The king only yields what the people take.

I am supremely grateful that Hugo was around twice as old as he was when he published this particular work before he came out with [b:Les Misérables|24280|Les Misérables|Victor Hugo|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1411852091l/24280._SY75_.jpg|3208463], for as much as I have delighted at the texts of various other literary wunderkinds, this book embodies what I can imagine readers most loathe about gothic/romanticism: overblown, discombobulated ciphers of figures parading around with their egregiously self-centered obsessions in a bloated cast coupled with certain lengthy digressions that all but beg to be abridged. Having deeply appreciated several adaptations, most notably for their respective music, of this story, I can't say that I wish that this work had never been written. However, I have to wonder what keeps this lumbering creature going outside the exigencies of academia the success of its modern interpretations, for it's not just in comparison to Hugo's magnum opus that this work miserably fails to pass muster. Now, would have I liked this better had I read it much younger? Perhaps, although if I had to choose, I'd rather not change my legitimate history of having, while in grade school, stumbled across and greatly liked an abridged version of [b:The Phantom of the Opera|480204|The Phantom of the Opera|Gaston Leroux|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327867727l/480204._SY75_.jpg|2259720], rather than retcon something more "literary" into its place. So, disappointing? For sure. I was hoping Hugo would be one of the ones to rise above the curse of the revisited white boy author, but alas: I'll likely have to wait till a future reread of Les Mis for that to occur.

Fashion has done more harm than revolutions.

Coming from simplified adaptations as I did, I was rather amazed by the relative plethora of other characters bobbing about amidst the machinations of a much broader stretch of society than I had been prepared for. However, the farther I went, the more excessive those other characters and their associated plot lines seemed to be: Gringoire and Jehan seemed Jekyll and Hyde of the same personage, and all the government officials, noble ladies, and certain unnamed figures seemed to exist simply for the sake of the long drawn out, anti-Rromani plot. Even the appearances of the a king seemed rather pointless, as if Hugo was attempting to remind the contemporaneous readers how good they had it compared to long ago times. What I know for certain Hugo was attempting was to protect Notre Dame from certain popular desires to tear the entire structure down, and reading this in the wake of the drama that the architecture went through in recent years (by the way, search up how many of those rich folks ended up actually giving what they pledged to the reconstruction. I dare you) is ironic, to say the least. This intention explains, but doesn't smooth over, the panorama Hugo delved into halfway through the book, and seeing how successfully, almost gloriously, I made my way through similarly rhapsodic passages in a triply long text at the tender ages surrounding twenty, I have to say that these particular sections are far more information dump than inspiring, almost prophetic, pronouncements. There's also the matter of how many sensational stereotypes this narration drags itself along on, and while certain characters are strongly crafted enough in their own right to successfully live on in many an adaptation, the holistic achievement of the original wasn't near grand enough to excuse the dehumanizing mess that the story devolved into within the first 50 or so pages. So, if you're looking for a Hugo, I'd honestly rather you pick up an abridged form of Les Mis than a full one of this: Notre-Dame was a bestseller then, but as can be attested to by many a work by women and person of color, that does not guarantee survival.

This proves, besides, that one may be a genius, and yet understand nothing of an art which he has not yet studied.

Before this year is through, I plan to complete both my master's degree and finally receive my long looked forward to award for doing so: acquire my Les Misérables tattoo. I've had the quote and the form picked out for years, and now all that's left to is to see just how much I can fit on my back in an ideal and lasting for (too small a print causes intense blurring over time). As can be seen from this, then, Hugo still has a place in my heart that will soon be physically displayed right next to the mark of my devotion to Tolkien, and reading this other work of Hugo's did not change this plan of mine in the slightest. In fact, I'm grateful Hugo wrote this first, for within it I see many of the kernels that were destined to blossom into full righteous hope and compassion in the text that imprinted itself on my soul years ago, and I can imagine his looking back on this in somewhat dismayed nostalgia helped him go further beyond what even he thought himself capable of in writing. I can also imagine that the conflict and tragedy that occurred between the first publication and the next must have matured his grasp on the human being in all their riotous forms. In short, I see the words "scathing critique of society" applied to Notre-Dame in various sources, and I say, I've read far, far better, from both Hugo himself and others. This work is doing well enough today that I don't need to hedge my critiques any, but it does make me wonder about the fields of gothic and romanticism and the conjunction of the two: how much of it portrays undying humanity à la [b:Wuthering Heights|6185|Wuthering Heights|Emily Brontë|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1388212715l/6185._SY75_.jpg|1565818], and how much of it is so much sentimental stuff and nonsense. At least Hugo grew wiser over time: I shudder to think of other, second-chanceless works clogging the genres that I could in my youth have fallen prey to, once upon a time.

