Reviews for The Hunchback of Notre Dame

The average rating for The Hunchback of Notre Dame based on 2 reviews is 5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2013-04-11 00:00:00 Allan Jones I recently read Victor Hugo's Notre Dame de Paris for the first time, and was delighted and moved by the experience. Although it lacks the depth and humanity of Les Miserables, it possesses a grandeur of architectonic structure and an Olympian compassion all its own. Best of all, it gives us one of literature's most loving and detailed depictions of a city, rivaled only by Joyce's Dublin in Ulysses. It is a shame that this book is so seldom referred to in English by its given name, for it is about more than the history of one hunchback, however moving that history may be. First of all, it is about the great cathedral that dominates and defines the city, the setting for much of the novel's action and most of its crucial events. It is also about the �genius loci� of Paris, the maternal spirit that offers sanctuary and support to its most unfortunate children, many of them literally orphans (Gringoire, Quasimodo, Esmeralda, the Frollos), be they ugly or beautiful, virtuous or evil, bringing a measure of comfort to their difficult and and often tragic lives. Hugo's novel had been on my lengthy �must read� list for years, but what finally moved it to the top was my growing fascination with cities in literature. In childhood, my favorite Arabian Night's tales were the ones that took place in Baghdad, and from early adolescence I loved Sherlock Holmes' London, D'Artagnan's Paris and Nero Wolfe's New York. I also began to appreciate more fantastic cities, such as Stevenson and Machen's London and Leiber's Lankhmar. Soon I fell in love with the hard boiled detective genre and�having been a childhood fan of Arthurian romances�identified with each of these modern knight-errants on a quest. I also realized that the individuality of each city�and the private detective's familiarity with it and his relation to it--was an essential part of the genre's charm. Even the most realistic of private eye cities�Robert B. Parker's Boston, for example�were filled with as many marvels as any Arthurian Romance: instead of a sorceress, one might meet a sexy widow; instead of a liveried dwarf, a mysterious butler; and instead of a disguised knight offering a cryptic challenge one might be offered a tailing job by a Beacon Hill Brahmin with a mask of smiles and hidden motivations. The world of the marvelous had been transported from the isolated castles, woods and meadows of England's �green and pleasant land� to the magnificent townhouses and seedy alleys of an urban environment. How had this occurred, and what were the literary antecedents? I believe that Notre Dame de Paris in 1831 is the point where this all begins. Hugo took a shoot of the delicate gothic already in decline, grafted it to the hearty root of the city (or--more precisely--to a Gothic cathedral in the center of a great city, where it was most likely to flourish), watered it from the oasis of Arabian marvels (dangerous hunchback, guild of thieves, beautiful dancing girl), and cultivated the resulting growth with the historical method of Sir Walter Scott. Thus the urban romance was born. This was just the start, of course. Another decade of industrialism and population growth would make the great European cities seem even more like ancient Baghdad. Dickens would make the thieves guild central to the sinister London of Oliver Twist and Eugene Sue's exploration of urban vices in The Mysteries of Paris (1841) would soon be successfully imitated--commercially if not artistically�by England's Reynolds in The Mysteries of London and America's Lippard in The Quaker City, or The Monks of Monk's Hall. A little later the detective arrived in the gothic city (Poe's DuPont, Gaboriau's Lecoq, Conan Doyle's Holmes) and soon the marvelous and fantastic were re-introduced (Stevenson's New Arabian Nights, Machen's The Three Imposters) as well, fully preparing the urban landscape for the writers of the 20th century to construct their cities of romance in the worlds of detection and fantasy. Hugo tells us that the bones of Quasimodo and Esmeralda have long ago turned to dust, but the marvelous city of crimes and dreams continues to live on.

