1,000+ Pages of Revenge and Hilarity

The Count of Monte Cristo is the best adventure story I've encountered.

Hello! Welcome to Arete & Ink. Please take your time to browse what’s on the brew bar.

New drinks include the ‘Mercédès’, a Spanish cortado with smooth and bittersweet undertones, as well as the ‘The Revenge’, an iced Turkish coffee paired with caramel syrup, a dash of cayenne, and topped with dark chocolate shavings. For the tea connoisseurs, we offer ‘The French Villa’, a lavender tea sweetened by our orange blossom-infused honey, a splash of almond extract, and sprinkled with dried lavender petals to complete the look. This drink is served with shortbread.

Once you’ve ordered, our book club will be reconvening in our usual cozy corner. Take a seat in a leather armchair, settle in, and prepare yourself for our discussion of The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas!

*Since this is a book club meeting to discuss what we are currently reading, there will be spoilers.*

Do you have your drink? What about your pastry? Notebook and pen? Some q’s and discussion points to accompany us on our journey to France and the Mediterranean coast are available at the bottom of this post for those of you who want to go deeper. If you’d prefer to soak it in rather than get analytical, feel free to sit back and relax.

I love the Penguin Clothbounds. The design does fade, but it wears beautifully with your reading. Photo by me.

Featured topics:

1. A brief synopsis

2. Thoughts on the main themes, character arcs, and lastly the luscious atmosphere woven throughout the story

3. A brief soliloquy on revenge, God’s justice, and where Dantès + Job intersect

4. My personal connection to Dumas’ masterpiece

5. Concluding reflections, resources, and questions

Synopsis

At nineteen, Edmond Dantès is on the brink of a promising future in Marseille—set to become a captain, marry his beloved, and support his adored father. However, three jealous men —Caderousse, Danglars, and Fernand (greedy neighbor, jealous first-mate, and romantic rival respectively)—conspire to have him imprisoned in the Château d’If, aided by the corrupt Villefort, who, despite knowing Edmond’s innocence, ensures his fate.

In prison, Edmond meets Abbé Faria, a self-proclaimed millionaire who educates him in history, science, and deductive reasoning, ultimately revealing the betrayal that led to his imprisonment. Upon Faria’s death, Edmond attempts to escape by hiding in the body bag—only to be thrown into the sea. Fortunately, his skills as a sailor save him, and he swims to safety.

Guided by Faria’s secret, Edmond discovers a vast treasure on the island of Monte Cristo. With his new wealth, he reinvents himself, adopting multiple identities, including the enigmatic Count of Monte Cristo. Believed dead, he exacts elaborate vengeance on Caderousse, Danglars, Fernand, and Villefort, seeing himself as an agent of divine justice.

Eventually, Edmond abandons his vengeful path, finding redemption with his new love, Haydée. He leaves his fortune to Morrel Jr. and Valentine Villefort.

Themes, characters, and an unforgettable atmosphere

‘I never wanted this to end!’ When someone gives a book that particular compliment, it sparks an irresistible urge in me to buy it immediately and read straight through to the last page. The Count of Monte Cristo (or TCOMC as hereafter referred to) by Alexandre Dumas could have gone on for another book and I would have been happy to stay in his Paris and Rome. I simply didn’t want to put it down or ever stop reading.

Dumas’ love of action and plot were the main definers. Because of that, I don’t think a personality aficionado would find the people populating TCOMC the most ‘realistic’ of novelic persons. It could be that these people were more allegorical in nature than developed ‘authentic’ individuals. I feel this did not take away from the enjoyment of reading, since I had an idea of the adventurous, plot-driven nature rather than it being a character-centered story. I appreciated Dumas creating a value system for one group of characters and opposing values for another, pitting them against one another, and creating a war in the mind of the reader. As a more idealistic romantic, I fully embraced the fantastical shaping of each character’s personality, story, and motivations without getting too caught up in the far-fetched elements.

While this book was mainly a revenge story, I found pleasure in enjoying that old and opulent European feeling that wrapped around me at every page’s turn. We switch settings multiple times, although most of the action takes happens in Paris. My senses were awakened and imagination set on fire as the opening chapter described Marseille, followed Dantès to the Chateau, traveled with Albert and Franz to Roma, saw the Count settle in his luxurious home in the Champs-Elysèes, and experienced the treachery of Corsican bandits. Ahh! It made my romantic artist’s heart sing.

