"The Count of Monte Cristo" by Alexandre Dumas

I haven't read the full text of this book since I was eleven.  Thirty years ago, I fell in love with Edmond Dantes, and this book has been in my top 3 ever since.  When I was a teen, I bought my own copy.  I reread it.  And I was a little confused because I remembered things about the story that seemed to be missing.  Like all this stuff about a baby in a box.  I finally decided I'd just confused The Count of Monte Cristo with some other book, and shrugged it off. 

It wasn't until a few years ago that I learned that many, many English translations significantly abridge this book.  And never bother to call themselves "abridged."  They cut out certain plotlines that the translators find distasteful or think modern audiences won't like... such as all that stuff about the baby in the box.  Well, once I learned that, I set out to find a good, reliable translation.  What I learned is that the Penguin edition pictured here, with a translation by Robin Buss, is considered the most accurate modern translation, so that's the version I've got now, and the one I read this summer.

I'm really not sure how they'd make a bunch of this work without the baby in the box, as that's kind of central to a big part of the plot, and I'm not surprised that I wondered where it went when I read that other version.  If you're scratching your head and saying, "I read this book, and there was no baby in a box," then you probably read a sneakily abridged version too.  I'm just sayin'.

Anyway, I read the real thing this time.  And I adored it all over again.  Yes, this book is 1200 pages.  It's a brick.  A chunkster.  A tome.  And I gobbled it right down.  For the last few hundred pages, I was so excited and happy I would put the book down and just bounce up and down with joy from how beautifully everything was slotting together.  My goodness, what a breathless ride.  

Quick summary of the plot in case you don't know it: Edmond Dantes is thrown into prison after being wrongly accused by a couple of men who are jealous of him.  He eventually escapes, becomes fabulously wealthy and sophisticated, and returns to France to wreck the men who wrecked his life, stole his fiancée, and starved his father.

I think two things set this apart from ordinary stories of revenge. First, I love how Dantes, as the Count of Monte Cristo, uses his enemies' own past crimes, as well as their pet sins, to ruin them.  He doesn't steal their fortunes or slander their names or steal their wives and sweethearts.  He just patiently brings their own long-buried secrets to light and lets them suffer the consequences of their own wrongdoing.  That's brilliant.

The other is that Dantes learns, eventually, that revenge can get away from the avenger and cause more harm than intended.  He discovers that, though he considers himself a tool of God for striking down wrongdoers, he is NOT God, and his strikes can cut too wide a path.  He also learns that revenge hollows you out, while helping others fills you up, and turns from one to the other at the end.

(Mine from my Instagram)

Particularly Good Bits:

"Happiness is like one of those palaces on an enchanted island, its gates guarded by dragons.  One must fight to gain it" (p. 42).

"Hatred is blind and anger deaf: the one who pours himself a cup of vengeance is likely to drink a bitter draught" (p. 385).

"There are two medicines for all ills: time and silence" (p. 523).

"I like everybody in the way that God ordered us to love our neighbours, that is, in Christian charity.  I only bestow true hatred on certain people" (p. 747).

"I do not think this is the moment to give way to sterile misery: that may be enough for those who want to suffer at their ease and have time to drink their own tears" (p. 786).

"He's a wonderful person for raising one's spirits, because he never asks questions: in my opinion, people who don't ask too many questions give the best consolation" (p. 938).

Moral wounds have the peculiarity that they are invisible, but do not close: always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain tender and open in the heart (p. 952).

People were hanging on his every word, as is always the case with those who say little and never waste words (p. 1048).

So, do live and be happy, children dear to my heart, and never forget that, until the day when God deigns to unveil the future to mankind, all human wisdom is contained in these two words: 'wait' and 'hope'! (p. 1243)

If This was a Movie, I Would Rate It: PG-16 for suggestive dialog, drug use (including a pretty racy drug-induced dream), some mild profanity, violence, and poisonings.

This has been my 26th book read and reviewed for my third Classics Club list.