Thursday, January 15, 2026

Les Misérables (abridged)

 



"...still bleeding from the lacerations of his destiny, who had been almost evil, and who had become almost holy" (212).




I know what you're thinking. "Haley, how could you read an abridged version of a book? Isn't that English teacher sacrilege?" Well, I'm here to tell you that it isn't. If you've been reading my posts for very long, you will know that one my most oft-listed critiques is that many classics (and other novels as well) are TOO LONG. 

What makes them too long? Not necessarily page count, but that they say all that is needed and then say more. If I feel that a book is far too lengthy, it is not because it took too long to read. The reason has much more to do with the content. Sometimes, hundreds of pages are needed to communicate an idea or plot correctly. But most of the time, an author doesn't actually have that much to write. They repeat themselves and fill their work with bloated descriptions that distract from the core story.

As the introduction to this abridged version of Les Mis says, "What is chiefly lost [in the abridgement] is the novel of ideas...What remains is a novel of character and action see in much clearer outline" (9). I do believe in enduring even the lengthiest and most drudging classical work for the sake of trying to understand what gave it such cultural meaning and endurance. But I also consider it an important tool to cut away the excess and experience these classics in a more manageable and friendly way.

I have not read much French literature at all, and so this being my first time reading Les Mis, I chose to use the abridged version that more clearly highlights the story itself. If those extracurricular aspects were left out, how many reviewers of this book would be able to engage more directly with the narrative itself? I understand why this book has reached the height of acclaim, and I am glad for the opportunity to talk solely about the novel without the entanglement of essays on the Parisian sewer system, however enlightening it may be.



1. "'And how does it happen that you know me?''You saved my life,' said the man" (124).

Unfailingly engaging. There are a lot of plot points in this story, and it covers half a lifetime of ground. It is almost "all things to all people," because it includes characters who traverse everything from falling in love, to personal moral reform, to abandonment by a parent, to military participation. The hundreds of pages went very quickly. I looked forward to picking up the novel each day, because I knew that something new was around the corner of every chapter.

This allure is also due to Hugo's prose. I am reading the book in a translated language and not the original, so perhaps there is some meaning lost in translation, but I found it both easy and charming to consume. The wording is not bogged down by long descriptive phrases or confusing exposition, and there are many moments when I paused to revel in the poignant dialogue or relevant observations.


2. "Her long, fair lashes, the only beauty left to her of her maidenhood and youth, quivered as they lay closed upon her cheek. Her whole person trembled as if with the fluttering of wings which were felt, but could not be seen, and which seemed about to unfold and bear her away" (88).

Characters about whom the reader can care. When I say that I believed in these characters, it is not an exaggeration. I wept with Fantine at her abuse and death; I was on the edge of my seat when Thénardier held Jean at gunpoint and attempted to rob him. How did Hugo manage to write such relatable characters into a tale from 19th century France? I think it has to do with the caste of humanity lent to each of them.

Maybe I have not been left by my father or mother so that they could provide a better life for me, but I have felt abandoned or forgotten. I have also had to make hard decisions that perhaps were not fully successful in their application. I have loved and lost, and I have known those who lost themselves in the pursuit of their desires.

Les Mis is not only a novel of the miserable. It is also a novel of those who long within themselves for a different world. The people found within hope to see the good in those around them, but they often find the result of unfulfilled longing--dissatisfaction that leads to pain and a crisis of identity. How each character recovers varies, and their responses indicate the trajectory of their lives. Not always do our actions result in the most justly deserved ending, and anyone who has lived for a short amount of time will know this truth in their bones. 


3. "He rose, shivering, chilled, infected, bending beneath this dying man, whom he was dragging on, all dripping with slime, his soul filled with a strange light" (272).

Overly romantic and sentimental. Les Mis is, at its core, a romance. This quality does not just ring true in the puppy love and marriage between Cosette and Marius, but also in the familial compassion of the likes of Fantine, Jean, and others. An interesting dichotomy exists in a novel about longing, both fulfilled and otherwise. The characters are never dealt joy without the accompanying sacrifice that creates a reality where that contentment is possible.

However, the romanticization appears in the foundational belief that there is always someone willing to make that sacrifice on behalf of those who are indefatigably good. The heroes win and the villains do not. Everything aligns so that the soul mates can be together, and fate leads to where they belong.

While there is much tragedy between the covers of this book, both the losses and the gains are viewed as predestined to occur. There is something inherently romantic about the idea that, even in the face of great agony, pure love will prevail. While the romantic elements are not a criticism per se, it is sometimes difficult to swallow the sentimental ponderings and continued chance encounters of those who continue the plot.

To offer a few examples, Marius roams the streets of Paris for months following and pining after Cosette when he hasn't spoken a single word to her. I did appreciate the relatability of the responses that Hugo ascribes to his longing, and the subsequent commentary on how Cosette (as the object of affection) and Jean (as the father of that object). However, at some point it does need to be acknowledged that this type of stalking is insane behavior and could just as easy be the introduction to a very different kind of novel, if not for the romantic ending.

Also, Jean Valjean ends up allowing Javert to go free instead of being executed, finding and rescuing Marius, and interacting with Thénardier in the sewers so that he can eventually be the one who unwittingly reveals the truth of his salvation to Marius. All of these plot points are so conveniently placed that the only argument that makes sense is that destiny allowed it, as the book continually notes as the cause for all that happens.


4. "This man was Thénardier. Jean Valjean perceived immediately that Thénardier did not recognise him" (274).

Difficult to believe. This point leads me to my last thoughts on the novel. Sometimes, as mentioned in my above examples, the suspension of disbelief becomes a little too much. I primarily felt this way when the same group of characters were repeatedly running into one another, unplanned, in the streets of a bustling city. 

Maybe once in a novel, a chance encounter or mistaken identity can work for a plot twist. But when that trope becomes the main plot device used over and over again, it starts to lose its luster. Of course Jean will meet Thénardier in the sewers! Who else would he meet? And Eponine spends page and pages being the catalyst of different events throughout the novel. Whenever a shadowy figure was described as doing anything, I immediately knew that it was she.


Maybe one day I will invest time in reading the entire thousand or so pages, in all of its glory, of Les Misérables. I certainly enjoyed the solely narrative portion that I read and would label it a contender for re-reading. I strongly recommend the abridged version, as it is beautifully written, and I would be disappointed were someone to feel hatred toward the book because of the extraneous exposition in Hugo's full tome.

Overall, it is a great read that I have thought deeply about since I finished. The novel is beautifully crafted thematically and formally, and I think anyone with a love of good storytelling will find its pages enjoyable.


Les Misérables (abridged)

  "...still bleeding from the lacerations of his destiny, who had been almost evil, and who had become almost holy" (212). I know ...