The Hunchback of Notre-Dame (Modern Library Classics) (Paperback)

by Victor Hugo (Author), Catherine Liu (Translator), Elizabeth McCracken (Introduction) "Three hundred and forty-eight years, six months, and nineteen days ago, the good people of Paris awoke to the sound of all the bells pealing..." (more)
Key Phrases: public breviary, deaf bell ringer, buona mancia, Dom Claude, Claude Frollo, Pierre Gringoire (more...)

Editorial Reviews

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?What a beautiful thing Notre-Dame is!? ?Gustave Flaubert -- Review

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“What a beautiful thing Notre-Dame is!” —Gustave Flaubert

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Product Details

• Paperback: 512 pages
• Publisher: Modern Library (October 8, 2002)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0679642579
• ISBN-13: 978-0679642572
• Product Dimensions: 8.1 x 5.2 x 1.1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 12.6 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 4.2 out of 5 stars See all reviews (19 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #316,909 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

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Most Helpful Customer Reviews

20 of 20 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Often Imitated: Never Duplicated, August 2, 2003

By	James G. Lipscomb "bookworm" (Marietta, Georgia United States) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

Somebody once wrote that great books inspire great minds. Hugo's novel of the deformed, ugly, despicable Quasimodo is a tale of love, hate, revenge, and of a man <as producer Irving Thalberg remarked>, "God Made Different." The book is too remarkable to put into words. Yes, it's long. Yes, it's difficult to modern readers more used to Danielle Steele and others of that ilk. But "the Hunchback of Notre Dame" earns its mantle as a "classic" because of it's themes, it's timeless tale of love and honor, and it's unforgettable plot and story.

Modern readers want slam-bang climaxes and chases. Modern readers want simple plotting, no charecterization, and little thought or planning.

Hugo defies that, and makes the reader think, makes the reader pause, makes the reader reflect; then Hugo delivers a tale of horror, of humor, of love, and of grand thought and whopping entertainment.

By the way, check out Lon Cheney's silent movie version.

BUT READ THE BOOK FIRST!

7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Larger than Life?, September 25, 2005

By	A. R. Greenlee (Montana, USA) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

Victor Hugo was, among other accomplishments, a dramatist. It shows in this book. He knows how to take his time, how to create background and setting, how to build tension and anticipation. Yet, when the denouement occurs (as several mini-climaxes do before the final one), it does so with shocking or stunning detail, effect, and speed. For all the meandering Hugo does before a climax, he is quite economical when he gets to the end. "Notre Dame" is, despite its length, a nail-biting, page-turning read.

But the dramatist also is evident in another way: dialogue. As has been mentioned by others, the dialogue seems stagey, two-dimensional, over the top (or under the bottom, if you wish). This, apparently, was typical of stage productions in Hugo's day. Claude Frollo, for example, in his last conversation with Esmeralda, is practically unbelievable. But he is not alone: Esmeralda herself stretches our credulity. (For one thing, we are never told why she seemed so sympathetic to Quasimodo on the pillory but repulsed by him in the cathedral.) She immediately falls in love with Phoebus, whom she only meets once briefly, and never changes her feelings, which is to say that she never learns, never grows, never seems aware. And this leads to the oft-repeated, central complaint about this book: the main players are not people; they are symbols, constant and unchanging.

For example, at one point, in describing Quisimodo and Esmeralda, Hugo writes, ". . . there was someting touching about the protection offered by a creature so deformed to one so unfortunate -- one condemned to death saved by Quasimodo. Here were the two extremes of physical and social wretchedness meeting and assisting each other." (Walter J. Cobb translation)

But that, in turn, may be why this long, 19th-century melodrama continues to mesmerize us today. There is something sweeping, larger than life about the story -- and the characters.

