Review: The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

A series of unfortunate circumstances and unfaithful friends combine to cause the bright and promising young Edmund Dantes to be thrown into prison just as the best part of his life is about to begin. Confined to a dank dungeon cell, Dantes loses everything: his prospects, his family, his fiancée, and even his name — he becomes only prisoner 34.

Despite his dire position, Dantes makes an unexpected and valuable friend: Abbé Faria, the prisoner in the cell beside his, a wise and knowledgeable old man from whom Dantes learns much — including the location of a secret treasure.

Many years later, when he emerges from the prison, the positive and trusting side of Dantes’ character has been whittled away, leaving in prominence the burning desire for revenge, and the brainpower and resources for a masterful plan of action — to make those who destroyed his happiness pay.

The Count of Monte Cristo is a story about the lengths ambition, greed and revenge will lead to — and at the same time a darkly satisfying and exciting tale. I don’t know what I was expecting when I headed into this novel, but I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it as much as I did, nor to be so captivated and excited by the plot and characters.

Another thing that surprised me was just how much the book drew me in emotionally; I was as angered by the actions of Dantes’ enemies as he was, and as satisfied and motivated in his quest for revenge — I felt all his suspense, excitement, anger, anguish, and passion. All in all, I was hooked and invested from start to finish.

The book’s characters are alive and interesting from the start, not distant or flat and one-dimensional. The pacing of the story is also good, especially for such a long novel, and it avoids dragging anywhere as you might expect. This was a pleasant surprise to me, as most long novels I’ve read, even the ones I’ve enjoyed, have contained slow patches that are a little tedious to get through.

It is also extremely well written; the dialogue is witty and well-constructed, and the style of writing lends itself excellently to the story and its nature, making it an enjoyable read, and causing the pages to seem to fly by. It is worth noting here that the novel was originally written in French, and so the translation that you choose (unless you are reading it in its original language) can have an impact on your reading experience. I have heard complaints about some of the versions, and many say that the Robin Buss translation — the translation that I read — is the best in many ways. I highly enjoyed it, and was still able to enjoy the plays on words and the intricacies and richness of the language used; as such, I have no qualms in recommending this translation.

Probably my favourite thing about this book was that, aside from the excitement and adventure, the storyline was just highly satisfying. I enjoyed following the Count’s masterful machinations, and the moments when things were revealed little by little. I loved the intrigue and the mystery of it, the almost gleeful satisfaction of knowing that people were going to get what they deserved and watching their slow destruction. (I don’t know what this says about me as a person, but there you have it.)

That said, to my mind, the book’s exploration of the idea of justice is very interesting; it shows what would perhaps be considered by us as humans to be true justice coming to pass, and though we are rooting for it, when it happens we feel somewhat aghast and horrified, calling into question whether we really would want justice to be done in every occasion, or whether it is better that, as it stands, it is in the hands of a greater being who knows better than we do.

There really was very little about this story that I did not enjoy. Truthfully, however, I was not quite comfortable in the way that it portrayed non-Europeans and women; there are clear orientalist attitudes present in the text, and the Count keeps slaves — one mute black man and an oriental woman — which, though he treats them well, doesn’t really erase their position.

Additionally, the story is predominantly focused on men, with most of the women being paragons of virtue and fainting love interests or scheming and immoral villainesses, lacking the well-rounded characters and “screen time” that the men have. Though this reflects the times in which it was written, and nothing is heinously problematic or vitriolic in its portrayal, it does revert to stereotypes that are long out of date in this day and age.

As I touched on before, I also think the book showed some interesting insights into human nature. Beyond the presentation of questions of justice, there are interesting observations provided by the characters’ actions — though I can’t get into this while avoiding spoilers. Suffice it to say that I found there was more to it than just a rollicking good story, although it was definitely that.

In conclusion, this was just a really good story all around, and well worth the 1243 pages it took to get through it. I highly enjoyed it, and would enthusiastically recommend it to anybody willing to brave its length; one of my favourite classics I have ever read.