If you were to imagine that lovely and magnificent thoroughfare, the Corso, lined from one end to the other on either side with four- or five-storey mansions, each with its balconies spread with hangings and every window decked with draperies; and at the balconies and the windows, three hundred thousand spectators, Romans, Italians, or foreigners from the four corners of the earth - every form of aristocracy brought together…are bending over the balconies and leaning out of the windows to shower the carriages passing beneath with a hail of confetti, which is repaid in bunches of flowers - the air thick with falling confetti and rising flowers - and then on the road itself a joyful unceasing, demented crowd, with crazy costumes: huge cabbages walking along, buffalo-heads roaring on men’s bodies, dogs apparently walking on their hind legs; and in the midst of all this, in the midst of this temptation of Saint Anthony as it might have been dreamed by Callot, a mask raised for some Astarte to reveal her delicious features, which you want to follow but from which you are kept back by demons such as might haunt a nightmare…then you would have a rough idea of what the carnival is like in Rome.¹

On a separate note, the Count’s humor had me cracking up. Not only did Edmond seem to forget there was a time when he did not possess endless wealth, but he also became lost in the persona he crafted for himself as this mysterious aristocrat. Several times, Dumas recalls our attention to the Count’s extravagant lifestyle and impudent manner toward those he considers lesser than himself (not in terms of status or wealth, but in character). This last was perhaps most hilarious of all, since his version of ‘talking down’ was to ingratiate himself with all of his enemies’ families and applaud them to the moon in front of their faces while at the same time ruthlessly exposing and embarrassing them all to Parisian society. The literal ‘good cop, bad cop’.

‘…Even if you were to ask for a million…’
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Monte Cristo.
‘I said, a million,’ Danglars repeated, with idiotic self-satisfaction.
‘What use would a million be to me? said the count. ‘Good heavens, Monsieur! If all I wanted was a million, I should not have bothered to open a credit for such a paltry sum. A million? But I always carry a million in my portfolio or my wallet.’²

or

‘What commands the Count of Monte Cristo,’ the strange man interrupted, ‘is the Count of Monte Cristo. So, not a word of all this, I beg you. I do what I wish, Monsieur Beauchamp, and believe me, it is always very well done.’³

Main themes like revenge vs. justice, redemption, love, jealousy, worldly gain, identity, isolation, and exile, all play their part in the epic drama known as The Count of Monte Cristo. As Robin Buss succinctly writes in the introduction to the book (which I suggest reading), ‘After more than 150 years, The Count of Monte Cristo remains one of the most popular and widely read novels in world literature; its longevity singles it out as almost unique amongst ‘popular’ novels.’⁴

Dantès, Job, and the misunderstanding of justice

‘I regret having helped you in your investigation and said what I did to you,’ he remarked. ‘Why is that?’ Dantès asked.‘Because I have insinuated a feeling into your heart that was not there previously: the desire for revenge.’⁵

Abbé Faria famously laments revealing the evil schemes of Edmond’s enemies, unwittingly planting the seed of vengeance.

While reading TCOMC and journaling, I noticed parallels between Edmond Dantès and Job from the Hebrew Bible—both misunderstood divine justice. Dumas either 1) believes or 2) imagines Dantès believes that God’s justice and Providence are separate entities. I won’t chase that rabbit trail, but the distinction is notable.

Like Job facing God's "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?"⁶, Edmond realizes the limits of human justice when he inadvertently causes young Edouard Villefort’s death. Pede poena claudo—"punishment comes limping"—fails as his motto. As The Bible Project’s Job podcast series notes, if God ruled solely as judge, humanity wouldn’t survive. Sadly, it takes Villefort’s son's death—and the near murder of his daughter—for Dantès to grasp this.

Unlike Job, Dantès takes justice into his own hands, seeing himself as an ‘avenging angel’:

‘It was necessary for both to reveal their celestial missions for them to be recognized - for one to say: “I am the angel of the Lord”, and the other: “I am the hammer of God”, for their divine essence to be revealed.’
‘Does this mean,’ Villefort said, increasingly amazed and thinking he must be speaking to a visionary or a madman, ‘that you consider yourself to be like one of these extraordinary beings you have just mentioned?’.
‘Why not?’ Monte Cristo asked coldly.⁷

Ironically, TCOMC was once considered a children's novel. But one lengthy scene cemented its complexity for me. I highly recommend reading the whole of it:

‘Look, look,’ the count continued, grasping each of the two young men by the hand. ‘Look, because I swear to you, this is worthy of your curiosity. Here is a man who was resigned to his fate, who was walking to the scaffold and about to die like a coward, that’s true, but at least he was about to die without resisting and without recriminations. Do you know what gave him that much strength? Do you know what consoled him? Do you know was resigned him to his fate? It was the fact that another man would share his anguish, that another man was to die like him, that another man was to die before him! Put two sheep in the slaughter-house or two oxen in the abattoir and let one of them realize that his companion will not die, and the sheep will bleat with joy, the ox low with pleasure, But man, man whom God made in His image, man to whom God gave this first, this sole, this supreme law, that he should love his neighbor, man to whom God gave a voice to express his thoughts - what is man’s first cry when he learns his neighbor is saved? A curse. All honour to man, the masterpiece of nature, the lord of creation!’

