Les Misérables (the book)

On my last trip to the library¹ I found myself in the 'classics' section where I spotted a paperback copy of Les Misérables. I'd gone through the previous haul of books fairly quickly, at least in part to make up for the book-drought imposed during my rehearsal period for Suddenly At Home (as described here) and it occurred to me that I should borrow it, if for no other reason than I had the time.

Despite its literary significance — it's one of those books that always shows up on 'best of', 'most significant' and 'must read before you die under the wheels of a runaway stagecoach' lists — I'd never read it before. In fact, I don't think I'd even seen a copy of it before; while I'm sure a few people I know must own it, I've never noticed it in anyone's bookshelves.

I knew some of the story — between the number of references in pop culture, and having seen a brilliant production of the musical by Adelaide's Gilbert & Sullivan Society a few years back — but, considering the book is nearly 1200 pages long, with 130 or so more pages of notes², there's obviously a lot more to it.

The length was daunting — even for me, whose shelves³ groan under the weight of such tomes as Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, by Susannah Clarke; The Lord of The Rings⁴; Magician, by Raymond Feist; IT, by Stephen King; the Asia novels of James Clavell, and the fattest of the Harry Potter series.

Why read it? Well, it is — as I mentioned — a very highly regarded work. Then there's the fact that it's not only great literature, but great French literature. And I'm becoming more and more interested in all things Français, since — as I noted in my post on tattoos — I've got not-too-distant French ancestry.

So, with that in mind, I heaved it off the shelf. Now, over a month of reading later, I've finally finished it.

¹The St Peters branch of the SWAP library network to be precise.
²And, unless you've been educated in Classics (i.e. Greek and Roman history, mythology, philosophy and so forth), Latin, French history and world literature, you're going to need to read most of these. I did, and I've probably got a better than average knowledge of such things.
³Actually, most of my books are in boxes. But boxes don't groan, and I like to be evocative.
⁴I shouldn't have to tell you who that's by.

Slow-going

Like I said, over a month. It has never taken me this long to read a book. Ever. And I've read a lot of books. But it's just so damn dense, and the notes so frequent; the flipping back and forth made the going even slower.

Half action, half...other stuff

There are huge chunks devoted to describing events the occur during, and prior to, the period of 1815-1832 when the novel is set — which, of course, includes the first French Revolution (the one with Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette and the frequent use of M. Guillotine's most notable invention); and the rise and fall of Napoleon Bonaparte — and listing significant real-life people and their achievements. There's an astonishing amount of information on the characters — even the minor ones — and fine detail about things like geography, politics and the history of the Paris sewer system.

But it's all relevant⁵ in context, since one of the major themes of the story seems to be that people are, to an extent, a product of their environment, with the subsequent implication being that how the characters deal with the events surrounding them is a result of the combination of their being a product of France's — and, in particular, Paris's — history, political climate and culture.

And since it all takes place amongst actual historical events, there's a certain amount of truth to it.

But it's not entirely objective; Hugo engages in significant social commentary throughout — at times it seems that the events of the story are simply a vehicle for Hugo to paint a picture of a nation and a people in turmoil, and combine that with a cast of characters who demonstrate the astonishing breadth of human complexity.

⁵Well, up to a point; I have to admit he could probably have conveyed all the same information just a bit more succinctly.

The translation

One of the things I didn't like was the translation. A lot of the word choices seem strange, sometimes even to the point of undermining the power of the scene —I'd felt this at a low level throughout, but it really came to a head when a character used the word 'baloney' to mean nonsense. Why 'baloney'? It's a very American term, and seemed — to me — a very poor choice. And it only got worse after that; prison is referred to as 'the clink', children as 'nippers' — a term I truly despise — and a whole bunch more I shudder to think about.

I'd like to get hold of an untranslated version and see what it is in the original French. While I don't actually speak French⁶, it's not as if there aren't plenty of translators on the internet⁷.

What bothers me more, though, is that this seems to be a common trait in modern translations of classic novels. Part of what made me struggle with Don Quixote was the 'feel' of the text; the attempt at a contemporary tone meant it didn't read like something written five hundred years ago and instead came across as something akin to listening to your parents trying to do karaoke hip-hop.

⁶Yet. Part of the 'embracing my heritage' thing includes learning French, though I don't know when that's going to happen; theatre always seems to get in the way.
⁷My preferred choice is Alta Vista Babel Fish, which I of course use in honour of the late, great Douglas Adams and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

The story

Honestly, there's really no way to explain exactly what happens — at least, not to my satisfaction, and without giving too much away. But it involves a man — Jean Valjean — who is seeking redemption, and those whose lives become intertwined with his — chiefly Fantine, Cosette, Inspector Javert, the Thenardiers and Marius.

