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3.85 AVERAGE
3.85 AVERAGE
Published in 1831, just as the French Restoration gave way to a constitutional monarchy, Hunchback is set during 1482, the final year of cruel Louis XI's reign. The omniscient narrator here, a man of 1830, frequently draws contrasts between the present of the story (1482) and the occasion of the story telling (1830), keeping the reader from total immersion in the tale. If 1482 comes off far worse in the comparison--and how could it not with an especially outrageous example of late medieval theological justice furnishing the novel's most horrific set piece--1830 is not completely absolved of it failings. Hugo's deep dislike of blinkered religion and corrupt government blaze through the pages here.
The novel's French title, Notre-Dame de Paris, is preferable to its English one, and Hugo did not stint in excoriating the title change because of how it shifted focus from the cathedral to the hunchback. The cathedral is the star here, the moral center, and one way to read the novel is by paying attention to how each character relates to and interacts with that grand edifice. Quasimodo is closest to the cathedral, is, in fact, its flesh and blood avatar, and there is a magnificently bloody battle in which the cathedral, manned by Quasimodo, rebuffs a rescue attempt by an army of vagabonds. This is also one of the novel's most pathetically ironic scenes, as the vagabonds and Quasimodo are actually pursuing the same goal, the salvation of the gypsy, Esmerelda, but are ignorant of that fact and are unable to communicate with one another. Quasimodo, among his other disabilities, is deaf to all but the loudest noises.
The characters, from Esmerelda to the predatory priest, Claude Frollo, to that spectacular moral void, the soldier Phoebus, are all symbols. None, except, possibly, Quasimodo, have a character arc of change, and his consists in moving from a state of brute existence to an awakening of soul, catalyzed by Esmerelda's act of kindness during his long and unjust punishment by pillory and scourge. This is Esmerelda's single act of agency in the novel. In all other respects, she exists as a victim.
From the modern perspective, which prizes character development and change, the novel would be considered a failure, and yet it is highly engaging. Picking a protagonist is challenge, though. Is it Quasimodo or his adoptive father, Claude Frollo? Is it the first character we meet, the failed playwright and surprisingly sympathetic Pierre Gringoire? We spend about the same amount of time with each of these characters, and each drop out of the narrative for long stretches as Hugo backtracks and shows us the same events from multiple perspectives. The structure is fascinating and repays close attention. A thesis could, and probably has been written about how the gibbet functions as a lethal, fixed attractor for the doomed gypsy girl Esmerelda. No matter how she tries, and how often she's rescued by Quasimodo, the crushing, dumb juggernaut of ecclesiastical justice, combined with the deadly indifference and moral rottenness of Phoebus, inexorably drag her to one of the worst ends you'll read in fiction, one that Hugo switches to a long-range view just to make it bearable.
There are the coincidences so loved by the 19th century novel in here, especially regarding the mysterious origin of Esmerelda, there is an interruption of narrative profluence for a long disquisition on architecture--all of book three, in fact, where none of the characters are mentioned--and yet the book is fascinating and affecting. The final chapters are a literary abattoir that only two characters manage to survive, and that's only if you count the goat, Djali. However, even when he's writing a treatise on architecture, Hugo's prose is incredibly readable.
The novel's French title, Notre-Dame de Paris, is preferable to its English one, and Hugo did not stint in excoriating the title change because of how it shifted focus from the cathedral to the hunchback. The cathedral is the star here, the moral center, and one way to read the novel is by paying attention to how each character relates to and interacts with that grand edifice. Quasimodo is closest to the cathedral, is, in fact, its flesh and blood avatar, and there is a magnificently bloody battle in which the cathedral, manned by Quasimodo, rebuffs a rescue attempt by an army of vagabonds. This is also one of the novel's most pathetically ironic scenes, as the vagabonds and Quasimodo are actually pursuing the same goal, the salvation of the gypsy, Esmerelda, but are ignorant of that fact and are unable to communicate with one another. Quasimodo, among his other disabilities, is deaf to all but the loudest noises.
The characters, from Esmerelda to the predatory priest, Claude Frollo, to that spectacular moral void, the soldier Phoebus, are all symbols. None, except, possibly, Quasimodo, have a character arc of change, and his consists in moving from a state of brute existence to an awakening of soul, catalyzed by Esmerelda's act of kindness during his long and unjust punishment by pillory and scourge. This is Esmerelda's single act of agency in the novel. In all other respects, she exists as a victim.
