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crispy98 's review for:
The Count of Monte Cristo
by Alexandre Dumas
2024- This is the only novel I've ever concluded feeling like I witnessed a piece of art. While I have enjoyed other tales more, every sentence in The Count of Monte Cristo was so elegantly interwoven to create a tremendously complex yet engaging plot. There is so much to deconstruct in this voluminous masterpiece that I included a polished version of the notes I took throughout my reading in addition to concluding thoughts at the end:
—————————
Chapter 1-30
My initial thought is, while this book flows well, it's evident that Dumas was paid by the word because of its verbosity. I find some particular words are held in high favor by great author and for Dumas it must have been ‘terra forma’ which has been recycled several times throughout the novel.
Caderousse is hard to figure out but I lean towards really liking him. He has a very-human envy when seeing someone, even a friend, achieve a higher level of success than himself. But, ultimately, he actively wants the best for Dantès. Dumas's prose shined in describing his drunkenness as full of love and denying his own inebriation.
There have been several fourth wall breaks I found unnecessary. You can see Dumas not realizing the legacy of his book when he asks the reader to recall how serious being a Bonaparte supporter “recently” was.
I cannot decide on who is more wretched: Fernand or Danglers. One is a twisted perversion of love and the other of ambition. It was a testament Dantès character to show Danglers the respect of sitting him to his immediate left despite their sour relationship.
Dumas so excellently wrote The Marquise de Saint-Méran to be infuriating in such few words while simultaneously adding a layer of insight to the story by revealing Villefort’s mental state prior to meeting Dantès.
The loving yet politically conflicted relationship between Villefort and Nortier I find particularly gripping. Time proved to be an interesting juxtaposition in their first dialogue with some things proving effervescent, like the inefficacy of bureaucratic talk (“the police being on the hunt meaning nothing”) whereas Noirtier’s simple disguise was enough to evade authorities.
Dantès emotional swings while locked up in prison show an understanding of human psychology in a greater capacity than what I thought possible at the time this was written. I do wonder if it possible for a real psyche to remain intact as wholly as Dantès after incurring the conditions he went through.
There are many ancient and “contemporary” allegories which, coupled with archaic verbiage, make some sentences only decipherable through context clues. It does, however, feel greatly rewarding when a reference does land.
Abbé Faria is a great character who brings a depth of perspective into every single conversation. In his first dialogue with Dantès there is a poignant reflection on the morality of killing, ingenious yet practical methods of living in a dungeon, and a reinvorigation of our protagonist’s motivation to escape. As their relationship develops, the abbé evolves from a kindred spirit to loving teacher. His impeccable character was epitomized when he tried crawling in the tunnel to impart his treasure to his pupil.
Moments that I would normally disparage as lazy plot device, such as moments of luck like going to the Isle of Monte Cristo with the smugglers, are events earned with incredible patience.
The animism of providence makes for an excellent recurring character.
I’ve come to enjoy that chapters vary drastically in length. Each holds a vital section of the story and are as long as they need to be.
Another extremely human moment was when Dantès tries to temper his own expectations before going to look for the treasure. What felt alien was how little Dantés reflected on taking his first life or that the abbé never tried to impart wisdom on what to do with the treasure once acquired.
I was not expecting to see Monsieur de Boville again but it proved to be a great instance of a minor honorable character being swiftly rewarded by Dantès, now acting as a force of justice.
From a literary perspective, it was emotionally gripping reading Morrell almost taking his life. In practicality, Dantès was cruel to draw out his suffering to such an extent. It was noble to act as a debt consolidator and give Morrell a means to save himself, but what if Dantès was a few minutes too late?
—————————
Chapter 30-52
Dantès has become a master of disguise far beyond that of the identities he dons. His past is a dead end, his accent can change on a whim, and he presents as a Nordic looking Frenchman with an Arabian name.
I have yet to feel bought in to Franz and this time skip in general. Dantès appears to have become the antithesis to the person I was rooting for. He now dines in opulence without his crew and he treats Ali far too subhuman, even accounting for when this was written.
Hashish has never been described more tantalizing although I do like that Dantès warns of its comedown effect. His secret hideout being a fully adorned apartment always stocked with global delicacies on an otherwise lawless island feels too outlandish.
