The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

*Caution - Spoilers in this review!*

I finished reading the unabridged version of The Count of Monte Cristo and I feel like I've finished a marathon.  I'm looking around for someone to hand me a gold-plated medal with a book on it and the phrase, "I read all 1,276 pages!" engraved on it.  That's not to say that I didn't enjoy reading it, because I most definitely did, but it was a long journey. 

The Count of Monte Cristo was published in 1844, and it's stuck around in our reading consciousness ever since.  Countless versions of the story exist, ranging from children's editions, to movies, to comics.  The plot concerns Edmond Dantès, a plucky young sailor on the verge of becoming captain of a ship and marrying his beautiful and virtuous fiance.  His life irrevocably changes course when he is framed for a crime he didn't commit and is thrown into prison for fourteen years before he manages to escape.  Upon regaining his freedom, he reinvents himself as the mysterious Count of Monte Cristo and proceeds to take revenge upon the three men responsible for his imprisonment in incredibly intricate and destructive ways. 

This story is a true adventure, full of incredible coincidences and impossible feats scattered all across Italy and France. Dantès goes from being a rather naive young man who believes in the inherent goodness of those around him to being a nineteenth century version of Batman within the first quarter of the novel.  A buried treasure gives him unlimited wealth, and years of imprisonment with a wise tutor gives him the knowledge he needs to become the Count.  He manages to build schemes that are insane in their complexity in order to punish those who wronged him, and watching his enemies get the comeuppance that they so richly deserve is a treat for the reader.

But in the midst of all this fantasy and madness are human truths, and this is why the novel strikes a deeper chord than most adventure stories. While no one could ever replicate the feats that Dantès accomplishes in his quest for revenge, we can all relate to his motivations. Dantès is framed for no other reason beyond the jealousy and ambitions of others.  Danglars is jealous of his professional success, Mondego is jealous of his romantic success, and Villefort sees him as a convenient stepping stone to increase his prestige in society.  Together, the selfishness of these three men create a disaster for Dantès.  Their greed destroys his life.  Who among us hasn't experienced some measure of negativity from others simply because we were successful at something?  Nothing attracts ugliness like a human who is happy.  It's easy to understand Dantès' rage.  It's easy to see the raw unfairness of his situation, connect with his emotions, and cheer him on in his plans...and that's when you start second-guessing your feelings on revenge - because things get real really fast.

Dantès doesn't just make his enemies feel bad or one-up them.  He completely and utterly destroys their lives and the lives of most of their family members.  He ruins them financially, he ruins their reputations, he exposes everything they've done wrong in their whole lives, and he gives them the means to hurt each other, all while managing to remain on the outside of their calamities.  He sets up the dominoes and watches them fall with glee.  Some are murdered, some commit suicide, and some are driven insane.  Eventually, the reader has to stop and ask themselves, is it too much?  Is this all justified?  Has this crossed a line?

Even Dantès himself struggles with the morality of what he has done.  When a child is murdered as a result of his plans, he begins to seriously question his actions.  He has believed for most of the novel that he is acting as an instrument of God and punishing those who deserve it, but now the righteousness of his actions aren't so clear.  Is it right for the children of his enemies, for example, to suffer and die for the sins of their fathers?  The Bible says that they should, but seeing a little boy murdered in front of him casts serious doubt on that idea.  In fact, Dantès has to disguise himself as a tourist and visit his former dungeon cell to drum up enough anger to complete his quest.  He even ends up saving the life of someone he was previously going to let die to assuage some of the guilt he feels.

This question of morality is interesting to consider while reading.  The men who wronged Dantès destroyed his life.  By the time he escaped from prison, they were all fabulously wealthy and successful while Dantès' father had starved to death and his fiance had married someone else.  Dantès lost all of his wealth, his only living family member, the love of his life, and fourteen years.  Does that give him the right to destroy the lives of the men responsible for his misfortunes?  Does anyone have that right?  And if so, will getting this revenge truly make him feel better?  What if he had just taken the treasure and used it to live like a king somewhere far away, or to help others in need?  What was the right thing for Dantès to do?

There are no easy answers to these questions.  Matter of guilt, responsibility and punishment hang over everything that happens in the novel and the reader's initial glee at seeing Dantès' enemies suffer slowly turns into something more complicated as their suffering increases and extends to their wives and children.  Mixed into that jumble of feelings is admiration for the sheer ingenuity of Dantès' actions, pity for the characters that are innocent, and curiosity for what will come next.  It's quite the adventure indeed.

Dumas, in what may be a bit of a cop out, provides a happy ending for Dantès.  He achieves his revenge, helps out some people that were loyal to him, and literally sails off into the sunset with a new love and a new beginning before him.  I question whether he could truly find satisfaction after everything he has done in the course of the novel.  Were I in his place, I think I would struggle to justify my actions in my own head.  However, Edmond Dantès, and Alexandre Dumas, probably, are made of sterner stuff than I.   Maybe it's possible for some people to be completely satisfied with Old Testament style justice, but I think that a more realistic ending would have been at least a little bit darker.

While The Count of Monte Cristo was a long reading experience, it was worth embarking on.  There's a reason that this novel has remained popular across the centuries since it was published.  It's a great story.  Those never go out of style.