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I am STILL reading Les Miserables. I'm nearly seven hundred pages in, which is a little over halfway through. I've been reading for about a week and a half, and I'm just going to go right ahead and toot my own horn here - it is extremely unusual for it to take me so long to read as much as I've read. I don't spend as much time reading as I used to, but I can still blow through a five-hundred page novel in a couple days if I've got the time and motivation to do it. But there's no blowing through Les Mis. There just isn't. It constantly requires me to slow down, to go back, sometimes because I'm not sure I read something right, sometimes because Hugo's sentences tend to involve about sixteen commas when he's really worked up, and sometimes just because I particularly liked something and want to read it again. It doesn't require the level of attention that, say, Shakespeare needs, but it's not just a book, either. It's eating my brain and I keep talking about it because I need to process it somehow. It's exhausting and exciting, and I know how this sounds, but I kind of understand why people call it life-changing. This is not a casual reading experience.
Of course, because I am me, I also have to point out that it is completely ridiculous. When last we met, I was gleefully expounding upon Valjean's daring escape from the courtroom following his confession via the simple expedient of walking out while people stared at him slack-jawed. Since then, he has scaled a fifteen-foot wall with his bare hands and almost been buried alive. And those are only a couple of the highlights. I don't want to give EVERYTHING away.
But let us not forget Javert! His superpowers are even cooler. Check it out:
Thenardier took hold of the pistol and aimed it at Javert. Javert, who was only three feet away, looked him steadily in the eye and merely said: "Don't shoot, please! You'll miss."
Thenardier pulled the trigger. He missed.
"What did I tell you!" said Javert.
Sure, Valjean is alarmingly strong and can climb walls with his bare hands, but Javert can dodge bullets from three feet away without moving. RIDICULOUS. I may be a little bit in love with Victor Hugo for so brazenly putting that in there, without any explanation whatsoever.
And of course, heightening the COMPLETE INSANITY of the plot are the constant digressions, where Hugo is mostly quite seriously discussing his philosophical beliefs or offering a detailed history lesson. The section following Javert the Supercop, for example, is thirty pages about a revolution in 1830 that didn't quite happen. Valjean's exploits in wall-climbing and near-death by burial are broken up by twenty pages of history on a (fictional, but only because Hugo decided not to use a real one for fear of causing offense) convent, followed by another ten on the evils of convents. The total clash between crazed melodrama and Srs Bzns just makes everything so much more amazing. Yes, they complement each other thematically as well, and the digressions always provide background and color that, even if they don't directly relate to the plot, still support and flesh out the story. But. Also hilarity. And I'm pretty sure Hugo is in on the joke.
I love this book so hard.
Of course, because I am me, I also have to point out that it is completely ridiculous. When last we met, I was gleefully expounding upon Valjean's daring escape from the courtroom following his confession via the simple expedient of walking out while people stared at him slack-jawed. Since then, he has scaled a fifteen-foot wall with his bare hands and almost been buried alive. And those are only a couple of the highlights. I don't want to give EVERYTHING away.
But let us not forget Javert! His superpowers are even cooler. Check it out:
Thenardier took hold of the pistol and aimed it at Javert. Javert, who was only three feet away, looked him steadily in the eye and merely said: "Don't shoot, please! You'll miss."
Thenardier pulled the trigger. He missed.
"What did I tell you!" said Javert.
Sure, Valjean is alarmingly strong and can climb walls with his bare hands, but Javert can dodge bullets from three feet away without moving. RIDICULOUS. I may be a little bit in love with Victor Hugo for so brazenly putting that in there, without any explanation whatsoever.
And of course, heightening the COMPLETE INSANITY of the plot are the constant digressions, where Hugo is mostly quite seriously discussing his philosophical beliefs or offering a detailed history lesson. The section following Javert the Supercop, for example, is thirty pages about a revolution in 1830 that didn't quite happen. Valjean's exploits in wall-climbing and near-death by burial are broken up by twenty pages of history on a (fictional, but only because Hugo decided not to use a real one for fear of causing offense) convent, followed by another ten on the evils of convents. The total clash between crazed melodrama and Srs Bzns just makes everything so much more amazing. Yes, they complement each other thematically as well, and the digressions always provide background and color that, even if they don't directly relate to the plot, still support and flesh out the story. But. Also hilarity. And I'm pretty sure Hugo is in on the joke.
I love this book so hard.
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I still need a Russian things icon.
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Oh btw I have a bunch of Stephen King books my mom picked up during a library sale, but they're duplicates. You want any?
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No, thanks. I just need to refind my copy of The Stand and I'm good.
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(I cannot recall if you are familiar with Buffy or not, but just in case, I shall translate this bit of Buffyspeak: "Wig" means "scare.")
Yes, you should definitely read it. I'm reading the most recent translation by Julie Rose, and and I find it to be very accessible. I just got into the musical a few weeks ago, and became intrigued by the book while doing some Wiki-ing, and so had to read it. In spite of things like Valjean's mighty wall-climbing and Javert the Telekinetic Supercop, it does tend to make more sense. I keep going, "Oh, so THAT'S why that happened."
