Customer Reviews

The Hunchback of Notre-Dame (Modern Library Classics)

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4 star:		(5)
3 star:		(1)
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1 star:		(3)

 

 

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!

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?

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.

I very highly recommend this story. This book is beautiful. It is written lyrically and the message it paints is utterly tragic. The characters, the plot, the meaning, everything about this story is wonderful. Quasimodo 's humiliaty and sadness is absolutely heartbreaking as the story unfolds through a variety of character's eyes. Gringoire, Esmeralda, Frollo, Jehan, Quasimodo, The Satchette, and Phoebus being a few. Victor Hugo is ingenious as he tells this story of woe and tragedy. From reading this I laughed, I cried, and I felt like I wanted to strangle some of the character's for their ignorance: this book is in every way very human in its mentality.

To be honest: it's a hard book to read, not hard in its writing, but in its meaning. Be prepared to be disturbed by it.

Do not go into the book assuming that it is like the Disney movie. Disney heavily basically cut every bit of violence, sexuality, and heart break that this story shows. Disney didn't ruin the story: it merely made it its own story using the same characters names and an entirely different idea and ending. This book is a tear-jerker by the end, but it is worth every minute of your time.

An excellent, very readable translation of the UNCUT original, revealing it to be a lot more panoramic than I expected, a much broader look at the city of Paris, its physical presence, and all the people who inhabited it in Victor Hugo's time, and not focused so exclusively on the one familiar title character - a title which was not Hugo's own, but was applied to the first English translation by the publisher; Hugo titled his work "Notre-Dame de Paris". The introduction is lucid and passionate, and for scholars, there are extensive explanations of Hugo's topical references at the end of the book.

Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Norte Dame is majestic in its descriptions of the medieval settings within France, albeit at times it becomes a bit lengthy and tedious when wanting to get to the next segment of the story. For instance, there is approximately a 30 page description of the interior cathedral of Notre Dame and the surrounding areas. While this introduces us to some of the background of Paris' settings, it is a bit cumbersome to get through. Overall, however, Hugo's ability to bring characters-their faults, personalities, weaknesses, and human emotions-to life certainly makes this a great work of fiction.

The main characters within the novel are Quasimodo, a deformed hunchback with only one eye: many of the people associate him with evil because of his deformities, yet he represents both good characteristics as well. Claude Frollo is the archbishop who looks over and cares for Quasimodo at the Norte Dame cathedral. Frollo is a tragic character mainly because of his fall from grace, from good to bad because of his own desires and his own resistance into temptation, he slowly fades and loses grip with humanity and goodness. Esmeralda is a gypsy dancer that captivates the attention of many of the people in the city, both for good and sinister reasons. She owns a goat, Dhali, and her and her pet become an issue to the people who view gypsies as being evil, especially because of her goat's ability to do "magic" tricks. Lastly, there is Phoebus, a man who Esmeralda becomes enchanted with after he saves her from peril. Although handsome, he is more materialistic and shallow.

For the most part the story was compelling, and the pace of the story really picks up towards the end of the novel. If you go into the novel expecting it to be like the films that have attempted to portray the story of Quasimodo, you may be surprised and/or disappointed. Hugo's knack is to write a novel with great emotion and to depict a true vision of human tendencies and behaviors, yet this novel is definitely somber in tone and many of the events in the book are different from the popular films. While some may question the coincidences within the novel's plot, this is a work that is magnified and becomes essentially bigger when you take all of its parts and put them together.

'The Hunchback of Notre Dame' is a wonderful story. On the outside, and even after a careless first reading, it may seem like nothing more than an obvious melodrama, a horror classic, or a nineteenth century version of a bodice-ripping potboiler. But it is a deeper, more fulfilling tale than any of those three descriptions suggest. The novel achieves the power of tragedy through its titular character, Quasimodo, the hunchback.

That's not to say, however, that there aren't points of obvious melodrama. There's a lot of tearing clothes and long speeches, and if you don't know who the crazy beggar woman is immediately, you've probably been asleep. It's true that you can see most of the plot twists coming, but Hugo works that to his advantage. It makes the tragedy even MORE tragic, because you can see how everyone's fate could've changed for a happy ending, but you can't stop it.

What causes Hugo's novel to be heartbreaking, and to remain fixed in the minds and hearts of readers for hundreds of years, has to be Quasimodo. The only character truly capable of love in the book, he is also the one who remains forever misunderstood, and forever unable to voice his own opinions. (Notre Dame's bells have made him deaf; there's a metaphor in there somewhere.) He's torn between love for the man who is the closest he has to a father, Frollo, and the beautiful gypsy girl Esmarelda. He tries to protect and care for both, and when he is unable to, tragedy ensues.

Hugo describes sixteenth century Paris in loving detail, painting a vivid picture of Notre Dame cathedral and all of its belltowers and buttresses. His characters are all interesting creatures who want to find happiness but are forever screwing themselves up. Hugo makes the good choice of having his characters fuel the tragedy. They aren't just caught in bad circumstances, they make their bad circumstances. (You'll want to kick Esmarelda several times before the end of the book.) Melodrama it may be, but what in nineteenth century literature wasn't? At least it's pretty good melodrama.

Just as you must look past Quasimodo's forbidding appearance to discover his tender heart, so must you look beyond the novel's sensationalist subject matter and occasional emoting and find the meat of the story; the tender tragedy of unrequited love, the destruction of repression and lust, and the impact people's choices have upon others and themselves, all bound up in a fascinating historical drama.

I would have to say it has everything, and is highly readable, which I think is an important recommendation to give potential readers of classic fiction. It is beautiful, simple, filled with humor and compassion. I particularly liked the way Hugo pokes fun at the absurdities of anti-Gypsy prejudice and other social bigotry. Esmerelda's suitor, however, is a terrible selfish jerk in this story, which is far funnier and more believable than the selfless sap he plays in the Disney movie. Altogether an unforgettable read, and an unforgettable character in the Hunchback, who Hugo paints with considerable humanity.

This book is absolutely amazing. I don't know where to start... The characters are all amazingly well developed. This is a story of a Cathedral (Notre Dame de Paris) and how in unites all of the mismatched characters in the tale. It contains a few chapters where there are chapters that have nothing to do with the story, but they add to it-- you can tell how Hugo loved the cathedral. This book is filled with passion and true love and fate.
The musical (Notre Dame de Paris, the original French title) is amazing, too. The Disney movie isn't bad by itself, but it's an entirely different story from the book.

This book is an excellent example of a style of writing that no has really duplicated in past years. How Victor Hugo slyly involves the reader in the story is ingenious.

While the story does have its moments that lack action of any sort, the detailed descriptions of the scenes give you the impression that he was witnessing the events of the book and telling them to you firsthand.

Also the characters are extremely well fleshed out and complicated. They are so engrossing because of their qualities, and made even more interesting because of their faults.

An excellent, tragic read, and made even better if you have traveled to Paris in recent years.