Tag: loss

The Count of Monte Cristo, for the last time

Part 6 in what I had originally intended to be four parts 

The plot 

Or,

Edmond Dantes; If God didn’t want me to do this he’d have killed me by now

Who we are to analyze and revenge ourselves upon in this section: The de Villefort family. Holy Shit. Let’s break this down as best I can.

Monsieur De Villefort Villefort is described in the novel as the type of person who “would sacrifice anything to his ambition, even his own father.” He is primo dick, and not in complimentary way.  Throughout the novel, whenever something  might threaten his social climbing, he’s ready to destroy it. His initial attack against Dantes is the one most driven by political gain. When Dantès has a letter from the island of Elba, where Napoleon is confined, to be delivered to Villefort’s father, he has Dantès imprisoned in Chateau d’If and personally destroys the evidence. Indirectly, he is responsible for Dantes’ father starving to death.

During Dantès’ fourteen years of imprisonment, Villefort rises to Deputy Minister of France. He has also made a politically advantageous marriage and has one daughter, Valentine. He later takes a second wife and has one son, Edouard. He also has had an affair with a woman who becomes the Baroness Danglars, and Villefort uses his wife’s family mansion (Monte Cristo later purchases this mansion) to conceal his mistress (the woman who will become Madame Danglars) while she is pregnant. When the child is born, Villefort announces that the child is stillborn and takes the child in a box to the garden, where he plans to bury him alive.

Villefort is, by all accounts, the villain of the novel.

Benedetto, the baby in question, is stolen by a smuggler assuming that Villefort is burying treasure and he’s very important to Dantes’ eventual plan.

Monsieur Noirtier Villefort’s father, the Bonapartist that threatens his political rise. He is a sympathetic , all but disabled character with whom only Valentine is able to competently speak. Presumably by the time of the revenge plot he’s had a series of strokes. The attempts of Madam de Villefort to kill her stepdaughter mean there is a poison plot where Nortier attempts to intervene but he is rendered mute by his disease. (Yes, there’s a large poison subplot.  Her stepmother thinks if they kill the daughter, who’s set to inherit from her mother’s estate, then everything will revert to them. A disguised Dantes gives her the idea, even. These people just have a lot going on).

Monsieur Noirtier tries to warn about the plots surrounding Valentine because of her pending inheritance. Ultimately without Valentine this family is fucked.

Valentine De Villefort  Juliet, aka Romeo and Juliet. We’re going to poison her but it’s okay, she gets to be with her beau in the end because Dantes is going to stop him from killing himself and reveal that the poison is just a sedative.

Valentine, like Edouard, Albert, and Eugenie, represents innocents. People pulled in by the machinations of their evil parents and therefore people whom Dantes identified with and is willing to alter his plans around.

The Morrel family, and the fact that Valentine is in love with Maximilian, represents the ultimate source of goodness for Dantes. By reuniting the lovers and protecting them, he undoes some of the damage done to him when he was the young and innocent one being corrupted by the adults of the novel and separated from his betrothed.

Héloise, the second Madame de Villefort Hates her step kid, really easy to convince that killing her is a dope idea.  After a rash of poisonings of anyone  that stands in the political way of the family, it becomes obvious that her earlier conversation with the disguised Dantes took. Later, when her husband accuses her of the poisonings and demands that she commit suicide or else face public execution, she poisons both herself and their nine-year-old son.

Edouard ‘s death is the one that Dantes hadn’t forseen. It works outside of his plans and causes him to panic at what he’s done.

Edouard De Villefort The nine-year-old son of the de Villeforts. When they find his body, Dantes panics and tries to revive him, ultimately leaving him for Villefort to find.

Now, let’s get back to the Benedetto kid. The one they try to force Eugenie to marry before she runs away to be a lesbian. The one Dantes dresses up and calls Cavalcanti.  All of that is revealed at a trial where Villefort is presiding as head deputy for the state.

Villefort, the social climber, is broken down in and by a court case he presides over that reveals everything he’s done to the public while he watches.

He leaves the trial, flees really, to apologize to his wife and convince her not to kill herself. He’s just as evil as her, after all, and there’s no reputation to protect anymore, except instead he finds her and Edouard dead.

Now, chronologically this doesn’t fit here, but to tie the whole book together,  the revenge is complete. Haidee, you remember Haidee? Haidee admits she never seduced Albert very effectively because she’s in love with Monte Cristo. Dantes, who doesn’t really know how to be a normal person anymore, realizes it and speculates on if he’s even capable of being Edmond Dantes anymore. Regardless, with his revenge complete, the children (all but Edouard and Benedetto) on better life paths, and the responsible parties all punished, he decides to try.

He and Haidee sail away together.

And *that* is the plot of the Count of Monte Cristo.

Review: You Feel it Just Below the Ribs

You Feel it Just Below the Ribs
Jeffrey Cranor, Janina Matthewson

Wheewwww
I loved it. I struggled with it a bit because it feels at times too unreal and at other times too close to home, which I imagine is exactly the sliver of reality is seeks to exist between.
I have realized something very crucial in reading this book; I would follow Jeffrey Cranor into the ocean. Which I imagine would be terrifying for him, but I love the biting realism in this dystopian thriller.
Typically, I am not a fan of books told in journal format, it’s just not my preference, but this was excellently written, sci-fi horror.
I absolutely recommend it for people who like darker, more realistic portrayals in their fiction.

Never Whistle At Night

As always when I read any collection of short stories there are particular ones which catch my attention, but I really can’t stress how much I enjoyed ‘Never Whistle at Night’. The collection is extremely well put together, spanning a variety of topics impacting indigenous communities, whether that be indigenous folk lore inspired, inspired by racism, classism, internalized trauma, religious trauma, or all of the above and of course more. The cultural weight of each story has its place in the anthology.

The editors deserve all the credit in the world, it’s a wonderful collection. Please support them.

Review: Wave

Making an effort to post a review every Friday!

Wave

Wave is a memoir by Sonali Deraniyagala about the loss of her sons, husband, best friend, and parents in the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami.

I was compelled to read this almost by strange stroke of fate. I had gone down a rabbit hole looking things up online doing grief research and someone mentioned it off hand in a comments section, and about five hour later I had bought and read the whole thing. I am putting this under the book review area, but really it could just as easily belong under psychology if I wanted to really delve into this work as a piece about grief. But I think I’d rather do Sonali Deraniyagala the service of making this about her. There’s this terrible urge to be magnanimous when we talk about grief and not focus on the individual shapes that grief takes. There was a review I came across while hyperfixating on this story that called Wave an unsentimental account of…I’ll stop there. What the fuck does that mean? This book is dripping with sentiment, just not in the preconceived Victorian tinted melodrama of loud wailing for prescribed lengths of time, as though your loved ones will stop being dead in six months. This book is an absolutely beautifully written account about an unimaginable amount of suffering and this woman somehow is still alive. Surviving a cataclysmic event does not end with the event, and Wave illustrates that very honestly. 

One of the things Deraniyagala discusses that most stuck with me is this notion of….when do you tell someone? How do you explain to someone new, someone you haven’t seen in a long time who asks how you’ve been, ‘oh, uh, well actually’. Wave talks a lot to the isolation that comes with trauma and the uniqueness of individual experience, because it’s individuals that are being lost.