From the modern perspective, which prizes character development and change, the novel would be considered a failure, and yet it is highly engaging. Picking a protagonist is challenge, though. Is it Quasimodo or his adoptive father, Claude Frollo? Is it the first character we meet, the failed playwright and surprisingly sympathetic Pierre Gringoire? We spend about the same amount of time with each of these characters, and each drop out of the narrative for long stretches as Hugo backtracks and shows us the same events from multiple perspectives. The structure is fascinating and repays close attention. A thesis could, and probably has been written about how the gibbet functions as a lethal, fixed attractor for the doomed gypsy girl Esmerelda. No matter how she tries, and how often she's rescued by Quasimodo, the crushing, dumb juggernaut of ecclesiastical justice, combined with the deadly indifference and moral rottenness of Phoebus, inexorably drag her to one of the worst ends you'll read in fiction, one that Hugo switches to a long-range view just to make it bearable.
There are the coincidences so loved by the 19th century novel in here, especially regarding the mysterious origin of Esmerelda, there is an interruption of narrative profluence for a long disquisition on architecture--all of book three, in fact, where none of the characters are mentioned--and yet the book is fascinating and affecting. The final chapters are a literary abattoir that only two characters manage to survive, and that's only if you count the goat, Djali. However, even when he's writing a treatise on architecture, Hugo's prose is incredibly readable.
Could have been much shorter and all the better for it. I loved Quasimodo and La Esmeralda and how their stories collided but there was a lot of politics and history that interested me a lot less.
Petica, iako mi je lik Esmeralde bio toliko iritantan da sam ja htela da se obesim. Ipak, veličanstveno delo, zaista.
Ripensandoci, è uno dei libri migliori che ho mai letto. Di cui ho bellissimi ricordi.
Sul momento però non è stato il libro giusto al momento giusto. Come se mi aspettassi altro.
Sul momento però non è stato il libro giusto al momento giusto. Come se mi aspettassi altro.
Uggghhh!!! I finally finished this book! With a permanent deadline in four days (can't renew at the library after having it for three months) I finally was able to skim through the last 300 pages. Hugo has some beautifully written thoughts but no, I can't forgive him for stopping the story AGAIN to talk about something else. I was pretty engrossed in the last quarter of the story, you know, the train wreck part. Well, maybe the whole thing was a train wreck in more ways than one. I hate tragic endings and injustice. As is expressed in one of my favorite plays, "The Importance of Being Earnest:" the good end happily and the bad end unhappily; that is what fiction means.
And I really did not like Frollo (are we supposed to?) or Phoebus and I was really irritated by Esmeralda's stupid crush on an awful man while being entirely unaffected by the kindness of someone who truly loved her. Quasimodo had the only real case for true love by putting her before himself but everyone else was insane or just indecent. But maybe there is something to be said in the idea that the one who was considered a beast was the only one who could truly love.
I can appreciate Hugo's passion for architecture and medieval history but I also think his glorification of medieval architecture is slightly ridiculous. That somehow medieval architecture is the end all be all of beauty. Seriously? I am offended on behalf of all architectural history that has come since.
He also explored the notion of the printed word killing architecture (among other interpretations of "This will kill that.") He says, "A book is quickly made, costs so little, and may go so far! Is it surprising all human thought should flow down that slope?" To that I would like to respond that all human thought was never represented by architecture! Only the few who were rich enough to pay for the architecture could have their thoughts represented. All human thought was never on the lofty mountain top that is architecture in order that it may flow down to the printed word. No, Victor Hugo, it is not surprising that all human thought would relish the newfound freedom of being able to be expressed. But instead of human thought being portrayed as flowing downward at the advent of printing, I consider all human thought as being able to enlarge and flow upward and outward into the great expanse of heaven and earth to learn and grow and understand and challenge and be corrected and validated. In my opinion the printing press is a symbol of freedom - the medieval architecture is a symbol of ignorance and oppression. Great societies prior to the Dark Ages valued literacy and knowledge and the printed word. The medieval era and its architecture is hardly a representation of all of world history. The chapter on how the printed word will kill architecture made me think that maybe his own printed word on the subject was what was going to kill architecture!
