4.5, only lost half a star because of the interminable goings-on about the peerage.

The band of comprachicos who abandoned the 10-year-old Gwynplain, meet their fate in the boat they try to escape in, in a huge sea hurricane.
"an enormous wave came down abeam, and fell on the vessel's quarter. There is always in storms a tiger-like wave, a billow fierce and decisive, which, attaining a certain height, creeps horizontally over the surface of the waters for a Time, then rises, roars, rages, and, falling on the distressed vessels, tears it limb from limb.
A cloud of foam covered the entire poop of the Matutina.
There was heard above the confusion of darkness and Waters a crash.
When the spray cleared off, when the stern again Rose in view, the skipper and the helm had disappeared. Both had been swept away.
The helm and the man they had but just secured to it had passed with the wave into the hissing turmoil of the hurricane."

Josiana and Lord David are betrothed, and yet:
"It is unbecoming to be married -- Fades one's ribbons, and makes one look old. An espousal is a dreary absorption of brilliance. A woman handed over to you by a notary, how commonplace! The brutality of marriage creates definite situations; kills choice; has a syntax, like grammar; replaces inspiration by orthography; makes a dictation of love; disperses all life's mysteries; diminishes the rights both of sovereign and subject; by the turn of the scale destroys the charming equilibrium of the sexes, the one robust in bodily strength, the other all powerful and feminine weakness: strength on one side, Beauty on the other; makes one a master and the other a servant, while without marriage one is a slave, the other queen.
To make love prosaically decent, how gross! To deprive it of all impropriety, how dull!"
Amen!

Young Rich Men, in london, had fun by causing mayhem, vandalizing, assaulting women, etc, and, protected by their wealth, were never prosecuted:
"the most fashionable of the clubs was presided over by an emperor, who wore a crescent on his forehead, and was called the Grand Mohawk. The Mohawk surpassed the Fun. Do evil for evil's sake was the program. The Mohawk club had one great object -- to injure. To fulfill this duty, all means were held good. In becoming a Mohawk, the members took an oath to be hurtful. To injure at any price, no matter when, no matter whom, no matter where, was a matter of duty. Every member of the Mohawk club was bound to possess an accomplishment. One was a 'dancing master'; that is to say he made the rustics frisk about by pricking the calves of their legs with the point of his sword. Others knew how to make a man sweat; that is to say, a circle of gentleman with drawn rapiers would surround a poor wretch so that it was impossible for him not to turn his back upon someone. The gentleman behind him chastised him for this by a prick of his sword,which made him spring round; another prick in the back warned the fellow that one of noble blood was behind him, and so on, each one wounding him in his turn. When the man, closed round by the circle of swords and covered with blood, had turned and danced about enough, they ordered their servants to beat him with sticks, to change the course of his ideas. Others 'hit the lion'; that is, they gayly stopped a passenger, broke his nose with a blow of the fist, and then shoved both thumbs into his eyes. If his eyes were gouged out, he was paid for them."

"Gwynplaine, we have said, compared himself and compared Dea."
"... Who was he? He knew not. When he looked at himself, he saw one he knew not; but this unknown was a monster. Gwynplaine lived as it were beheaded, with a face which did not belong to him. This face was frightful, so frightful that it was absurd. It caused as much fear as laughter. It was a hell-concocted absurdity. It was the shipwreck of a human face into the mask of an animal. Never had been seen so total an eclipse of humanity in a human face; never parody more complete; never had apparition more frightful Grinned in nightmare; never had everything repulsive to woman been more hideously amalgamated in a man. The unfortunate heart, masked and calumniated by the face, seemed forever condemned to solitude under it, as under a tombstone. Yet no! Where unknown malice had done its worse, invisible goodness had lent its aid. In the poor fallen one, suddenly raised up, by the side of the repulsive, it had placed the attractive; on The Barren shoal it had set the loadstone; it had caused a soul to fly with swift wings toward the deserted one; it had sent the dove to console the creature whom the thunderbolt had overwhelmed, and had made Beauty adore deformity.
For this to be possible it was necessary that beauty should not see the disfigurement. For this good fortune, misfortune was required.
Providence had made Dea blind."

From the time that he is 10 years old, and Ursus adopts Gwynplaine and Dea, Gwynplaine learns about the Peerage:
" '.. the Peerage is part of the order of society. Do you know that there is a Duke in Scotland who can ride 90 miles without leaving his own estate? Do you know that the archbishop of Canterbury has a revenue of $40,000 a year? Do you know that her majesty has 700,000 pounds Sterling from the civil list, besides castles, forests, domains, fiefs, tenancies, freeholds, prebendaries, tithes, rent, confiscations, and fines, which bring in over a million sterling? Those who are not satisfied are hard to please.'
'yes,' murmured Gwynplaine, sadly; 'the paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor.' "