Oh, and about a thousand other random people, some of whom get a more detailed backstory than the main characters of many other books.

It culminates in an actual historical event, the June Rebellion, where there was rioting and fighting between anti-monarchists and the police/military; it's where the famous barricades become particularly important.

One of the slightly irritating things about it, though, is that, like those of his English contemporary Charles Dickens (Oliver Twist being a good example), the story relies on astonishing coincidence after astonishing coincidence. That certain peoples' paths can cross — multiple times — in a city the size of Paris (population somewhere around 650 000 in 1832) is really pushing a reasonable suspension of disbelief.

Characters

What isn't social commentary is character study. Most of the characters are very complex and, given the number of pages Hugo uses in documenting every last damn thought in their heads, you're never left to guess at what their motivations might be.

His 'good' characters are good people, but still have enough flaws to avoid Mary Sue territory⁸. The 'bad' characters (though, for some, it's not really that's black and white) aren't, for the most part, as complex — though that can, to some extent, be attributed to the fact that more of the story is told from the 'good' characters' perspective.

Hugo does a great job with the Thenardiers, who are two of the vilest characters in fiction⁹ — something that's not quite as evident in the musical, partly because there isn't as much time devoted to demonstrating their depravity, and perhaps because, in that adaptation, they get to sing the lively and fun Master of the House¹⁰.

Cosette, though, gets very little development, which seems somewhat odd given the amount of time Hugo devoted to the other characters.

⁸An unrealistic character with few flaws; see the TV Tropes page on the topic. Or read/see any of the  Twilight stories...
⁹I consider the gold standard to be Dolores Umbridge from Harry Potter. I've rarely hated someone as much as I hated her, which I think is a testament to JK Rowling's ability as a writer.
¹⁰Pipe down, chorus boy.

History and culture

Waterloo

There's a huge chunk of the book devoted to describing the events of Waterloo, but — not unexpectedly — from the French perspective rather than the English¹¹. Since it's something all of the few people I've spoken to about it have mentioned, it's not like I didn't expect it; what I didn't expect, though, was that I found it extremely informative — to the point where I'm keen to read more about the event¹².

¹¹Or, to be technically correct, the allied countries known as the Seventh Coalition — I knew it wasn't just England, but wasn't sure exactly who else was involved.
¹²Unfortunately, that means it goes on the end of a very long list of things I want to read. I still haven't read anything about Orson Welles yet, and I jumped on that particular bandwagon several months ago.

Paris

While it isn't exactly a surprise, I wasn't quite prepared for just how much Hugo — and, by extension, the French people in general — adores Paris. To him there's no question; it's the greatest city in the modern world, and the spiritual heir to the great cities of antiquity — particularly Athens.

A nation of philanderers

Hugo goes into a lot of detail describing the habits of the French aristocracy — and can barely write a sentence without mentioning someone's mistress, bastard child or illicit lover(s). I mean, the French do have a reputation¹³ for being amorous, but still.

However, he's included it as the reporting of fact rather than the passing of judgement, and it's extremely important for painting a picture of the culture in which the events take place — as well as, in some cases — establishing character.

¹³To wit: in an episode of Blackadder I watched recently, Prince George remarked that he was '...as happy as a Frenchman who's just invented a pair of self-removing trousers'.

Religion

While Hugo doesn't come across as an atheist, he clearly has little fondness for many aspects of the Catholic Church — particularly the asceticism of the monastic aspects. He likens the lives of nuns and monks to those of convicted criminals sentence to hard labour — and, in Hugo's time, hard labour was very hard indeed.

However, he does believe in the power of religion to bring out the good in people.

Themes

Yeah, it's got themes coming out the derrière — Valjean's determination to stay true to his principles, and honour his promises, and Marius and his student friends' devotion to their cause being the most prominent.

It's not all 'good triumphs over evil' though; several characters who do good things do come to unpleasant ends – though this can be seen as redemptive — and several nasty characters get through it all without any kind of comeuppance.

The importance of love and compassion feature heavily; Hugo, after all, is considered a key figure in the Romantic movement in art and literature.

A lot of the thematic elements tie in with the social commentary; the harsh treatment of petty criminals by the French justice system, for example, and how a minor infraction could ruin the lives of not only the person who committed the crime, but their whole family.

So...

Well, I'm certainly glad I spent all that time reading it; it's an amazing work and, apart from anything else, I learned a great deal about France, its people and its history. It's something I think anyone who's interested in literature should read, but — given its sluggish pace, length and density — I don't really blame anyone for not wanting to spend that much time wading through it.

So, if you're up to it, I say give it a shot. Just be prepared to put in some serious time and effort.