Luigi’s flare of jealousy was so eloquently described but his quick descent to running a bandit camp felt unfounded. This isn’t a big complaint as that story is ultimately an aggrandizing game of telephone. The stories within stories of this section was a fun read, especially given that Dantès makes the briefest of appearances in them.
Given how much detail there is in this novel, it is surprising that Dumas skipped through Franz and Albert’s day of window watching or Duke Brecciano’s ball.
Luigi reading Caesar felt almost like Dantès when he was an enlightened criminal. Now Dantès appears barely human, literally recoiling at human touch.
I loved the revelation that Albert was the son of Mercédès and Fernand. This further reinforces my initial inclination that the bandit’s abduction was orchestrated.
The scenery change to Paris is met with a good mix of past characters and new ensemble.
Dantès reaction to Maximilien presented a flashback to the man we once knew. It was a funny moment when he flippantly revealed details that Franz thought important to keep secret.
Callbacks are not gimmicks but rather rewards for diligently investing in the plot. For example, in the backdrop there is the monumental political shift from monarchy to constitutional republic while Maximilien makes a direct reference to Penelon’s mention of Sinbad.
Despite this book’s page length, I wish aspects of the time skip time wasn’t rushed over. Though probably appreciated by readers at the time of original publication, I don’t need two pages describing Albert’s house when the far more interesting story of how the Dantès came to his current station is glossed over.
Danglers is portrayed so blatantly villainous it borders on stereotype. This can be swiftly forgiven for how witty Dantès is in his reintroduction, like his critique that Danglers lacks sophistication simply alluding to the banker only valuing old paintings because of their presumed value.
Dantès is gone and this new character, The Count of Monte Cristo, is hard to cheer for. Even his monologue turned into a villainous rant about breaking up Danglers’s marriage. His notion that pretending to know oneself is more valuable than true insight is another example of my aversion to him.
What does The Count even do to amaze Villefort? Their reintroduction felt particularly artificial, as simple philosophy was enough to gain the favor of a judge who Dumas just describes as someone who doesn’t particularly value existential conversation.
Despite it coming off a bit trite, it was sweet knowing that Morrell figured out on his deathbed that it was Dantès who saved his family.
—————————
Chapter 53-81
A reflection of The Count that I did find insightful was his notion that art is never truly lost, only removed and toured around the world with a new name. I wonder to what extent this is true, would the heroes journey look the same if humanity was brought back to the Neolithic era and started again?
The Count’s philosophy about humanity is so distasteful. His view that one’s conscious is solely a mechanism to relieve personal guilt displays a fundamental misunderstanding of what conscious is (a care for the good of others). Even his smaller personality quirks, like disliking music, reflects the cold monster he has become.
It feels as if Dumas has a personal hatred to Danglers as even his innocent daughter is uniquely described terribly uncharitable.
I found it to be a moment of interesting moment of social commentary that the “free” society of Paris holds little qualms when finding out about The Count’s slaves.
The Count displays such intricate planning when his employee is revealed to be mortal enemies with Villefort and his Grecian slave the victim of Fernand.
Normally I don’t enjoy where everything seems so interconnected but Franz being the son of the general shot by Noirtier was a complete and serendipitous suprise.
While I miss Dantès, The Count has become a fantastic anti-hero in a story that now feels like a soap opera. Much news is met with theatrical hysteria but it is jarring when The Count’s derision goes unnoticed, especially by the target of it. One moment of this that was excellently written was his reproach ofAlbert for taking offense to Danglers canceling a marriage he didn’t want to be a part of.
Maximilien and Valentine’s relationship is an easy love to root for although some aspects of it have not aged well. His threatening of suicide should she not be with him would be dark manipulation now but, in the context of that time, is understandable.
Characters’ dialogue has grown to be one of my favorite aspects of this book. The intricate precision which with they speak makes me remiss for a bygone time. We have become more technologically complex at the expense of linguistic superfluousness.
The Count has done a remarkable job at keeping his hands clean. From not backing the fake Italian prince nor helping Albert duel Beauchamp, he has retained good stature despite his insidious influence.
First there was Countess G——— and now there is the Establishment of M———. After reading, I found this to be because they are references to real people.
————————
Chapter 82-117
Working as a journalist during this time must involve a lot of duels as evident by Beauchamp’s casual reference to the Englishman he took out.