When Gwynplaine is taken away by the wapentake, he has no understanding of what has befallen him. He is taken inside of a dungeon, where he observes a man, bound by his wrists and his ankles, with an iron shield on his chest and stomach, weighted down with numerous heavy rocks. This tortured soul, upon being questioned, says that Gwynplaine is...
" ' 'Tis he!' He repeated.
Then his head fell back on the ground and he closed his eyes again.
" '... My Lord judge, I repeat that it is not i. I am innocent of all that can be said. I know I am. I wish to go away. This is not justice. There is nothing between this man and me. You can find out. My life is not hidden up. They came and took me away like a thief. Why did they come like that? How could I know the man? I am a traveling Mountebank, who plays farces at fairs and markets. I am the Laughing Man. Plenty of people have been to see me. We are staying in Tarrinzeau Field. I have been earning an honest livelihood these 15 years. I am 5 and 20. I Lodge at the Tadcaster Inn. I am called Gwynplaine. my lord, let me out. You should not take advantage of the lowest state of the unfortunate. Have compassion on a man who has done no harm, who is without protection, and without defense. You have before you a poor MounteBank.'
'I have before me,' said the sheriff, 'Lord fermain clancharlie, Baron ClanCharlie and Hunkerville, Marquis of Corleone in sicily, and a peer of england.'
Rising, and offering his chair to Gwynplaine, the sheriff added:
'my lord, will your lordship deign to seat yourself?' "

Hugo gave this reader really too much information about the peerage of england, and its history. But one little tidbit was disgustingly informative to me:
".. Edward I was the king who ordered his son to boil him down after death, And to carry his bones to the wars."

Discussing the fact that josiana, sister of Queen anne, is now to be wed with Gwynplaine, who has taken his rightful place as Lord ClanCharlie, a couple of barons and dukes are...
"The Lords around them overheard the following dialogue between duras and mohun:
'marry The duchess josiana, Lord mohun!' 'why not?'
'plague take it.'
'She would make one very happy!'
'she would make many very happy.'
'but is it not always a question of many?'
'Lord mohun, you are right. With regard to women, we have always the leavings of others. Has anyone ever had a beginning?'
'adam, perhaps.'
'not he.'
'Then satan.'
'my dear lord,' concluded Lewis de duras, 'Adam only lent his name. Poor dupe! He endorsed the human race. Man was begotten on the woman by the devil.' "
If it were not only a made-up story, it would explain a lot about the human race.


( )

«Lui era l'uomo che ride, cariatide di un mondo in lacrime.»

Un libro che mi ha fatto malissimo, colpendo sempre nei punti giusti, senza mai risparmiare nulla. ( )

Un bambino viene abbandonato su un molo da alcuni "Comprachicos".
Loro salpano verso la tempesta, custodi di un terribile segreto, lui verso la sua nuova vita.

Non è certo un libro che si legge facilmente, almeno nella prima parte.
Hugo lo riempie di nozioni storiche e scientifiche utili a contestualizzare i modi di vivere, il periodo storico, i personaggi e le differenze tra i ceti sociali, riferimenti a miti greci, filosofi e frasi in latino. Molte di queste nozioni richiedono una cultura che io non ho e quindi non posso apprezzarle come meritano.
Problema mio quindi.

Nella prima parte però ci sono due capitoli che ho apprezzato più degli altri per pathos e coinvolgimento.
Sono quelli che fanno parte della storia principale e riguardano Gwynplaine e chi lo ha abbandonato. Dea e Ursus. Il loro incontro. Il percorso che li ha portati a incontrarsi.
Questi due capitoli sono "cinematografici" per intensità e potenza espressiva.

Quasi a metà (circa il 40%) il libro inizia ad essere più scorrevole. Ci si immerge nella storia com meno interruzioni, meno divagazioni.
Bello.

Da vedere anche il film muto del 1928 con Conrad Veidt, che ha ispirato la maschera del Joker dei fumetti di Batman. ( )

I really, really wanted to love this story but... Hugo was a great writer. there is no doubt about it. But this story has so many peaks and valleys that it is almost unbearable. Until now I thought Melmoth the Wanderer was the most difficult book I've read. I wanted to love this book so bad. But reading it was like swimming through concrete. The parts with our protagonist were incredible. The main characters are very memorable. The down points are Hugo and his penchant for pointless description. Pages of peoples names, who they were and what they did. This honestly served no point to the story. Unlike the Hunchback they had no purpose. It is a sad story, a moving story and one I won't forget for a very long time. But even for a piece in its time it is very slow. ( )

Forse il soggetto del libro è solo un mezzo per capire.Per capire la vita del XVII sec in Gran Bretagna e in Francia.
Per leggere quello che i libri di storia non dicono (il disprezzo tra le caste, i sotterfugi dei miserabili, la meschinità dei potenti).
Per rimanere inorriditi dai comprachicos (pura fantasia...? mah...) e dal trattamento riservato all'infanzia (questo innegabile e sicuro).
Per stupirsi del Libro Secondo, in descrizioni di mare che neppure Conrad - ma di cui Stevenson dice che il lettore attento dovrebbe provare vergogna, per l'inverosimiglianza delle descrizioni. Può darsi, ma è avvincente.
Per ricordare che c'e' differenza tra quello che era un romanzo un secolo e mezzo fa, e quello che è ora [- vogliamo parlare, che so, dell'Eleganza del Riccio...?] Per rimanere stupiti di fronte alla maestria di H. ( )