Anyway, Hugo has aroused my passion for philosophizing, however erroneous my opinions may be, so I have to give him credit for that. I kind of think it would be fun to sit with him in my living room and discuss his opinions on art and architecture and history and human nature in comparison with my own. I just did not enjoy laboring through this book.
And I really did not like Frollo (are we supposed to?) or Phoebus and I was really irritated by Esmeralda's stupid crush on an awful man while being entirely unaffected by the kindness of someone who truly loved her. Quasimodo had the only real case for true love by putting her before himself but everyone else was insane or just indecent. But maybe there is something to be said in the idea that the one who was considered a beast was the only one who could truly love.
I can appreciate Hugo's passion for architecture and medieval history but I also think his glorification of medieval architecture is slightly ridiculous. That somehow medieval architecture is the end all be all of beauty. Seriously? I am offended on behalf of all architectural history that has come since.
He also explored the notion of the printed word killing architecture (among other interpretations of "This will kill that.") He says, "A book is quickly made, costs so little, and may go so far! Is it surprising all human thought should flow down that slope?" To that I would like to respond that all human thought was never represented by architecture! Only the few who were rich enough to pay for the architecture could have their thoughts represented. All human thought was never on the lofty mountain top that is architecture in order that it may flow down to the printed word. No, Victor Hugo, it is not surprising that all human thought would relish the newfound freedom of being able to be expressed. But instead of human thought being portrayed as flowing downward at the advent of printing, I consider all human thought as being able to enlarge and flow upward and outward into the great expanse of heaven and earth to learn and grow and understand and challenge and be corrected and validated. In my opinion the printing press is a symbol of freedom - the medieval architecture is a symbol of ignorance and oppression. Great societies prior to the Dark Ages valued literacy and knowledge and the printed word. The medieval era and its architecture is hardly a representation of all of world history. The chapter on how the printed word will kill architecture made me think that maybe his own printed word on the subject was what was going to kill architecture!
Anyway, Hugo has aroused my passion for philosophizing, however erroneous my opinions may be, so I have to give him credit for that. I kind of think it would be fun to sit with him in my living room and discuss his opinions on art and architecture and history and human nature in comparison with my own. I just did not enjoy laboring through this book.
What can I say, what worked for LM does not work for me with THOND.
Overall themes thought provoking, but all rather a drag.
Resonance with me is the abuse of power, the "leading" of the populace, whether religion or today the stiring up of bigotry.
M. Hugo does it again, his final comment regarding Captain Phoebus!! ;-)
It would appear I missed my calling, not getting elected to be Pope of the Fools!
Overall themes thought provoking, but all rather a drag.
Resonance with me is the abuse of power, the "leading" of the populace, whether religion or today the stiring up of bigotry.
M. Hugo does it again, his final comment regarding Captain Phoebus!! ;-)
It would appear I missed my calling, not getting elected to be Pope of the Fools!
3,5 ?
J'ai beaucoup aimé découvrir l'histoire originale de Quasimodo et de la Esmeralda, et par la même occasion j'ai aussi (enfin) découvert l'œuvre du grand Victor Hugo. En effet, malgré toute une scolarité réalisée en France, ce n'est qu'à la fin de ma première année de licence de lettres que je me plonge enfin dans un roman de cet auteur français si connu. Et, ce qui est encore plus étonnant, c'est avant tout l'incendie qui a touché le monument le mois dernier qui m'a incitée à ouvrir ce livre…
Bref, aujourd'hui je l'ai terminé et, évidemment, c'était une très belle expérience. Evidemment, cette lecture m'a touchée et la fin m'a tout particulièrement émue. Quelle belle façon de terminer un roman placé sous l'astre de l'amour tragique ! Quelle ambiance digne du fameux mythe de la Belle et la Bête ! Le contraste entre le personnage de Quasimodo, bourru, borgne et bossu, et celui d'Esmeralda, douce colombe énergique, est extrêmement intéressant à suivre et à analyser.
Mais bon sang! ce qu'Esmeralda est idiote. Je suis consciente d'être injuste en disant cela, mais elle a réellement mis ma patience à l'épreuve. Tous les personnages autour d'elle se plient en quatre pour la sauver, l'aider, et pourtant parfois je l'aurais bien mise sur le gibet moi-même. La scène avec Gudule fut la pire et je l'ai littéralement détestée à cet instant. Evidemment, cette "haine" résulte avant tout de l'affection que je lui ai portée et de mon terrible espoir qu'elle s'en sorte finalement.