Review # 2 was written on 2008-01-23 00:00:00 Michael Schall I have officially been wooed by nineteenth century French literature. First Dumas and now this. I just finished reading Victor Hugo�s The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, and it was fantastic. The characters, the themes, the literary structures� Ahhh� *swoons* Before I proclaim my love affair with Victor Hugo, I have to mention some negatives. First off: very, very difficult book to get into. I struggled through at least the first hundred pages, and I�m not that hard to please. Secondly, up until this point, I had always thought that abridged novels were ridiculous. How could the editors take parts out and still have the story make sense? Upon reading unabridged Hugo, I understand. The man had complete chapters devoted to discussing the history of Paris or the history of the cathedral, and while I admit that it was a clever way to show off his knowledge and spread his political ideals, it was not what I bargained for. The novel would have been more accurately titled �The Archdeacon of Notre Dame.� (Frollo was not a judge as in the Disney movie. They just tried to secularize him to an equivalent position.) I argue that Frollo was the protagonist. The story spent most of its time with him: his internal struggle, his plotting. And his character was fantastic! He was underhanded, but I pitied him. He was pathetic, but I feared him. He did evil, but I loved him. Frollo was not simply a powerful villain; he was a dynamic, complex character that, at times, the reader could really sympathize with. The other characters in the novel were equally impressive. Esmeralda�s sweet, strong innocence (she was only sixteen) and foolish devotion to Phoebus is heart wrenching. Quasimodo�s strength of body and heart is awe-inspiring. Phoebus� selfish arrogance is antagonizing. The minor characters, from the old heckling woman, to the foolish young Frollo (the Archdeacon�s brother), to the rambling philosopher, create a motley portrait of a fascinating world. Hugo�s occasional comments on society cannot go unnoted. I especially enjoyed one episode where Quasimodo was being questioned in court. In the novel, unlike in the Disney movie, Quasimodo is deaf, so, as he is being questioned, he tries to anticipate the judge�s questions and answer them accordingly. The irony is that the judge was doing the same thing. Hugo created a deaf judge. Beautiful. Anyway, a funny scene ensued, and Hugo made his point. The best part of the story (maybe, there were just so many good ones) was likely Hugo�s portrayal of love. Love was everywhere: the inexplicable love Frollo had for his useless brother, the love that caused Frollo to accept Quasimodo, the love that broke a mother�s heart at the loss of her daughter, the faithful love that sent Quasimodo to Frollo with his tail between his legs� But the most stunning and provocative of all was the comparison of the three men who �loved� Esmeralda: one man, �loving� her so much that he wanted to possess her; one man, �loving� her for the moment, until another girl came along; and one man �loving� her so much that she went before everything: before his desire to be with her, before his desire to have her, before his own desire to live. *swoons again* Awesome book� When I started reading it, everyone felt the need to warn me that it didn�t end like the Disney movie. I was afraid. I was scared that after stringing me along, Hugo was going to kill it at the end. Don�t worry: he doesn�t. The end is moving and beautiful and fitting and so what if it�s not Disney: it�s great. And, to further please the happy reader, there were a million good quotes. Here you go: �Oh, love!... That is to be two, and yet one. A man and a woman joined, as into an ange; that is heaven!� (Esmeralda). �Great edifices, like great mountains, are the work of the ages.� �He found that man needs affection, that life without a warming love is but a dry wheel, creaking and grating as it turns.� �Alas! The small thing shall bring down the great things; a tooth triumphs over a whole carcass. The rat of the Nile destroys the crocodile, the swordfish kills the whale; the book will kill the edifice� (Frollo). �It is to this setting sun that we look for a new dawn.� �Spira, spera.� (�Breathe, hope.�) �For love is like a tree; it grows of itself; it send its roots deep into our being, and often continues to grow green over a heart in ruins.� �What man orders� Circumstances disorder� (Frollo). �Everyone knows that great wealth is not acquired by letters, and that the most accomplished writers have not always a warm hearth in wintertime. The lawyers take all the wheat for themselves and leave nothing by chaff for the other learned professions� (Gringoire, the philosopher). �A lighted candle never attracts one gnat only.� �That�s life� It�s often our best friends who make us fall� (Gringoire). �The human voice is music to the human ear.� Just a wonderful sample of the jewels contained in The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. The novel was difficult, but well worth the effort. I�m just sitting here in awe of it. I can�t write any more.