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What are the chances Javert was referring to a severely unsteady hand holding the gun when he said, "You'll miss?"
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I just think it's funnier to declare Javert to be a Telekinetic Supercop. :D
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....no like really HAHAHAAA WTF HUGO?! Amazing.
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Thénardier: *has Javert at gunpoint*
Javert: Don't bother, the gun will jam.
Thénardier: *bothers*
The Gun: *jams*
Javert: Told you so.
Javert can break guns just by glaring at them?
And oh, Hugo is totally in on the joke, which somehow doesn't prevent him from being utterly serious at the same time. Nobody could've blithely continued writing about "That mysterious white-haired guy who had a young lady tagging along with him OH GOSH WHO COULD IT BE" if he hadn't been secretly laughing into his beard.
The Gorbeau house robbery is probably the most convoluted set of coincidences, but wait till you see how Valjean finds out Cosette's got a boyfriend. Or Eponine's crazy-ass machinations that end up sending Marius and Valjean to the barricade for no good reason except that Eponine is a jealous sack of crazy.
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That is also excellent, because either way I get to crack wise about Javert the Telekinetic Supercop. Javert's awesome just increases exponentially with each appearance. It makes me so happy.
Language is so imprecise - I took Spanish for a few semesters and have found myself laughing at bad translations and unable to entirely explain the joke. And I'm taking a class this semester about the formation of Nicaraguan sign language, and some of the discussions have left me wondering how we manage to communicate with each other at all. I'm already thinking of having a look at other translations of Les Mis, partly because I am a completist dork and partly because language in all its craziness just fascinates me.
When I realized the coincidences and contrivances were piling up, I very briefly had my doubts, because that sort of thing is exactly why I hated A Tale of Two Cities SO MUCH when I read it in high school. But I kept at it, because the difference (as I recall, anyway, it has been many years since my sophomore year in high school) is that Hugo explains himself thoroughly and Dickens
suckskinda doesn't. Hugo's intelligence and sense of humor are on display from page one ("Okay, first, I'm gonna tell you about a bunch of stuff that has nothing to do with anything. *insert fifty pages on the Bishop of Digne*" Oh god, how I laughed), and it was somewhere around the climbing of the convent wall that I realized he was totally doing it on purpose. It is impossible to accept that it could be otherwise, and that even more than his careful explanations is what lets me just chill out and go with it when normally I'd be throwing the book at the wall (and making a sizable dent).It's also why I feel perfectly comfortable making merciless fun of it. That's kind of what I do as a fan. I can go from mockery to serious meta discussion and vice versa without blinking, and both are done out of love, but the mockery part is always more fun when I've gotten the impression that the creator has/would give his blessing.
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It's also why I feel perfectly comfortable making merciless fun of it. That's kind of what I do as a fan. I can go from mockery to serious meta discussion and vice versa without blinking, and both are done out of love, but the mockery part is always more fun when I've gotten the impression that the creator has/would give his blessing.
Oh, that's the most fun of all. Over on Abaissé (http://abaisse.eta-carinae.net) we have a forty-page thread about whether Enjolras should be top or bottom in slash, which tends to swing wildly back and forth between "hee hee buttsex" and serious discussion of gender roles in fandom and the 19th century.
One also gets the impression that Hugo does the exact same thing. Wasn't there a scene right before Valjean was about to get smuggled out of the convent in a coffin, and it was ridiculously convoluted and dramatic and Full Of Symbolism, and the Mother Superior kept getting Fauchelevent's name wrong? Or the night Marius finally finds Cosette and it's this Huge Romantic Moment and they're both swooning into each other's arms, and Hugo takes the time to note that Marius is acting like a total dweeb and he lost his hat in the bushes somewhere, but both of them are too starry-eyed to notice.
Also, going off on a slight tangent, I love his endless thickets of details and allusions and lists. Especially in completely irrelevant-seeming chapters like "In the Year 1817," which is like Hugo's little reminder that history is made out of a bunch of irrelevant, unrelated-looking details. It reminds me of a Neil Gaiman short story: "One describes a tale best by telling the tale. You see? The way one describes a story, to oneself or to the world, is by telling the story. It is a balancing act and it is a dream. The more accurate the map, the more it resembles the territory. The most accurate map possible would be the territory, and thus would be perfectly accurate and perfectly useless. The tale is the map that is the territory; you must remember this."
(Sorry for being pretentious, I just got back from class. XD)
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This never fails to crack me up. I won't lie, I find the digressions to be a slog sometimes - they don't allow me to read as quickly as I'm accustomed to, because if I try I get lost in no time, so it gets tiring and occasionally I just want to put my head on the book and take a nap. But then Hugo will be like, "Anyway, I'm almost done," and my response is invariably, "You are such a liar," but I also laugh and keep going. It helps.
Wasn't there a scene right before Valjean was about to get smuggled out of the convent in a coffin, and it was ridiculously convoluted and dramatic and Full Of Symbolism, and the Mother Superior kept getting Fauchelevent's name wrong?
