![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() It was an unforgettable foray into the depths of humanity at both its most angelic and most depraved. Ultimately, I’m glad that I took this long journey. I’ve been promising myself to read the book ever since, but its sheer volume (1,000+ pages) and my first experience with Hugo (the slog through the digression that is known as Hunchback of Notre Dame, which is entirely more about the architecture of Notre Dame than the fate of the hunchback) kept me from approaching the task until now. I saw Hugo’s story represented in a movie, which stayed mostly true to the overarching story fifteen odd years later, I still remember the closing scene, the gut wrenching desire to cry, and the commentary on a “justice system” turned intolerably cruel. I first encountered Les Miserables as a child right on the cusp of adulthood, although I was ultimately more inclined to childish things than the new world opening up to me. Spawning numerous plays and movies, as well as countless adaptations and abridgements, Hugo’s story survives not because of its perfection but because of its uncompromising power. Les Miserables has long been a staple of our shared narrative – an epic story of heroism and villainy and all the shades of desperation and hopelessness that lie in between. ![]()
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