He burst out laughing, but such a terrible laugh that one realized he must have suffered horrible to be able to laugh in such a way.⁸

Monte Cristo delivers this tirade during a public execution, where he has arranged for one man to be pardoned while the other is killed. Franz d’Epinay, horrified, attempts to leave, but the Count forces him to watch.

Monte Cristo despises Franz’s empathy toward a criminal who simply wants his fellow condemned man to share his fate:

…you are taking pity on a man who was bitten by no other man, but killed his benefactor and who now, unable to kill anyone else because his hands are tied, wants more than anything to see his companion in captivity, his comrade in misfortune, die with him! No, no! Watch!⁹

Blinded by his pursuit of justice—essentially, revenge—Monte Cristo cannot see his own hypocrisy. In teaching Franz about humanity’s corruption, he fails to recognize his own.

Job and Edmond meet again at the novel’s close:

Monte Cristo paled at this terrible spectacle. He realized that he had exceeded the limits of vengeance, he realized that he could no longer say: ‘God is for me and with me.¹⁰

In a letter to Morrel Jr., he writes:

‘Tell the angel who will watch over your life, Morrel, to pray sometimes for a man who, like Satan, momentarily thought himself the equal of God and who, with all the humility of a Christian, came to realize that in God’s hands alone reside supreme power and infinite wisdom’¹¹

Likewise, Job has a similar response:

Then Job answered the LORD and said, “I know that You can do all things, and that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted. ‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’ Therefore I have declared that which I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. ‘Hear, now, and I will speak’ I will ask You, and You instruct me.’ I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear; but now my eye sees You; therefore I retract, and I repent in dust and ashes.” - Job 42:1-6

The pain of Edmond Dantès

Universally, pain brings us together as human beings. Less can’t be said of fictional characters; in fact, as I’m sure you all know, sometimes fictional people can be the most empathetic.

One of the quotes that hit home for me was during the first encounter between Franz and the count. Over dinner, soon to be followed by a drug-induced stupor (pgs. 316-7) the young man inquires of the count,

‘Have you suffered a great deal, Monsieur?’
Sinbad (the count) shuddered, and stared closely at him.
How can you tell that?’ he asked.
‘Everything speaks of it,’ said Franz. ‘Your voice, your look, your pallor, even the sort of life that you lead.’¹²

and then a little later, ‘you look like a man who has been persecuted by society and has a terrible account to settle with it.’¹³

In the encounters with Mercédès, my heart broke for Edmond. Dumas spun a savory tale of revenge, and part of that weaving was making the reader feel pity for the protagonist—or antagonist, in many ways. Edmond’s pain was tangible. Not only had he lost his love, but ultimately, Dantès lost his identity. He was no longer living as an exiled prisoner; instead, he willingly traded real freedom for a sort of pseudo-autonomy, in which he lived a caged existence of his own making. Revenge became his cell. Loss of love and identity? Well, I think all of us felt his pain through the pages.

Final thoughts, questions, and a podcast episode

Only three months into the year, I finished The Count of Monte Cristo! It was an adventure, it won my heart, and the characters live on in the fibers of my being as I wrap this chapter of my life up. A book of that size should dog people’s steps, and it has done just that.

As promised at the beginning of the post, I will leave below q’s and discussion points for you to journal and share with your book club crew. If you’re willing, please share your answers to the q’s down below, because I would love to see all of your responses and thoughts.

For those of you who want to know what the book is about without reading a million pages, go check out this podcast episode from Overdue…but also, shame on you if you do have the time, and don’t read it.

I check the time on my watch and exclaim. “Shoot! Sorry, everyone. As always, my passion got away from me. Let me know your thoughts and conclusions, and feel free to answer the q’s that I included in our discussion’s handout.

Once again, thank you for being part of our book circle. If you’d like to order a pastry on your way out, feel free to indulge in our freshly baked chocolate chip delights. It looks like the shop’s about to close, so finish up your book-browsing and conversations! Stay safe, reader.”

Would you like to support my café and secondhand bookshop? Feel free to purchase a pastry or drink from the menu or leave a tip in the jar!

1. Alexandre Dumas, Robin Buss, The Count of Monte Cristo, Penguin Books, pp. 397-98

2. p. 533

3. p. 977

4. Introduction, xxi

5. p. 168

6. Job 38:4

7. p. 353

8. p. 394

9. ibid.

10. p. 1181

11. p. 1242

12. p. 316

13. p. 317