The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

“As I rebuild the WLS archive with books I've read from 2011 through to 2025, I want to build a fully-fledged ecosystem of books I've read and recommend. I'd like to be able to reference and speak to any I've finished. For books I haven't reviewed (or can't entirely remember), please enjoy this brief questionnaire that can help you decide whether it's a read you'd like to pursue. Some of these are favorites I just haven't gotten around to fully reviewing yet—I'll explain in each description, but I hope this Q&A can be illuminating to you in the meantime.”

Alexandre Dumas's epic tale of suffering and retribution, inspired by a real-life case of wrongful imprisonment—nominated as one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read.

Thrown in prison for a crime he has not committed, Edmond Dantes is confined to the grim fortress of If. There he learns of a great hoard of treasure hidden on the Isle of Monte Cristo, and he becomes determined not only to escape, but also to unearth the treasure and use it to plot the destruction of the three men responsible for his incarceration.

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Robin Buss's lively translation is complete and unabridged, and remains faithful to the style of Dumas's original. This edition includes an introduction, explanatory notes, and suggestions for further reading.

Penguin Classics is the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world, representing a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.

Why Did I Read This Book?

I've often considered this book to be my favorite classic, but it'd been years since I first read it. We read it in middle school—complete with a main character map, to keep everyone straight—and I read it again when running a teen book club for classics in high school.

I started the (unabridged) version in September or so, and ended up finishing it between about 1 and 3 A.M. one night when I couldn't sleep. Once I started it, I definitely couldn't stop. It lives up to my memory.

What's This Book About?

The Count of Monte Cristo is potentially the most classic revenge narrative of all time. The Count is the epitome of "revenge is a dish best served cold." He meditates for many years over the best course of action to get his vengeance against the men who were responsible for his wrongful imprisonment—and the loss of his love, life, and father.

When he eventually escapes from jail, he stumbles upon a monetary fortune that allows him to make his wildest dreams come true. His desire? To make them suffer, which will bring his life meaning.

Of course, his revenge brings consequences he didn't expect too.

What Do I Remember Most About It?

Most of the time, I struggle with pacing in classics. Life is just a little more quickly paced nowadays, which means the stringing together of events can sometimes feel a bit disconnected and irrelevant (in the gentlest way possible.) The Count of Monte Cristo skirts around that "classic feel" for that reason, which is why middle schoolers may prefer it versus other works.

This time around, I read the unabridged version—by accident—hence my accidental insomnia. I delved into the thick of it because I had woken up in the middle of the night and wanted to quietly lull myself back, but I made the mistake of picking a pretty engaging plot that went on for a while. Whoops.

The main point, if you pick based on theme, is basically that you cannot reach ultimate joy without ultimate suffering. That meaningful contrast did a lot for me during this phase of life, and resonates with a lot of my patterns in thinking. (Part of the reason I love backpacking, for example, is because of how elevated each simple, material pleasure is when you come back "into civilization." I'm also an extremely grateful person overall.) I tend to be a long game, "grit" person, so the concept automatically makes sense to me.

It's an extremely satisfying narrative to work backwards from. If you look at the (extremely clever) endings of each of his antagonists, you understand how every small bit of action and deceit contributes to his ultimate revenge. Unfortunately, reality itself is not normally that neat. That being said, I do think the entire plot relies on this suspension of reality: the Count needs absolute control over everything, or else his mechanisms would fall apart. We could not, in reality, accurately predict everyone to this extent—but hey, that's why it's an exciting plot.

Similarly, I don't know if I necessarily agree with the Count after seeing him put Maximilien through ultimate grief. It may be for the greater purpose of "making him appreciate what he has," but life will do that to him regardless. Maybe his love would get in an accident or die in childbirth or any number of things, so instituting pointless cruelty of loss onto him...feels pointlessly cruel. Is that not the circle of suffering we've tried to get rid of in pledgeship, generational childhood abuse cycles, etc,.? Just because you've suffered and been stronger for it doesn't mean everyone else has to—but of course, I understand the vengeance and reaction of the instinct. But do we actually think the Count became a better person for it?

Who's It Best for?

I'd definitely recommend the abridged version to kids venturing into the classics for the first time! Don't be afraid to look up a character map, explainers, or resources, etc,.

In adulthood or for a challenge, the unabridged version was great. If you're a reader, add it to your repertoire. Action, intrigue, etc,. It's smart, considered, and easy to devour.

Question for you—what, in your opinion, is the appropriate measure of suffering someone has to go through to get what they want?

Do you look down on people who have suffered less than you, or do you view suffering as a variant phase of life? Do you think suffering automatically equals strength, or do you view strength as what you have control over versus suffering is something you don't have control over and thus cannot serve as your indication of mental resilience? Is what you are what you go through? Just food for thought. I don't know!