Initial Thoughts On Les Misérables

A brief comment on the work, as I take it up daily to delve into the world of nineteenth century France: it is remarkable to read for many reasons, one of which is Hugo's treatment of humans as persons. He is deeply interested in the lives of the characters, sparing the reader no detail of their lives, no matter how small. His project seems almost round, as he takes pains to fill out the various details with short episodes organized into larger books by character; for instance, when describing the good Bishop, Hugo offers episodes ranging from describing the Bishop's frugality ("How Monseigneur Bienvenu Made His Cassock Last so Long") to showing us a rather private conversation of his with an old atheist ex-Revolutionary ("The Bishop in the Presence of an Unknown Light"). Hugo does the same with Jean Valjean, as he is introduced, and now with Fantine, who I am just beginning to read about. The lives of each are simultaneously treated systematically and haphazardly; Hugo organizes the book by character but seems to weave them together quite seamlessly, traveling from one to the other without apology or announcement.

Every character is a person to Hugo. Environment takes its toll on each character--indeed, this seems to be a subject with which Hugo is very preoccupied--but they are not mere products of the environment they dwell in. Hugo remarks on Jean Valjean's poverty, but does not omit his penitence. As I turn page after page, the genius of the structure becomes more apparent--of course he must begin with the Bishop, for it is through the Bishop's lens that Hugo views each character: with compassion and charity, not regarding his own discomfort in meeting them but solely their good.

A daunting task indeed, to read such a comprehensive treatment of human nature. And Hugo's method of describing his characters is distinct--it doesn't quite resemble the propriety of Austen, nor the wild intensity of Bronte (or so I've been told), nor even the methodical style of Dickens. It is distinct in its balance, matter-of-fact yet pulsing with life. The prose is arresting, and thus worthy of its content.