I recently finished reading the original Dumas book; everyone's familiar with the broad outline of the story (indeed, the title is sort of the archtype associated with revenge), but given how huge the book is, there's plenty of stuff that people who've only heard about it or read the adaptations wouldn't be familiar with. Indeed, it's nearly 1300 pages long, which I believe makes it the longest work of fiction that I've ever read.
An English professor once related that in the Renaissance genre of revenge tragedy, there were only a few that really examined the toll taken on the revenger (Kyd's "The Spanish Tragedy" and Shakespeare's "Hamlet" being the notable ones), while most simply offered a black-and-white story of wronged men slaying the demons who haunt them. Dumas' story falls into the more complex category. It is perhaps telling that while the novel follows Edmond Dantes' perspective from the beginning to the point where he escapes from prison and finds the treasure that will finance his scheme, as soon as Dantes becomes The Count of Monte Cristo the perspective largely shifts to other characters; Dantes, a young and happy man, becomes something different and less human; the Count is almost automaton-like in his calculations and actions, though, as the story wears on, pricked by resurgent emotions.
Dumas offers a panoply of other characters, generally well-drawn, and absurdly interconnected in the best traditions of the Victorian novel; particularly notable is the oblique sketch of a lesbian couple who ride off into the sunset.
An English professor once related that in the Renaissance genre of revenge tragedy, there were only a few that really examined the toll taken on the revenger (Kyd's "The Spanish Tragedy" and Shakespeare's "Hamlet" being the notable ones), while most simply offered a black-and-white story of wronged men slaying the demons who haunt them. Dumas' story falls into the more complex category. It is perhaps telling that while the novel follows Edmond Dantes' perspective from the beginning to the point where he escapes from prison and finds the treasure that will finance his scheme, as soon as Dantes becomes The Count of Monte Cristo the perspective largely shifts to other characters; Dantes, a young and happy man, becomes something different and less human; the Count is almost automaton-like in his calculations and actions, though, as the story wears on, pricked by resurgent emotions.
Dumas offers a panoply of other characters, generally well-drawn, and absurdly interconnected in the best traditions of the Victorian novel; particularly notable is the oblique sketch of a lesbian couple who ride off into the sunset.
