Brian McKenzie
I'm embarrassed that it has taken me so long to read this novel, a classic of Western literature and favourite of adventure story fans the world over. The story of Edmond Dantés, the hapless sailor unjustly imprisoned over false accusations of "Bonapartism" during France's turbulent civil war period, embroils us in a story of violence, deceit, vengeance and redemption. And though it is most commonly considered an adventure story in the vein of The Three Musketeers or A Tale of Two Cities, I think it's more accurate to classify this fun (and expansive) novel as a genre-defining example of espionage fiction. Yes, Le Carré, Fleming, Deighton and all the others owe a big debt to the structure, plot and style of Dumas' breathtaking and exciting story.
I say this because of all the spy novel tropes Dumas seems to have invented. Disguise, subterfuge, miraculous escapes, clever ruses and traps, exotic locales, secret operatives and operations, compromised dupes, misdirection . . . along with James Fennimore Cooper, Dumas laid down a template that spy novelists to this day still follow. The novel, complex, lengthy, and twisty though it is, has a fairly simple plot which, by now, everyone knows: Dantés escapes from the dungeons of Chateau D'If, recovers a hidden treasure, becomes the fabulously wealthy "Count of Monte Cristo" and sets about avenging himself on the men who had him imprisoned. The fun is in the methods.
Dumas takes great pains to construct Dantes' elaborate plot of revenge, deftly weaving multiple narrative strands together, telling in great detail the many backstories that modern authors would banish offstage and merely summarize through exposition. No, Dumas, clearly paid by the word, lets his story sprawl for over 1200 pages across the Mediterranean. At times you will wonder "why are we suddenly in Turkey? What was the point of the Carnival scenes? Why is the Pope releasing a condemned prisoner?" Not to worry: it all comes together and climaxes with Dantés having his revenge. That's no spoiler. Of course he has his revenge and emerges the victor. Watching it play out, though, is immensely satisfying as we see the way Dantés, playing the long game, builds a sham edifice in which he traps his foes.
But Dumas tells more than a tale of revenge. This is a highly moralistic novel, one that decries the sins of pride, envy, wrath, jealousy -- hell even gluttony and lust show their faces. The ending, while bringing satisfaction, also leaves us a little sad, a little regretful that a good man, faultless and loving, loses himself in the pursuit of his vengeance. Dumas the dramatist tells a compelling, propulsive and ultimately satisfying tale. Dumas the moralist asks us to consider whether it is all worth it in the end.
I'm embarrassed that it has taken me so long to read this novel, a classic of Western literature and favourite of adventure story fans the world over. The story of Edmond Dantés, the hapless sailor unjustly imprisoned over false accusations of "Bonapartism" during France's turbulent civil war period, embroils us in a story of violence, deceit, vengeance and redemption. And though it is most commonly considered an adventure story in the vein of The Three Musketeers or A Tale of Two Cities, I think it's more accurate to classify this fun (and expansive) novel as a genre-defining example of espionage fiction. Yes, Le Carré, Fleming, Deighton and all the others owe a big debt to the structure, plot and style of Dumas' breathtaking and exciting story.
I say this because of all the spy novel tropes Dumas seems to have invented. Disguise, subterfuge, miraculous escapes, clever ruses and traps, exotic locales, secret operatives and operations, compromised dupes, misdirection . . . along with James Fennimore Cooper, Dumas laid down a template that spy novelists to this day still follow. The novel, complex, lengthy, and twisty though it is, has a fairly simple plot which, by now, everyone knows: Dantés escapes from the dungeons of Chateau D'If, recovers a hidden treasure, becomes the fabulously wealthy "Count of Monte Cristo" and sets about avenging himself on the men who had him imprisoned. The fun is in the methods.
Dumas takes great pains to construct Dantes' elaborate plot of revenge, deftly weaving multiple narrative strands together, telling in great detail the many backstories that modern authors would banish offstage and merely summarize through exposition. No, Dumas, clearly paid by the word, lets his story sprawl for over 1200 pages across the Mediterranean. At times you will wonder "why are we suddenly in Turkey? What was the point of the Carnival scenes? Why is the Pope releasing a condemned prisoner?" Not to worry: it all comes together and climaxes with Dantés having his revenge. That's no spoiler. Of course he has his revenge and emerges the victor. Watching it play out, though, is immensely satisfying as we see the way Dantés, playing the long game, builds a sham edifice in which he traps his foes.
But Dumas tells more than a tale of revenge. This is a highly moralistic novel, one that decries the sins of pride, envy, wrath, jealousy -- hell even gluttony and lust show their faces. The ending, while bringing satisfaction, also leaves us a little sad, a little regretful that a good man, faultless and loving, loses himself in the pursuit of his vengeance. Dumas the dramatist tells a compelling, propulsive and ultimately satisfying tale. Dumas the moralist asks us to consider whether it is all worth it in the end.