No, not the movie(s) or the musical; the book. In the past
few years I’ve been taking advantage of the many free, classic books available
for Kindle, and
Les Misérables is my
latest conquest. It’s taken me several months, during which time I took breaks
and read other
wonderful novels, but I’ve finally finished this epic and moving
story.
Actually, to call Les
Misérables “epic” is an understatement. In addition to the decades-spanning
story, which on the screen takes hours to tell even in abbreviated form,
the
book takes no shortcuts in setting up each location, each theme, each
character. For example, the Bishop of Digne, who has a pivotal but brief scene
early in the movie adaptations, is the primary figure in the first ten percent
of the book, long before Jean Valjean appears. There are multiple chapters on
the Battle of Waterloo – which does not figure in the main storyline, but helps
to establish the backstory of a few characters. Before Jean Valjean hides in a
convent, we are treated to a lengthy discourse on the history and philosophy of
French nunneries. Before he carries Marius through the sewers of Paris, there
are whole chapters on the history and, yes, even the philosophy behind those
sewers.
And yet it is almost all fascinating reading. (By contrast, Moby Dick’s many retreats into the
history of whaling left me snoozing.) We share the trials and triumphs of each
character, from the mundane events of everyday life to the upheavals of the
times in which they lived. Still, it becomes clear that none of the
multiplicity of characters, from the saintly but human Bishop or the villainous
Thenardier, nor even the “main” character of Valjean, is the true subject of
the story. Les Misérables is a story
of Providence, of the hand of God in each life’s events – from the ordinary to
the dramatic.
As a follower of Jesus, I was particularly drawn to the interplay
between Inspector Javert and Jean Valjean, as it is a pure conflict between Law
and Grace. Valjean, a criminal who broke parole, is in the eyes of the law
deserving of being returned to prison labor in the galleys, and Javert cannot
see him otherwise. Yet Valjean broke his parole by starting a new life – by leaving
his criminal past behind him and turning to good. The hand of Providence, first
extended to him by the Bishop of Digne, has by grace provided for him a
redeemed life, even though the law demands his punishment.
There is an early footnote concerning Valjean’s family history,
almost a throwaway “factoid,” but it made the novel an order of magnitude more
powerful to me. The footnote explains that Jean Valjean was named for his
father, and “Valjean” was likely not
a family name. Instead, it probably began as a nickname – the father’s name was
Jean, and “Valjean” was a shortened form of “voilà Jean” – here’s Jean.” And “Jean”
– John – is as common a name in France as here.
So Jean Valjean, the man enslaved by his sin, but then
redeemed by Providence and set free to live a better life, is “John – here’s John.”
He’s everyman. He’s you and me. Les Misérables
is a story of God and us.