*checks book* Yes! It starts with her trying to explain that they are going to break the law without actually saying it, and then she goes into this rant that seems to involve a bunch of names, and mostly it seems like she's trying to justify an action she's not comfortable about. (Hee, lying nuns just keep foiling Javert!) I wasn't paying much attention to that, though, because I was busy going, "Oh my god, now he's going to bury Valjean alive. I did not know I was signing on for a soap opera when I ordered this book."
And I love how he has no problem sending Marius up for being SUCH A DORK. I am a very, very hard sell on romance stories, and the older the story the more it tends to annoy me. So, while Marius was sneaking around the park being a stalker, I was just settling in with the eyerolling all, "I can't believe I'm supposed to take this seriously," and then there was the HANDKERCHIEF and I sat there and giggled for a solid minute and a half before I could keep reading. I would hate Marius so much by now if Hugo tried to present him in total seriousness, because that kind of character can get very old very quickly, but having a little bit of fun at his expense makes all the difference.
Especially in completely irrelevant-seeming chapters like "In the Year 1817," which is like Hugo's little reminder that history is made out of a bunch of irrelevant, unrelated-looking details.
I thought that chapter was really cool. It made me think about how many things get lost about every year, and even things that are so important at the time just vanish into the ether. For every event that goes down in the history books, how many disappear? A friend of mine is doing her thesis on the Rwandan genocide, and she wrote a long, detailed post about it because there are so many people who don't really know what happened, and she still said that she was simplifying so much and leaving a lot out.
Despite my comments above, I do enjoy a lot of the digressions - a story's a story, and quite a few of them happen to focus on the sorts of things that interest me. It reminds me of the way I used to read when I was younger, with a fascination for everyday details that I don't quite have as strongly as I once did. There are a couple of sections that I think I would have enjoyed when I was ten nearly as much as I do now, old-fashioned language and all. In some ways, maybe even more.
The Gaiman quote actually makes me think of translations of novels, and how easy it is for them to go so badly. I think part of the reason it took so long for Les Mis to show up on my literary radar is because I just don't like reading translations. The ones I have tried tend to feel detached, and it is like looking at a map I can tell isn't quite right. I was very deliberate in choosing Julie Rose's translation, because what I read about it made it sound like that layer of detachment wouldn't be a problem, and I was right. It has its quirks, but I have never once felt like I was being told about the story rather than being told the story, and that's very important to me.
(No worries about being pretentious, dude, I'm an English major. Pretentiousness, both hearing and expressing it, is my JOB. XD )
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One of the strange and lovely things about Hugo's sense of humor is that even when he's poking his own characters (and elaborate setups) in the ribs, it somehow increases one's liking for them instead of making them look stupid. Especially something like the romance, which made me gag in the musical, but somehow when Hugo lets Marius be ridiculous it makes me more inclined to take the romance semi-seriously and go "aww, that's adorable." (Because obviously there is nothing more adorable than having your stalker turn up in your garden one night, hatless and covered in brambles, and start babbling about how he hopes he hasn't been too much of a pain in the ass.)
Actually there has been a trend lately, in recent productions of the musical, to take Hugo's approach in "A Heart Full of Love." One had Marius bursting into the garden going "A heaaaart fuuuuulll of loooove!" in full cheesy-romance mode, and then Cosette makes this "O_O OMG!" face and Marius facepalms, tries to get his clothing back in order, and tries again with "A heart full of... um... song?" It makes the scene so much less vomit-inducing.
I don't remember the title of the "One describes a tale best by telling the tale" story, but it involved an emperor commissioning increasingly detailed and accurate maps of his country that get increasingly bigger, until they end up covering the whole country. I wasn't a huge fan of some of the other short stories in that collection, but that one made me really happy.
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It makes the scene so much less vomit-inducing.
That's so awesome. I had so much trouble with that when I first listened to the full musical a few weeks ago. "Wait, they're pulling the across-the-crowded room shit? One look and et cetera? Oh god. I cannot even." It's like a handy encapsulation of everything I hate about romance stories. Anything that lightens it up a little is good by me.
I've also been listening to the musical pretty much on a loop while I walk or take the bus or what-have-you; I have this tendency to get stuck on one thing for MONTHS. I spent the entire summer listening to a political satire musical called The Fix, and managed to set it aside for Les Mis only because I really wanted to hear Philip Quast (who is brilliant in The Fix and I highly recommend it if you are at all curious about his other work) sing another role. (Well, also, I promised a friend I'd listen to it, but Quast was the reason I had a copy handy at all.) (It's the TAC. Though there is a copy of the CSR heading in my direction.) And yes, I always have these really convoluted stories about how I discover things. It's never just, "I thought it sounded cool." There's always a paragraph involved. XD Uh, and a lot of parentheses, sorry about that.
I don't remember the title of the "One describes a tale best by telling the tale" story
You know, I don't think it had a title. I think it was a story he sort of randomly started telling in the introduction. As he does. I never actually finished that collection, but that quote from it stuck with me enough to recognize it when you used it.