Top ten. No, make that top five. Maybe top three.
Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo is a smashing drama of revenge. All those moments you rehearsed in the shower of the perfect comeback to something someone said that one time, times about a thousand.
What gets me always is the fact that the main character grows. Actually, all the characters grow. They flourish. They change. Edmond Dantès, the protagonist, evolves from naive and angry to educated and poised, and then to humbled and glorious. The antagonists display a range of reactions in meeting their poetic end: penitence, shame, guilt, anger, defiance.
I freaking love literature published in serial format. (Okay, not entirely true; I loathed Moby Dick until near the end.) But Count, Dickens’ stuff (The Tale of Two Cities had so much more drama than Netflix’s A Business Proposal but I will get on that later), and Sherlock Holmes… well, the thought occurs to me that I could be reading more feminist-leaning works. Still, the pacing, efficient writing (how much emotion can you contain in a sentence?), and richness has perpetual appeal.
It’s a massive book. My mum still hasn’t read this one because it sits like a brick (feels like a brick, looks like one, too) on the shelf, but one day, I hope I’ll get to read this to my kiddo (if she doesn’t read it herself).
I’m glad I had a post semi-saved for when I decided to try and get back into blogging. A lot has happened since my last update. I’m done school, working another contract, and including more in my routine with the preschooler (although since school ended, it’s been basically playgrounds every other day at least with her dad being home). Serving at church has definitely helped me realize that there are even more people to be thankful for in our congregation. And life has been really enjoyable. Most days pass where I don’t mourn the miscarriage, although every now and then I think to myself, “But I was pregnant.” But I’m okay with that, and learning to be content and rejoice in all situations.