These chants sung by aged men, lost in the darkness, over that beautiful creature, full of youth and life, caressed by the warm air of spring, and inundated with the sunlight, belonged to the mass for the dead. The populace listened devoutly.

P.S. I could have said a lot more about Hugo's commentary on 'Hindustan' and the like, but it would simply be more of a similar tone, and I've rambled on long enough as is.

A little hard to get into, but once you do, it's completely worth it. I'd advise getting the abridged version, just to skip over the 50 or so page description of Notre Dame that doesn't add anything to the story.. unless you want to read it.

Are you ready to step into the mesmerizing world of Victor Hugo? - To navigate through the labyrinth of Paris' streets, enter the heart of Notre Dame, and unravel the complex characters within?

The book is as dense and rich in content as it can possibly be. It is so detailed that you will gain a complete impression of French society, art, and architecture in the 15th century.

In its descriptions of society of that time, it sometimes goes on tangents that have little connection to the main plot. It can be frustrating on one hand, but on the other, all these pieces of information are valuable; a complete picture is painted. For example, two consecutive chapters describe first the cathedral and then the city of Paris in detail, spanning over 50 pages. Such parts can be skimmed, and the flow of the main story won't be lost.

The book is written with the intention to try to preserve art, architecture, everything that is valuable, or to depict its decline. It likely had an impact on preserving the cathedral to this day. The story takes place during the period when the Gothic style is disappearing, replaced by the Renaissance. Through architecture, people expressed themselves; it was a reflection of societal consciousness ("architecture is the precursor to the book" and "printing will kill architecture" are motives explored in one of the chapters). Then everything began to crumble, the old and valuable replaced by the new and uninspired. In a way, Hugo foresaw the fall of architecture to the state we have today.

“The greatest products of architecture are less the works of individuals than of society; rather the offspring of a nation's effort, than the inspired flash of a man of genius...”

There are several characters who can be considered protagonists, depending on the perspective. And they are all corrupt, gullible, or in another way imperfect. It's an honest critique of society. At some point, you get the impression that the cathedral and Paris are also among the characters.

You've probably seen Disney's movie; the book also has elements of fairy tale, but much darker, the plot is very entertaining. There is also a lot of dark humor. Priests, judges, officials, poets, philosophers, beggars, and robbers are all mocked, portrayed grotesquely to intensify the impression.

“Excess of grief, like excess of joy is a violent thing which lasts but a short time. The heart of man cannot remain long in one extremity.”

The main problem lies in fact that it's so rich in meaningful content- it can be overwhelming and requires breaks and reflections, which makes it a pretty slow read, especially in the beginning. Some parts span too long and some descriptions are probably not necessary. It's intellectual, full of lucid expressions, rich language, Latin phrases, very skillfully written.

At first glance, it's a fairy tale, a comical picture of the conditions at that time. On the other hand, it's a critique of society, an essay on art, full of beautiful, philosophical thoughts.
I dare not to recommend something this grandiose as it requires the reader to put in effort and exercise his patience sometimes. But if it intrigues you, I think you won't regret picking it up. 4.5/5.

Victor Hugo astounds me in his wonderfully angsty The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I knew going into this that it was pretty much a tragedy of a story, but I might have expected something a bit more gory and dramatic. What I received, personally, was 40% gore and 93% drama with additional points for surprising humor. If that makes any sense. (I'm writing this after listening to an hour and a half of an online tutorial and it's nearing dangerously to my bedtime.)

