Going into my reading, all I knew about Les Misérables was the blurb on the back – which promises a “spine-tingling chase” through the sewers of Paris! I chose to read the first chapter, called An Upright Man, (page 1-34) of the first section, called Fantine.
The story begins in a small Alpine town where a new bishop, Monsieur Bienvenu, has just moved in. He is immensely good: he gives up a large manor to exchange with the local hospital, which was too small for the number of patients. As the Alpine day draws to a close, a stranger comes to town, disheveled, dirty and furtive; this is Jean Valjean. He is turned away from the local inn, and spends all evening trying to find a place to stay. Just as he gives up to spend the night outside, a kindly woman points him to the bishop’s house.
Here, he is welcomed, given dinner and a clean bed. Though M. Bienvenu remains unaware, we learn that Jean is a convict. I was interested to learn his crime: he stole a loaf of bread to feed his sister and her seven children. This made me think of the question “what if you steal bread to feed your family?” I wonder if its origins come from this book. Part of being a French major has been learning about French bread culture (the French love bread), so it was interesting to see that element strongly in the first chapter.
We see how much suffering Jean endured for this loaf of bread – grueling labour for 19 years. But as he goes to bed, full and in clean sheets for the first time since his incarceration, he cannot get the bishop’s silver plates out of his mind. In the wee hours, he steals them and runs away.
The next morning he is brought back to the bishop by three gendarmes. Instead of an admonishment, the bishop gives him two silver candlesticks and sends him on his way. The silver, he says, “belonged to the poor. And who was that man? A poor man, evidently.” I found this extreme forgiveness and benevolence touching – M. Bienvenu seems almost too good.
Next, we find Jean alone on a mountain road, when Petit Gervais, “One of those pleasant and gay youngsters who go from place to place, with their knees sticking through their trousers” goes by. The boy drops a single coin – 40 sous – and Jean hides it under his shoe. The boy pleads and cries for his coin, but Jean does not budge. Finally, Petit Gervais runs off. Suddenly, as the coin glints up at him, Jean realises what he has done – with a backpack full of silver, he has stolen from a child. He runs after the boy, but to no avail: Gervais has disappeared.
“What a wretch I am!” exclaims Jean, and he falls into tears for the first time in 19 years. The chapter ends with his repentant return to the bishop.
I really enjoyed this first chapter! I found the language level harder than Bolaño, and much slower paced, which I did enjoy. For The Savage Detectives, I found I could read very quickly, while here, I had to plod (“plod” has negative connotations I feel – I plodded happily) through to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I enjoyed the historical distance between 2026 and the mid-1800s – references to carriages and millet seeds were lost on me – while also enjoying the timelessness of forgiveness, self-consciousness, and redemption. I am excited to see what Jean does with his second (maybe third?) chance.
For a question, what do you think about redemption as a theme in literature? Are there other stories that come to mind?