The Count so perfectly handled the Cavalcanti situation. No one, save for the one person who would owe him (Albert), acknowledged his involvement. His calculating nature continually shown to also have a despicable side, as evident when he describes his view of those in his employ like Bertuccio.
Another timeless snippet of social commentary is added by Dumas when describing how newspapers of completely opposite views are too often ran by friends.
Morcef’s courtroom declaration that he is willing to spill his own blood to prove himself equal to his peers shows a man with such twisted prioritizies. I am surprised to see him be the first destroyed as I feel he had the least page time of the three antagonists.
It was another great twist when it is revealed that the hidden drawer Caderousse was trying to steal from ‘only’ contained the original letter Dantès was betrayed by.
Ultimately, I find Albert to be one of the most benevolent characters, a sentiment sealed when he thanks Maximilien for being an honorable duel assistant to The Count.
The whole subplot involving The Count setting up a chain of horses to quickly travel to the sea proved anticlimactic. It does show the intricacies of his planning at the least.
Noirtier being the one who initially saved Valentine without The Count’s involvement fundamentally enhances world building by allowing others to impact the narrative outside of our protagonist’s involvement.
Maxilimien took quite awhile to get the point in telling The Count that his love was dying of poison. You would assume one would skip niceties in such time sensitive circumstances.
Dumas masterfully illustrates difference in integrity when describing the fiercely independent Eugénie’s for Andrea to take his life as a “ferocious honor”.
The warped perspective of Parisian high society is fully on display as circumstances have soured. Motherhood being presented by Madame Danglers as mainly being meant to model wisdom and perfection feels so shallow. Debray also has become a detestable character for even considering marrying Eugénie while in an affair with her mother.
Dumas does a great job of including natural reactions one would expect for all the events transpiring. A perfect example of not shirking the details is Eugénie’s comment that she escaped Albert’s family collapse only to be embarrassed by Andrea/Benedetto.
Villefort’s speech on striking the wicked within a wicked world was profound but ensconced in so much irony given that he was unknowingly talking about his own bastard.
The Count’s protection of Valentine proves he is not as soulless as he tries to present, a notion I have started to think after his kindness towards Mercédès and Albert.
I find it clever that Dumas refers to Abbé Busoni as if he isn’t Dantès.
The inclusion of the Morrel family throughout the story is a profound motif on the unavoidable connection inherent to humanity.
There has not been one cornerstone event signaling the climax of revenge coming to fruition but rather a gradual shift in tone.
Villefort’s moments of desperate hope, especially when thinking he could save just his son, made his downfall so much more intense when all was finally lost.
Mercédès last interaction with The Count particularly stung to read. From comparing every man to Dantès to now living the rest of life without that special shine of life was an unexpected but beautifully dark end to her character.
One of my favorite quotes from the novel: “The past, like the country through which we walk, becomes indistinct as we advance.”
The emerging juxtaposition in point of view between Dantès and The Count was not something I expected. I found it extremely satisfying that his forgiveness of Danglers, the most vile of his enemies, led to his rebirth as Dantès. This was further compunded by his visit to Château d'If and hearing his own legend.
Dantès must really enjoy dragging out the suffering of Morrels. At least with Maximilien he justifies his actions with a letter. Most profound was his signature now being Dantès, a powerful symbolization of his rebirth.
I cannot shake the skeevy feeling that Dantès happy ending was retiring from Paris with his new lover that is also adopted daughter. It also felt like an overstep when he implored Valentine to donate Noitier’s fortune away.
Outside of a few characters, like Franz, the conclusion did an excellent job of tying back to previous characters, such as Jacopo and Luigi Vampa, without feeling like a drawn out epilogue.
—————————
My note consolidation turned into quite an essay and still there are topics, like Dantès relationship with his father, that I did not touch upon. Some of my initial reactions, like favoring Caderousse, were misguided whereas some opinions, like finding the fourth wall breaks unnecessary, prevailed throughout the tale. Despite being a story of retributions, there is so much poetry reading how our three antagonists are undone by their individual original sin. Villefort is driven mad by his perverse wielding of justice, Fernand kills himself disgraced and abandoned by his family, and Danglers is forced to give up his fortune torturously slow in a setting similar to what was forced on to Dantès. The story of Dantès is a reflection of life itself, one that I find myself weeks later still thinking about. I’m particular, I’m drawn to the truly profound advice he gives to Maximilien and Valentine on the most powerful human words: wait and hope.
