It's very hard to find people who love books the way I do. Not like "Oh, that was fun!" Or "I didn't like that one!" But full, 100%, balls-to-the-wall investment in a story: a full appreciation of both the good, bad, and gloriously ugly bits of storytelling.
Last summer Ernesto and I went to Dublin for Bloomsday. (He's such a good sport.) It's a day in the city where everyone celebrates James Joyce's novel Ulysses. People are partying, drinking, reading, and talking about books allll daaaay. It's pretty amazing. Very few times in my life have I been to a thing where it was NORMALIZED to be talking about literature, making pretentious jokes about Buck Mulligan, and standing in line to look into a pharmacy because it has a special soap that was mentioned in a book.
But after such literary highs, there are inevitably literary lows, and I was having a hard time getting into any books post-Dublin. I'd read stuff, sure, but the books were like...fine. I also don't like a lot of modern books. Especially the literary ones. It feels like people just write really nicely, run out of steam, then give you an ambiguous ending and hope you connect the dots.
So, after many disappointing books, I went back to my old standbys, one of which is The Three Musketeers. The book is bananas: intrigue, mystery, murder, duels, war, secret love affairs. And on and on. It's so much friggin' fun. Dumas puts the story in fifth gear and slams on the gas. You never know where it's going to go.
I told one of my best friends from college about it (who has requested that in this blog, for anonymity, she be referred to as Countess Fosco…which is baller, tbh), and she suggested that we read one of Dumas' other books together so we could enjoy the chaos alongside each other.
It has been absolutely AMAZING.
We chose The Count of Monte Cristo and, kids, it's a wild ride.
The Countess and I are both literary nerds, and we are in awe of how this book works. It's 1200 pages long, but, never, at any point, are there any boring bits. You just jump from one coocoo saga to another.
There is this amazing thing that Dumas does where a character will enter the narrative and then tell the absolute CRAZIEST story you've ever heard. Oftentimes, you don't even know why you're supposed to care. One particular highlight in Monte Cristo is a moment when an innkeeper tells a twenty-page anecdote about a local bandit. You have never seen this bandit in the story before. You have no idea why the bandit is in the story at all. BUT IT'S A GREAT STORY. And halfway through the story, the person you thought the story was about DIES and you just pick up with another person in the story.
At another point (in another fabulous digression about an orphan), there is a secret love affair, a love child, a Corsican bandit, three murders, and one woman burned alive (so, yes, four murders). That's not even part of the book—it’s just like a tangent to tell you about this one person who doesn't even show up for another hundred pages.
IT'S NUTS.
Every Tuesday for the past two months, Countess Fosco and I have jumped on a call and proclaimed our awe of Alexandre Dumas. It's been a long time since I have had a book I can't put down, much less one from 130 years ago that's over one thousand pages long.
The book became so extreme and unpredictable, that my friend and I started doing bets each week, picking a character or event and then saying where we "thought" things would go.
We were almost never correct.
One character is introduced to the story, comes back in, commits a murder, goes to jail, THEN STILL COMES BACK INTO THE STORY.
Today we have The Last of Us, The White Lotus, and Stranger Things to talk about around the watercooler, but I can't even imagine what it was like in 19th-century France with everyone anxiously waiting for the weekly paper to see the next installment of Monte Cristo. Like, would it be a domestic scene where the Count is talking about poisons? Or is it going to be another "Oh, here is a guy who will tell you the craziest thing you've ever heard in your life about something tangentially related to the plot...for now"? YOU WOULD NEVER KNOW.
Either way, it has been an amazing reminder of why I love books so much in the first place. After years of being taught novels across two degree programs that no one actually likes reading but you're supposed to, it is great to jump back into something that shows no compunction about throwing bandits, betrayal, murder, love children, secret affairs, and war stories together in a story blender and then serving it up sloppy joe style. Then capping it off with narration like:
"On the steps d'Avrigny met the relative whom Villefort had mentioned, an insignificant personage both in the family and in this story, one of those beings who are born to play a purely utilitarian role in the world."
That is alpha writer shiz right there. Like, Reader, don't worry about this guy, he is just here to move the story along. Your old pal, Dumas, doesn’t want you to waste any concern on him—someone will be murdered in two pages who you should worry about.
The Countess and I have even thought about doing a seasonal podcast where we pick a crazy serialized Victorian-era novel and then talk through it week by week. I have vowed against podcasts, but your boy is struggling with creating content for his book coaching business, so it may be a creative necessity. Also, Victorian-era serialized novels include things like bandits, love affairs, demonic possessions, spontaneous combustion, and love children, so it's not a bad thing to build content around.
A few years ago, Countess Fosco convinced me to read The Monk. The plot would take me way too long to recap. Suffice it to say that there is an evil Monk, and the climax is a battle between nuns and townspeople and an actual visit from the devil himself.
To summarize: Monte Cristo is dope. Victorian serialized novels are coocoo roller coasters, and enjoying a crazy serialized story whether on Netflix, HBO, or in a novel format is an amazing way to connect with your friends.
Although this blog’s narrative digression didn't include a love affair or international bandits, I hope it was at least kind of interesting. If not, direct your feedback to the comment box. Next month I can tell you about my buddy Charlie. He was possessed by a demon, killed a nun, then fled to Madagascar, which is where the actual story begins…