This book is my Vietnam.
After struggling for two years to finish this book since I was gifted it, I have finally conquered this massive 1,700-page saga, and I feel like I’ve climbed Mt. Everest.
I really enjoyed Hugo’s writing style, particularly his scene narration, his commentary on the emotions of his characters, and the way he could grandly magnify even the subtlest feelings and make them feel momentous. Unfortunately, this was mostly true of the parts pertaining to the actual plot.
Because Les Misérables often feels like a cross between a history textbook and a novel, where you have to sit through tangent after tangent before you’re allowed to return to the story. I felt completely lost during many of these sections. There often wasn’t enough context for a non-French or modern reader to understand what exactly the philosophical discussions, political references, or societal quandaries were about.
It was a strange reading experience: this author gave me goosebumps in multiple scenes while also causing massive irritation whenever yet another seemingly endless tangent began.
Still, I’m glad I finished it. If nothing else, conquering this monster has given me the confidence to take on other enormous tomes.
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