—————————
Chapter 1-30
My initial thought is, while this book flows well, it's evident that Dumas was paid by the word because of its verbosity. I find some particular words are held in high favor by great author and for Dumas it must have been ‘terra forma’ which has been recycled several times throughout the novel.
Caderousse is hard to figure out but I lean towards really liking him. He has a very-human envy when seeing someone, even a friend, achieve a higher level of success than himself. But, ultimately, he actively wants the best for Dantès. Dumas's prose shined in describing his drunkenness as full of love and denying his own inebriation.
There have been several fourth wall breaks I found unnecessary. You can see Dumas not realizing the legacy of his book when he asks the reader to recall how serious being a Bonaparte supporter “recently” was.
I cannot decide on who is more wretched: Fernand or Danglers. One is a twisted perversion of love and the other of ambition. It was a testament Dantès character to show Danglers the respect of sitting him to his immediate left despite their sour relationship.
Dumas so excellently wrote The Marquise de Saint-Méran to be infuriating in such few words while simultaneously adding a layer of insight to the story by revealing Villefort’s mental state prior to meeting Dantès.
The loving yet politically conflicted relationship between Villefort and Nortier I find particularly gripping. Time proved to be an interesting juxtaposition in their first dialogue with some things proving effervescent, like the inefficacy of bureaucratic talk (“the police being on the hunt meaning nothing”) whereas Noirtier’s simple disguise was enough to evade authorities.
Dantès emotional swings while locked up in prison show an understanding of human psychology in a greater capacity than what I thought possible at the time this was written. I do wonder if it possible for a real psyche to remain intact as wholly as Dantès after incurring the conditions he went through.
There are many ancient and “contemporary” allegories which, coupled with archaic verbiage, make some sentences only decipherable through context clues. It does, however, feel greatly rewarding when a reference does land.
Abbé Faria is a great character who brings a depth of perspective into every single conversation. In his first dialogue with Dantès there is a poignant reflection on the morality of killing, ingenious yet practical methods of living in a dungeon, and a reinvorigation of our protagonist’s motivation to escape. As their relationship develops, the abbé evolves from a kindred spirit to loving teacher. His impeccable character was epitomized when he tried crawling in the tunnel to impart his treasure to his pupil.
Moments that I would normally disparage as lazy plot device, such as moments of luck like going to the Isle of Monte Cristo with the smugglers, are events earned with incredible patience.
The animism of providence makes for an excellent recurring character.
I’ve come to enjoy that chapters vary drastically in length. Each holds a vital section of the story and are as long as they need to be.
Another extremely human moment was when Dantès tries to temper his own expectations before going to look for the treasure. What felt alien was how little Dantés reflected on taking his first life or that the abbé never tried to impart wisdom on what to do with the treasure once acquired.
I was not expecting to see Monsieur de Boville again but it proved to be a great instance of a minor honorable character being swiftly rewarded by Dantès, now acting as a force of justice.
From a literary perspective, it was emotionally gripping reading Morrell almost taking his life. In practicality, Dantès was cruel to draw out his suffering to such an extent. It was noble to act as a debt consolidator and give Morrell a means to save himself, but what if Dantès was a few minutes too late?
—————————
Chapter 30-52
Dantès has become a master of disguise far beyond that of the identities he dons. His past is a dead end, his accent can change on a whim, and he presents as a Nordic looking Frenchman with an Arabian name.
I have yet to feel bought in to Franz and this time skip in general. Dantès appears to have become the antithesis to the person I was rooting for. He now dines in opulence without his crew and he treats Ali far too subhuman, even accounting for when this was written.
Hashish has never been described more tantalizing although I do like that Dantès warns of its comedown effect. His secret hideout being a fully adorned apartment always stocked with global delicacies on an otherwise lawless island feels too outlandish.
Luigi’s flare of jealousy was so eloquently described but his quick descent to running a bandit camp felt unfounded. This isn’t a big complaint as that story is ultimately an aggrandizing game of telephone. The stories within stories of this section was a fun read, especially given that Dantès makes the briefest of appearances in them.