Quasimodo should definitely be considered as a timeless character, for he is quite possibly the most original fictional being I've ever read. I'm not a huge reader of French literature and this is my first Hugo novel, so I don't know all the technical facts concerning this topic but I do want to say that I believe it's an amazing feat for Hugo to preserve the inner human workings centuries after. This is truly a pure classic book true to Hugo's fabulous overdramatic flair.

Overall, I really enjoyed this. I was overwhelmed at some parts because his descriptions were so detailed down to the smallest grain of sand in certain chapters. There was also a memorable 14 page rant on architecture vs. the printing press that I tabbed. It was so irrelevant to the story but definitely hilarious.

C'est magnifique!

It's not my first time reading this book, but the enjoyment only grows stronger everytime I read this book again. Hugo, Hugo, Hugo, how can I not love thee? The intricate web of destiny you spun! The beautiful, subtle (or not so subtle) social comments you write! Absolutely mesmerizing!

My translated Bahasa Indonesia version literally means "The Beauty from Notre Dame". Initially I nagged a lot because I think a book should be translated as faithfully as possible to the original source, so it should be "Notre Dame of Paris" or at least its popular title, "The Hunchback of Notre Dame". But seeing how the story revolves around La Esmeralda and feelings of four men about her, I think that translation is acceptable.

What I loved most from this book is the characterization. Even for minor characters, such as Jehan Frollo, I think they are well developed. I especially loved Esmeralda and the men around her. Claude Frollo, an archdeacon who was obsessed over her. Phoebus de Chateaupers, whom she loved dearly with all her heart but turned his head from her at the most important time. Quasimodo, the hunchbacked Notre Dame bell ringer, whose pure love for Esmeralda was hid under layers of physical deformity. Lastly, Pierre Gringoire, her phony husband whom she married just to save his life from the court of miracle.

The strongest theme I found in this story is how love could be a beautiful yet destructive force. Frollo's love for Esmeralda, Esmeralda's love for Phoebus, brotherly love, fatherly love, motherly love, all kind of love. As an outsider you want to yell at them, "do not be stupid!" but you can also sympathize with their feelings, understand why they did what they did. They are not perfect, of course, but it's their imperfection and their complexity you will fall in love with. When you look at the mirror, you might see a little bit of Esmeralda, Frollo, Quasimodo, and Phoebus in yourself.

Other strong message : don't judge a book from its cover. Behind Phoebus' good looks, he is untrustworthy and vain. Under Quasimodo's hideous physical appearance lies a purest love and gratitude. Just because Esmeralda is a gypsy girl, doesn't mean she is responsible for all the cruel thing that happened inside the story. When we were prejudiced against someone, it is more often because of laziness in our part than the truth. It is clearly stated at the part of Esmeralda's court, where the judge was eager to decide on whatever punishment for her just because they had not had their lunch. They did not care about the truth, they just took the easiest path : "Esmeralda is a gypsy girl, gypsy girl is related with witchcraft, which is cruel. Therefore, Esmeralda is guilty, so let us just torture and hang her so we can get our lunch, shall we?" As blatantly stupid as it was, we really still use this path of thinking sometimes, even in modern times.

In the end, this is a really beautiful and heart wrenching novel. Will definitely revisit this book sometimes in the future.

Una maledizione e una benedizione.
La maledizione è per chi sceglie i brani da inserire nelle antologie scolastiche, scelte così insipide, noiose, inutili, che hanno tenuto una lettrice incallita come me lontana dal Hugo per tutti questi anni.
La benedizione invece è per lui, il grande Victor, per la sua scrittura meravigliosa, piena di humour persino nei punti più grevi e didascalici del racconto, per la sua penetrazione psicologica dei personaggi, per la sua abilità pittorica e architettonica nel descriverli.
Perché la Esmeralda, la piccola zingara, è descritta in modo pittorico, è un quadro pieno di luce e di colori, mentre Quasimodo è pura architettura, nelle sue membra deformi.
Da leggere, e inserire nelle riletture periodiche di cui non si può fare a meno per non perdere il senso della propria lettura.