Snowflake Challenge: day 14
Jan. 29th, 2026 08:59 pm
Create a promo and/or rec list for someone new to a fandom
Well, I was enthusing about The Count of Monte Cristo the other day, so I shall expand on that a bit. (Also see 2019 post here.
It's a French novel (original title: Le Comte de Monte Cristo) by Alexandre Dumas (père), first published in serial form from 1844-46 and then as a complete novel in 1846. (There were two Alexandre Dumas, father and son. The father is most famous for The Three Musketeers and the son is most famous for The Lady of the Camellias.)
The first part of the book stars too-good-to-be-true sailor Edmond Dantès, who is framed for a crime of which he is, obviously, innocent, and imprisoned in an island prison just outside Marseille. There he encounters the Abbé Faria, who knows where to find some hidden treasure on another island, tiny Monte Cristo, if only he could get free... Well, he can't, but Edmond is younger and stronger and has a much better chance.
The rest of the book follows the consequences - for Edmond (who has restyled himself as Count of Monte Cristo), and for the three men who stitched him up, and for their nearest and dearest. (Edmond has been in prison for a while, and they've all done rather well for themselves - implausibly so, in some cases.) They take a while to work themselves out, but they're very satisfying even as they're somewhat horrifying. It's revenge with an unlimited budget, and then having to come to terms with what that does to a person. (If absolute power corrupts absolutely, then unlimited revenge... erm. Anyway.)
I love the melodrama. I love the Gothic vibe. I love the canon lesbians (Eugénie, the daughter of one of the three villains and an impoverished friend who sings opera with her) who get a happy ending under their own author's nose. I love the background detail, Parisian society, the faint odour of decadence.
Warnings: the dodgy opinions you'd expect for 1846. Alexandre Dumas was in fact Black, but this doesn't stop him going unfortunately Orientalist in places.
Also note that it's very long - about 1200 pages in my edition. This is a plus for me: I read it in difficult times and by the time I get to the end something will have changed somewhere. It's worth being careful about the translation, as some of the older ones are also bowdlerisations and lose vital Eugénie bits. Which is a travesty.