Given how much detail there is in this novel, it is surprising that Dumas skipped through Franz and Albert’s day of window watching or Duke Brecciano’s ball.
Luigi reading Caesar felt almost like Dantès when he was an enlightened criminal. Now Dantès appears barely human, literally recoiling at human touch.
I loved the revelation that Albert was the son of Mercédès and Fernand. This further reinforces my initial inclination that the bandit’s abduction was orchestrated.
The scenery change to Paris is met with a good mix of past characters and new ensemble.
Dantès reaction to Maximilien presented a flashback to the man we once knew. It was a funny moment when he flippantly revealed details that Franz thought important to keep secret.
Callbacks are not gimmicks but rather rewards for diligently investing in the plot. For example, in the backdrop there is the monumental political shift from monarchy to constitutional republic while Maximilien makes a direct reference to Penelon’s mention of Sinbad.
Despite this book’s page length, I wish aspects of the time skip time wasn’t rushed over. Though probably appreciated by readers at the time of original publication, I don’t need two pages describing Albert’s house when the far more interesting story of how the Dantès came to his current station is glossed over.
Danglers is portrayed so blatantly villainous it borders on stereotype. This can be swiftly forgiven for how witty Dantès is in his reintroduction, like his critique that Danglers lacks sophistication simply alluding to the banker only valuing old paintings because of their presumed value.
Dantès is gone and this new character, The Count of Monte Cristo, is hard to cheer for. Even his monologue turned into a villainous rant about breaking up Danglers’s marriage. His notion that pretending to know oneself is more valuable than true insight is another example of my aversion to him.
What does The Count even do to amaze Villefort? Their reintroduction felt particularly artificial, as simple philosophy was enough to gain the favor of a judge who Dumas just describes as someone who doesn’t particularly value existential conversation.
Despite it coming off a bit trite, it was sweet knowing that Morrell figured out on his deathbed that it was Dantès who saved his family.
—————————
Chapter 53-81
A reflection of The Count that I did find insightful was his notion that art is never truly lost, only removed and toured around the world with a new name. I wonder to what extent this is true, would the heroes journey look the same if humanity was brought back to the Neolithic era and started again?
The Count’s philosophy about humanity is so distasteful. His view that one’s conscious is solely a mechanism to relieve personal guilt displays a fundamental misunderstanding of what conscious is (a care for the good of others). Even his smaller personality quirks, like disliking music, reflects the cold monster he has become.
It feels as if Dumas has a personal hatred to Danglers as even his innocent daughter is uniquely described terribly uncharitable.
I found it to be a moment of interesting moment of social commentary that the “free” society of Paris holds little qualms when finding out about The Count’s slaves.
The Count displays such intricate planning when his employee is revealed to be mortal enemies with Villefort and his Grecian slave the victim of Fernand.
Normally I don’t enjoy where everything seems so interconnected but Franz being the son of the general shot by Noirtier was a complete and serendipitous suprise.
While I miss Dantès, The Count has become a fantastic anti-hero in a story that now feels like a soap opera. Much news is met with theatrical hysteria but it is jarring when The Count’s derision goes unnoticed, especially by the target of it. One moment of this that was excellently written was his reproach ofAlbert for taking offense to Danglers canceling a marriage he didn’t want to be a part of.
Maximilien and Valentine’s relationship is an easy love to root for although some aspects of it have not aged well. His threatening of suicide should she not be with him would be dark manipulation now but, in the context of that time, is understandable.
Characters’ dialogue has grown to be one of my favorite aspects of this book. The intricate precision which with they speak makes me remiss for a bygone time. We have become more technologically complex at the expense of linguistic superfluousness.
The Count has done a remarkable job at keeping his hands clean. From not backing the fake Italian prince nor helping Albert duel Beauchamp, he has retained good stature despite his insidious influence.
First there was Countess G——— and now there is the Establishment of M———. After reading, I found this to be because they are references to real people.
————————
Chapter 82-117
Working as a journalist during this time must involve a lot of duels as evident by Beauchamp’s casual reference to the Englishman he took out.
The Count so perfectly handled the Cavalcanti situation. No one, save for the one person who would owe him (Albert), acknowledged his involvement. His calculating nature continually shown to also have a despicable side, as evident when he describes his view of those in his employ like Bertuccio.
