Books read this week: The Count Of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas) 7/10
Dumas' masterpiece is probably my favourite piece of revenge fiction. The Count of Monte Cristo may be lacking in ninjas and current pop culture references (although I'm sure it was cutting edge at the time), but it more than makes this up with humour and the wonderfully cerebral nature of Edmond Dantes' revenge. My favourite example of this comes very early in the book; Edmond Dantes' enemies are sat in a bistro, plotting to have him incarcerated for a crime he did not commit, and one of them says "You know guys, I think we should think this over - Edmond Dantes strikes me as the kind of man who will come back in twenty five years and wreak a bloody vengeance on us all - I'm just saying."
It is interesting to contrast the popular perception of the Count of Monte Cristo with the novel itself. As the introduction notes, it is generally seen as a children's book. A tale of daring do and cunning escapes. Today however, we would generally consider a double infanticide, incest, domestice poisoning and slavery to not really be suitable for children. Although, as society has become more liberal, the lesbian characters are probably more acceptable now than they were then.
I think the contrast can most clearly be seen in popular culture in the graphic novel V For Vendetta (itself a perfect step-by-step guide to dismantling a fascist regime) and it's rather inferior film adaptation. V in the comic is modelled very clearly on the literary Count of Monte Cristo. A very scary man, with a dark and troubled past, a thirst for (ironic) vengeance and a set of fairly nebulous, extraordinary (and possible superhuman) abilities. But not a nice man. A terrorist, in the purest sense of the word; a man who uses terror as a weapon to destroy his enemies. The V of the film, on the other hand, is explicitly modelled on the black and white movie - a far more cheerful affair.
What I like most about Edmond Dantes' revenge however is the subtlety of it; he could, we are shown, easily kill all of his tormentors. He could fight duels, he could have them assassinated; he is a master chemist and could strike them down with traceless poison. He chooses to do none of these things; his weapon is the truth. He exposes their crimes, and destroys their families; he annihilates their fortunes, and exposes them to public ridicule. And then he has only to speak the four words "I am Edmond Dantes." to completely destroy them; of his three enemies, by the end one is dead, one is mad, and the Count lets the third one live. It is very elegant, very subtle, and very French. It is precisely because the truth is his weapon that we are able to empathise with Dantes; you have to admire a man who takes his revenge on the banker, Danglars, by arranging for his lesbian daughter to elope with her lover before an arranged marriage can take place.
In many ways the book is not really about the Count of Monte Cristo; Edmond Dantes the man was sympathetic; the Count is almost a force of nature; most of the drama lies in the reactions of the people aroudn him - much like in a disaster film; we do not ask about the motivation of the iceberg, or how it feels, we ask how people respond to the ship sinking.
It is the peripheral characters that make the book - whether it is Eugenie Danglars at the opera, when every other head is turned towards the mysterious Count saying "that woman with him is really, really hot." or Maximillien Morrel, who, because someone saved his father's life on the 5th September, goes out on that anniversary every year and performs a random act of heroic bravery or even little Luigi Vampa, the cultured Roman bandit. My absolute favourite however has to be Monsieur Noirtier. The only character in the book even close to being an intellectual match for the Count, an old Jacobin and professional revolutionary - paralysed from the eyes down. Capable of communicating only by blinking, he can still frustrate all of his son's evil schemes, reducing the villainous Crown Prosecutor to impotent shouting (I see him, a la Steptoe and Son, yelling "You dirty old man!" (in French, obviously)). When people start dying in the house, who solves the mystery? Monsieur Noirtier! When Valentine's evil stepmother tries to poison her, who saves her? Monsieur Noirtier! Is there anything he can't do?
It is interesting to me how many of the adaptations of the Count of Monte Cristo see the need to change the ending; there is a tendency to inject a discordant note of romance, by pairing Edmond Dantes with his original sweetheart Mercedes. The problem with this (as Mercedes herself points out in the book) is that she has spent twenty four years married to the Count's arch nemesis and has a twenty year old son. The book ends with Mercedes in a convent, and the Count with Haydee, the Greek slave girl/princess, when Haydee convinces the Count not to follow through with his original plan of suicide after taking his revenge. Although there are unfortunate implications from the relationship between the Count and Haydee (the book does it's best to deal with them by having all the pressure come from Haydee, but is not entirely successful) I like this ending better; mainly because Edmond Dantes and the Count of Monte Cristo are different people. Dantes was a simple sailor, and the Count is a cultured, sophisticated and utterly implacable incarnation of the human need for justice. Fundamentally, I like the ending because it recognises that people change; that twenty years is a long time, and that love generally isn't forever. It is a reassuringly realistic message in what is quite a melodramatic book. A further point against Mercedes is her somewhat inappropriate relationship with her son (can you say Oedipus complex?).
A final note: as is my custom, I read the Penguin Classics translation, by Robin Buss, and a very fine translation it is too. The introduction and notes are also excellent.
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