incarceration. Dumas’ epic tale of suffering and retribution, inspired by a real-life case of wrongful imprisonment, was a huge popular success when it was first serialized in the 1840s.

I have to confess, I was terribly nervous about this one. I kept putting it off, even though several people told me it was worth reading, because let’s face it … 1,270 pages of translated French from the 19th century is intimidating.

I was pleasantly surprised. This book is not at all a chore to get through, nor is it a challenge to read (which I have come to expect and worry about with these older classics). This can no doubt be attributed partially to the skills of this edition’s translator, Robin Buss.

The grand escape from the prison was one of my favorite plotlines. Even though I knew the basic storyline before reading — in fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen at least one movie, even if I don’t remember it at all — I was still surprised by the sheer thrill of Edmond’s daring escape plan and his unexpected plunge into the stormy ocean.

I grew quite attached to the character Albert, who was just generally being a sweet summer child. He wants so badly to have a fling while traveling in Italy but can’t even manage it — until he falls head over heels for a notorious bandit’s lover and allows himself to be tricked into getting kidnapped. Then he somehow manages to fall asleep while being held for ransom with the promise of execution if it can’t be paid. All this after he declared that he didn’t even believe in bandits! And he loves his mamma so dang much. The precious boy will do anything to keep her happy, and in the end he has to sacrifice quite a lot in order to do so. Such a beautiful cinnamon roll.

I did start to get a little annoyed by how everyone faints all the time. Every single named character faints or nearly faints at least once. Except for the butch lesbian.

Speaking of the butch lesbian, yes, this novel involves lesbians. One of them dresses as a dude and somehow gets away with it… until she’s caught in bed with her lady lover + piano teacher… by her 2nd ex-fiancé, a con artist on the run from the law. Anyway, these ladies are two of only six characters to actually get a happy ending, if you don’t count the aforementioned slight embarrassment.

I don’t even know how to describe how satisfying the Count’s revenge was. Multiple counts of revenge, and happily guilty of every single one. Well, no, he wasn’t 100 % happy with certain events, and frankly this wishy-washy, “Does God approve of my avenging angel plans or nah???” nonsense got a bit tiresome. But for the most part the whole revenge thing was extremely satisfying.

Don’t forget about all the funny little bits that make this more than just an overly long adventure novel. The book is a pleasure to read because Dumas makes the reader feel like you’re in on the plot and you know all the inside jokes. I don’t think he ever went so far as to have the characters flat-out break the fourth wall, but some passages are written in such a way that I could practically hear the author having a good chuckle about the whole thing.

There was only one thing that I somewhat disliked about The Count of Monte Cristo, though I’m inclined to partially forgive it as a mere reflection of the values of the time the book was written in. I’m talking about the supposedly loving or merciful way that the Count treats two particular women, which is clearly meant to make him seem kind and fair and righteous, but which — for me — only highlighted an outdated double standard made possible by the sort of infantilization and objectification of adult women that was a normal part of European culture at the time.

Mercédès, Edmond’s fiancée prior to his imprisonment, assumed he was dead or lost forever and she ended up marrying one of his enemies, whom she thought was a friend.

The poor woman:

lost the man she loved
married a presumed friend only because society expected it of her
lived a dull life with this man for many years and provided for him a son/heir like any good wife should
discovered far too late that the man she loved had survived and blamed her for “infidelity”
watched this man help ruin her husband’s admittedly ill-got fortune and her stability along with it
had to beg her long lost lover not to kill her son
and was ultimately driven back to near-poverty in the town where she grew up
with her son running off joining the military to atone for his father’s sins
where she survived only by the mercy of a small amount of money provided by her ex that was originally meant to have been a gift to her on their ruined wedding day
while she prays to God to forgive her for being “unfaithful”

And this is all seen as her just desserts because she didn’t pine away and die of sorrow while Edmond was in prison. That ain’t right. I stopped feeling sorry for the Count well before the end of the book, but I never stopped feeling sorry for Mercédès.

The other woman that I think gets the short end of the stick in this story is Haydée, the Count’s slave girl. That’s right, he has a slave girl. Who used to be a princess! In fact, the Count bought her as a child and practically raised her like a daughter… except for the whole “slave” thing.

But wait, it gets even grosser, because:

The count felt his breast swell and his heart fill. He opened his arms and Haydée threw herself into them with a cry. ‘Oh, yes! Oh, yes I love you!’ she said. ‘I love you as one loves a father, a brother, a husband! I love you as one loves life, and loves God, for you are to me the most beautiful, the best and greatest of created beings!’

That’s right, this girl that has up until now thought of her “owner” as a father figure or older brother is now supposed to see him as a lover. Um, how about NO. That is not how the human brain works. That is gross. That is not allowed. Je refuse.

Anyway, other than the weird slut shaming of a super not-slutty character and the yucky pseudo-incest… I really liked this book! So much ridiculous melodrama!

Links:

Publication information: Dumas, Alexandre. The Count of Monte Cristo. New York: Penguin, 2003. Print.
Source: Personal library.
Disclaimer: I am not compensated, monetarily or otherwise, for reviews of books or other products.

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