Another timeless snippet of social commentary is added by Dumas when describing how newspapers of completely opposite views are too often ran by friends.
Morcef’s courtroom declaration that he is willing to spill his own blood to prove himself equal to his peers shows a man with such twisted prioritizies. I am surprised to see him be the first destroyed as I feel he had the least page time of the three antagonists.
It was another great twist when it is revealed that the hidden drawer Caderousse was trying to steal from ‘only’ contained the original letter Dantès was betrayed by.
Ultimately, I find Albert to be one of the most benevolent characters, a sentiment sealed when he thanks Maximilien for being an honorable duel assistant to The Count.
The whole subplot involving The Count setting up a chain of horses to quickly travel to the sea proved anticlimactic. It does show the intricacies of his planning at the least.
Noirtier being the one who initially saved Valentine without The Count’s involvement fundamentally enhances world building by allowing others to impact the narrative outside of our protagonist’s involvement.
Maxilimien took quite awhile to get the point in telling The Count that his love was dying of poison. You would assume one would skip niceties in such time sensitive circumstances.
Dumas masterfully illustrates difference in integrity when describing the fiercely independent Eugénie’s for Andrea to take his life as a “ferocious honor”.
The warped perspective of Parisian high society is fully on display as circumstances have soured. Motherhood being presented by Madame Danglers as mainly being meant to model wisdom and perfection feels so shallow. Debray also has become a detestable character for even considering marrying Eugénie while in an affair with her mother.
Dumas does a great job of including natural reactions one would expect for all the events transpiring. A perfect example of not shirking the details is Eugénie’s comment that she escaped Albert’s family collapse only to be embarrassed by Andrea/Benedetto.
Villefort’s speech on striking the wicked within a wicked world was profound but ensconced in so much irony given that he was unknowingly talking about his own bastard.
The Count’s protection of Valentine proves he is not as soulless as he tries to present, a notion I have started to think after his kindness towards Mercédès and Albert.
I find it clever that Dumas refers to Abbé Busoni as if he isn’t Dantès.
The inclusion of the Morrel family throughout the story is a profound motif on the unavoidable connection inherent to humanity.
There has not been one cornerstone event signaling the climax of revenge coming to fruition but rather a gradual shift in tone.
Villefort’s moments of desperate hope, especially when thinking he could save just his son, made his downfall so much more intense when all was finally lost.
Mercédès last interaction with The Count particularly stung to read. From comparing every man to Dantès to now living the rest of life without that special shine of life was an unexpected but beautifully dark end to her character.
One of my favorite quotes from the novel: “The past, like the country through which we walk, becomes indistinct as we advance.”
The emerging juxtaposition in point of view between Dantès and The Count was not something I expected. I found it extremely satisfying that his forgiveness of Danglers, the most vile of his enemies, led to his rebirth as Dantès. This was further compunded by his visit to Château d'If and hearing his own legend.
Dantès must really enjoy dragging out the suffering of Morrels. At least with Maximilien he justifies his actions with a letter. Most profound was his signature now being Dantès, a powerful symbolization of his rebirth.
I cannot shake the skeevy feeling that Dantès happy ending was retiring from Paris with his new lover that is also adopted daughter. It also felt like an overstep when he implored Valentine to donate Noitier’s fortune away.
Outside of a few characters, like Franz, the conclusion did an excellent job of tying back to previous characters, such as Jacopo and Luigi Vampa, without feeling like a drawn out epilogue.
—————————
My note consolidation turned into quite an essay and still there are topics, like Dantès relationship with his father, that I did not touch upon. Some of my initial reactions, like favoring Caderousse, were misguided whereas some opinions, like finding the fourth wall breaks unnecessary, prevailed throughout the tale. Despite being a story of retributions, there is so much poetry reading how our three antagonists are undone by their individual original sin. Villefort is driven mad by his perverse wielding of justice, Fernand kills himself disgraced and abandoned by his family, and Danglers is forced to give up his fortune torturously slow in a setting similar to what was forced on to Dantès. The story of Dantès is a reflection of life itself, one that I find myself weeks later still thinking about. I’m particular, I’m drawn to the truly profound advice he gives to Maximilien and Valentine on the most powerful human words: wait and hope.