Yes, the book is melodramatic. Yes, the main characters tend to be mechanically unswerving, almost frustratingly so. Yes, the dialogue makes you occasionally wince or shake your head. And yet you keep reading -- avidly. At least I did. Why? Partly I read to find out what would happen next. As I said, Hugo has created a genuine cliff-hanger (no pun intended, Frollo). But there is something more. Hugo made me care. How did he do that? How did he make me care about two-dimensional characters?

That may be, ultimately, an unanswerable question. But part of the answer, I think, is that, as with all good larger-than-life stories, myths, or epics, the issues are central to us all. Therefore, we care not just about the characters, but about the issues they represent. When Frollo keeps falling (in more ways than one), we fall (or fear falling) with him. When Esmaralda keeps not seeing, we think of our own blindness, too. When Quasimodo is rejected, we remember the sting we have known or want forever to avoid. And when the king (most believable of all in the book) is heartless, we think of the indifference (instututional, bureaucratic, political, or otherwise) that is all around us still.

And this last observation raises an intriguing question. Why is the king so believable -- and believable in his cold, casual, indifference? Could this question point to a core irony? After all, the melodramatically-unchanging elements in the story reflect one central issue: Fate. Hugo says he wrote this book after finding a single word inscribed on a wall in the cathedral of Notre Dame: "ananke," which is Greek for "fate" (or "necessity"). It is that same word that is inscribed on the wall in Frollo's "secret room" in the cathedral. Are Hugo's characters wooden-like because they are the faces of fate: inevitable, unalterable, and trapped? Could that be why, despite the passion in the plot itself, the tone of the narrator's voice in the story is almost light and detached? Is Hugo saying, "Rage all you want against injustice, but nothing will change because we are all victims of fate"?

As I read, I kept thinking of at least three other authors. I thought of Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter, not because of style or mood, but simply because of a similar plot ingredient: a hypocritical clergy person who leaves a woman in the lurch alone. (And Hugo's woman, unlike Hawthorne's, is entirely innocent! [Perhaps too innocent?]) Some things never change. I also thought of Melville who, in Moby Dick, would offer the reader lengthy asides about whales and whale sperm and such. Hugo does the same with architecture and history. But in both cases, you go along with the detour, happily, because there is something in the energy and relish of the author for the subject that draws you in. And both stories lead to an inevitable but nontheless shocking end. And, finally, I thought of Dickens who is infamous for his highly improbable coincidences of plot. Both Hugo and Dickens have plot elements and characters intersect and reconnect in the most unlikely -- yet satisfying! -- ways, time and again. Their books are like jigsaw puzzles, puzzles which, when completed, create an improbably satisfying picture. In "Notre Dame," for example, we learn more than the movies ever tell about who Quasimodo is and about who Esmarelda is. The connection between the two may be unlikely, but, oh!, how it makes you smile with wonder when you read it. Yet, in "Notre Dame," unlike in so many of Dickens' books, the plot does not resolve pleasantly. Injustice? Or Fate . . . cruel Fate?

5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Best Damsel in Distress Story Ever, July 9, 2003

By	J. B. Barton "Beth Barton" (Saint Petersburg, FL) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

I don't know if the Hunchback was written to illustrate some social wrong - if it was, I didn't catch it. What it is is a well formed, complete and beautifully told tragedy. Archdeacon Claude Frollo starts out as an intelligent and committed scholar who longs for familial love after the death of his parents. He cares for his younger brother and the deformed foundling Quasimodo. Meanwhile, his younger brother holds him in contempt for his weakness of loving him and the townspeople view Quasimodo as some sort of demon in league with the archdeacon. Enter Esmeralda, an enchanting gypsy girl who sings and dances in the square before the cathedral. She captivates his heart and head but somewhere along the line, we find that he does not truly have the capacity to love. He wants only to possess. As he tries alternately to suppress his desires by destroying Esmeralda or possess her by force, the ill-formed and ill-fated Quasimodo does his best to protect her. He is the only character who possesses true love. Even Esmeralda's "husband" is more interested in her goat!

This is well worth the read. You will laugh and cry, love and hate.