I’d recommend this book to:
This book has a lot of everything in it—adventure, romance, history, politics, philosophy. Due to this, and the sheer length of the book, it can feel like you’re actually visiting 19th-century France, getting a full taste of its culture, zeitgeist, and people, of a complex and spacious world. And a vast book calls for a long review.
The amount of thought and strategy used to construct it is amazing—sometimes he’ll casually mention a small detail in one chapter, and ten chapters later, it’ll be used to drive the plot. It’s like a giant puzzle. And it’s amazing how many characters’ lives are intertwined through the book—there are bishops, revolutionaries, policemen, thieves, gardeners, homeless children, each with a developed way of living and a strong sense of personality; each one of them carries the story on. Characters’ emotions are also very well-described. One of my favorite examples:
“...he said to himself that he really had not suffered enough to deserve such radiant happiness, and he thanked God, in the depths of his soul, for having permitted that he, a miserable man, should be so loved by this innocent being.”
On the downside, though, I think some of the characters’ personalities were too confined to a single point, a single trope. The most obvious example is Cosette; I feel that she didn’t have much personality besides being a daughter and a lover. If she had any hobbies, they were to make her seem more sweet and innocent, which annoyed me. But this is less noticeable in most of his characters.
The book primarily takes place in Paris, but a lot of different settings are visited, including monasteries, gardens, riots, prisons, grimy apartments, and Mardi Gras parades. There’s a lot of action and adventure; people escape from prison, start riots, get chased around the city, marry, fake their deaths. There is so much life and emotion; one can see why the musical adaptation was so successful. But there’s a lot that the musical and the film couldn’t capture, which I feel is a huge shame because half the beauty of the book (in my opinion) is listening to Hugo ramble about philosophy and France.
There are numerous detailed digressions into French history, some spanning over fifty pages, concerning, among other things, Waterloo, French monasteries, Louis Philippe, social progress, riots, jargon, and Parisian sewers (the sewers were surprisingly interesting.) However, his analyses of history are not purely technical—the way Hugo describes some of the history is very moving. He adds poetic, philosophical flair, looking for deeper meanings and lessons about humanity.
“For Bonaparte to be conqueror at Waterloo was not in the law of the nineteenth century ... The excessive weight of this man in human destiny disturbed the equilibrium. ... The moment had come for incorruptible supreme equity to look to it. ... Reeking blood, overcrowded cemeteries, weeping mothers–these are formidable pleaders. When the earth is suffering from a surcharge, there are mysterious moanings from the deeps which the heavens hear.
Napoleon had been impeached before the Infinite, and his fall was decreed.
He vexed God.
Waterloo is not a battle; it is the change of front of the universe.”
Although these are merely the observations of a history enthusiast. Others I know often found these sections tedious and awkward. (To be fair, they fill at least a quarter of the book)
He makes numerous philosophical asides to talk about a wide range of topics, but the ones compromising the book’s main themes are progress and compassion. To love each other, and to love humanity by fighting for it, even giving your life for its future. It’s very clear that his passion for these things pervades him, and I deeply respect him for that.
“How, being in possession of the false aim of life, happiness, we forget the true aim, duty!”
His passion for education and revolution is very 19th-century France, it’s very fitting. But I personally disagree with his hopefulness and radiant idealism. Mr. Hugo seems to think that an age of light, fairness, and universal love will one day be possible through education. True, knowledge can make people kinder, but there are also many with post-Enlightenment education who choose to be war criminals, dictators, or heartless, exploitative billionaires. For example, Stalin’s personal library held 20,000 books, and, on top of that, he was a Whitman fan. (Didn’t Whitman write a bunch of poems about love, nature, and equality?) And that’s just one example of the kind of people still living in our “sensible, modern” age. I shall concede that we’ve made a lot of social progress these last few centuries, but we can still say the world is filled with deep suffering. But again, I respect his passion; perhaps you’ll agree with him more than I do, if you’re less of a cynic.
Some last notes. Although the book is very long, it is very easy to analyze—when Hugo wants to make a point, he states it outright. The prose is great—calm but passionate and poetic. The book’s ending was unexpected, but very good.
Page created June 9, 2024. Last updated June 13, 2024