to love another person is to see the face of God

Victor Hugo's Les Miserables. This piece of literature holds a dear place in my heart, so I was so thrilled that 5minutesforbooks had chosen it to be a part of their Classics Bookclub this month. I have this unabridged copy, which according to a reviewer from The Times of London is inarguably the translation to read. It comes in at a whopping 1260 pages, and could make a really sturdy doorstop. For a door subjected to strong wind gusts. Lovely hubby bought this copy for me many years ago, when I wanted to read Hugo's classic again. When I pulled it off the shelf for this 3rd reading, I was prepared for it to take me some time, but I have to admit that I haven't even gotten through the whole of the first book as of now, when the review is scheduled to be posted. Life has seemed to get in the way of my really focusing and reading this again, but, fear not, even with my legendarily terrible memory, this is a story that will remain in my heart forever. Even as the details have faded, the feeling of this book is as fresh as the first time I read it.

Oh, that first time. I was still in college, and lovely hubby (lovely fiance back then) had lent me his CD set of the complete recording- performed by 50 artists from productions all over the world. This was my introduction to the story, because we were going to see the play in DC when I came down here for a visit. I remember listening to the CD's before knowing a single thing about the story-- just putting it on in the background while I cleaned my dorm room and did homework, and suddenly finding myself crying and crying. I honestly didn't know why, but I felt so moved by the music, as cheesy as that sounds. Well, I knew then and there that I needed to know this story.

So, I went to my little college's library and checked out their holding-- it was actually 5 separately bound books, and they were little and just beautiful. They were numbered copies (oh how I wish I remember-- but something under a total of 125 or so) printed in the 1920's. The distinctive old book smell was there, and I spent many consecutive nights holed up in my dorm room reading until the wee hours of the morning. I believe there was even a night that I didn't go to sleep at all... just read all night, then went in the shower and hauled a very tired butt to class. The best part? This was absolutely unbelievable to me at the time, but there were several points in these little books when I got to pages that had never been cut. Honestly. I so carefully tore down the edges of those pages, reveling in the knowledge that my eyes were the first ones to ever take in those exact printed words. It was probably more out of my lack of conniving than my sense of right and wrong that I didn't try to keep those books. It broke my heart to return them to the library. The desire to own those books is still so freaking palpable these 13 years later. Oh.

Okay, back to the Classics Bookclub. Jennifer posted some excellent discussion questions for us to consider in the preview-- tackle all of those, and I think you'll be eligible for some college literature course credits. I've thought a lot over the years about the character of Javert. The first time that I saw the show here in DC, I was filled with seething anger at him-- how could he so blindly pursue justice without any deeper thought about what is actually right? Oh my. When I read the book after watching the production for the first time, I still held onto that rage against Javert, that extreme disgust toward his treatment of Valjean. It was overwhelming.

And then. Then I saw it in NY on Broadway from the literal second-to-last row in the house. And then again in Baltimore. And then came the second reading. Followed by our last viewing of a travel production in DC in 2006. During that time, my perspective has morphed. Where I formerly held something bordering on hatred for his character, I can now only feel sympathy and sadness. His struggle is arguably as difficult as Valjean's, only he doesn't get to experience a full reflective awareness of his internal despair until it is too late. When Valjean was at his point of no return-- make a decision, one way or another-- he could equally envision himself going either way. So he made a choice. So much could be discussed here about why he made the choice that he did, but that's not where I'm going. Take this scenario in Javert's situation, and the saddest thing is that even though there is a part of him that realizes the beauty and justice-in-the-greatest-sense of Valjean's actions, he simply cannot change his course. He cannot undo his sense of lawfulness and black-and-white, right-and-wrong view of the world. He wouldn't know how to live, what to pursue. For that, I cry for Javert as I read this book, as I listen to the music from the stage production. For that, Javert holds as significant a place in my heart as Valjean.

Getting back to my book now,