Mais je tenais encore plus à Quasimodo, le vrai héro de ce roman.
Jehan aussi, je l'aimais malgré sa personnalité insupportable. Et, c'est d'ailleurs là que réside le vrai génie de Victor Hugo, même Frollo m'a parfois fait de la peine. C'est un personnage détestable mais il semble si impuissant face à tous ses démons, face à Ananké, la fatalité, que je n'ai pas toujours réussi à le détester.
Ainsi, les personnages prennent place dans une intrigue qui mêle le roman historique, philosophique et même parfois fantastique. Je ne peux évidemment que conseiller de lire ce livre.
J'ai beaucoup aimé découvrir l'histoire originale de Quasimodo et de la Esmeralda, et par la même occasion j'ai aussi (enfin) découvert l'œuvre du grand Victor Hugo. En effet, malgré toute une scolarité réalisée en France, ce n'est qu'à la fin de ma première année de licence de lettres que je me plonge enfin dans un roman de cet auteur français si connu. Et, ce qui est encore plus étonnant, c'est avant tout l'incendie qui a touché le monument le mois dernier qui m'a incitée à ouvrir ce livre…
Bref, aujourd'hui je l'ai terminé et, évidemment, c'était une très belle expérience. Evidemment, cette lecture m'a touchée et la fin m'a tout particulièrement émue. Quelle belle façon de terminer un roman placé sous l'astre de l'amour tragique ! Quelle ambiance digne du fameux mythe de la Belle et la Bête ! Le contraste entre le personnage de Quasimodo, bourru, borgne et bossu, et celui d'Esmeralda, douce colombe énergique, est extrêmement intéressant à suivre et à analyser.
Mais bon sang! ce qu'Esmeralda est idiote. Je suis consciente d'être injuste en disant cela, mais elle a réellement mis ma patience à l'épreuve. Tous les personnages autour d'elle se plient en quatre pour la sauver, l'aider, et pourtant parfois je l'aurais bien mise sur le gibet moi-même. La scène avec Gudule fut la pire et je l'ai littéralement détestée à cet instant. Evidemment, cette "haine" résulte avant tout de l'affection que je lui ai portée et de mon terrible espoir qu'elle s'en sorte finalement.
Mais je tenais encore plus à Quasimodo, le vrai héro de ce roman.
Jehan aussi, je l'aimais malgré sa personnalité insupportable. Et, c'est d'ailleurs là que réside le vrai génie de Victor Hugo, même Frollo m'a parfois fait de la peine. C'est un personnage détestable mais il semble si impuissant face à tous ses démons, face à Ananké, la fatalité, que je n'ai pas toujours réussi à le détester.
Ainsi, les personnages prennent place dans une intrigue qui mêle le roman historique, philosophique et même parfois fantastique. Je ne peux évidemment que conseiller de lire ce livre.
One of my favorite books I've read in recent memory.
Hugo's novel is a wonderfully bitter, often sarcastic tale of obsession and corruption with unforgettable characters, from the washed-up poet Gringoire to the brilliant but corrupted priest Frollo, and settings, like the Court of Miracles and Notre Dame, who becomes a character herself. The frequent wordplay is entertaining (so many puns, and Latins ones, the best kind.) Hugo's passion for architecture and preservation is fully on display at various points throughout, and in particular his descriptions of Notre Dame are both inspiring and haunting.
The Oxford World's Classics translation is energetic and modern. A reference image of at least the facade of Notre Dame is recommended.
Hugo's novel is a wonderfully bitter, often sarcastic tale of obsession and corruption with unforgettable characters, from the washed-up poet Gringoire to the brilliant but corrupted priest Frollo, and settings, like the Court of Miracles and Notre Dame, who becomes a character herself. The frequent wordplay is entertaining (so many puns, and Latins ones, the best kind.) Hugo's passion for architecture and preservation is fully on display at various points throughout, and in particular his descriptions of Notre Dame are both inspiring and haunting.
The Oxford World's Classics translation is energetic and modern. A reference image of at least the facade of Notre Dame is recommended.