(no subject)

Things that combine poorly:

* Reading Les Miserables, which may be a story of redemption, but it is also a story of the seriously shitty and terrifying things people will do to each other;

* Attending a talk from a prospective Senator (Go Tom Allen!) during which he addresses exciting things like the economy, which scares me, and the energy situation, which is just depressing;

* Being on the bus and looking out to see a line of people outside the soup kitchen, waiting for it to open.

Any one, or maybe even two, of these things? Fine. It is grim, but I will deal. All three of them working together in my brain to cast a BLACK SHADOW OF WOE? I am not so good with that.

Luckily, after a few truly dismal, despairing seconds, I realized that my MP3 player was helpfully contributing by playing the most depressing song from The Fix's soundtrack, and I just had to laugh at the overkill. I mean, it was either that or pitch myself under the wheels of the bus.

Uh. In the interest of lightening this entry up a little, a question: When you guys read books that take place in other countries, do you find yourself going around trying to pronounce every non-English word you see with that language's accent, even when you know it's a completely different language? EVERYTHING IS FRENCH RIGHT NOW. Also, I usually default to Spanish pronunciation, so when I came across the name "Austin Castillejo" IN Les Mis I very nearly had an aneurysm from the resulting conflict in the language center of my brain.

(no subject)

One of the things I am constantly encountering, in reading Les Miserables (look, reading a twelve hundred page novel is a very consuming thing, so it merits lots of posts), is discovering that Hugo's version of events frequently makes far more sense than the musical's. I keep going, "Ohh, that's why that happens!"

. . . of course, this is not always the case. Les Mis is, at heart, a melodrama that relies a lot on coincidence and dramatic events for the plot to run smoothly. Hugo takes the time to explain things (OH GOD, does he ever take the time to explain things) which helps a LOT in making everything believeable in the context of the story, but sometimes I just end up giggling anyway.

Take, for example, Valjean's confession of his identity and subsequent arrest/not arrest, depending on the version we're talking about.

In the musical, Valjean confesses to a courtroom that happens to contain Javert, which apparently was thought to make for simpler storytelling, or something. (Believe me, I understand that the musical's writers had to streamline a lot of the plot to make it work, and they did a great job with it. That does not mean that every decision they made makes sense.) Then he flees the building and runs . . . directly to Fantine's sickroom, which is an interesting choice given that he has to know that Javert is in hot pursuit and knows all about Fantine.

It works out, though, because apparently Javert thought that attempting to apprehend a man he knows to be almost inhumanly strong without bringing any reinforcement would be a great idea! So Valjean tries to reason with him, but then just knocks him out and goes on his merry way. Nice policework, Javert.

In the novel, Javert has left the courtroom before Valjean arrives, which means it takes time for him to hear about the confession, which means that Valjean (who, Hugo establishes, is in something of a state of shock, anyway) visiting Fantine makes more sense, because he's got the time to do it. Or at least it's logical for him to think he does. And when Javert does show up at the hospital, he has the sense to bring backup with him, so his attempt to arrest Valjean is successful and no one gets knocked out.

However. It also causes the following scenario to play out:

Valjean, at the courtroom: ". . . and so, as you can see, I am irrefutably Jean Valjean, the dangerous convict and recidivist."
Everyone else: *stares*
Valjean: "Yup, Jean Valjean, that's me. The whole kindly mayor thing is a total fabrication and I am the bad guy."
Everyone else: *stares* "W. T. F."
Valjean: "So, uh, whenever you want to get around to arresting me, I'm available."
Everyone else, including all members of the court empowered to make arrests: *stares*
Valjean: ". . . right. Okay. I'll, uh, be back in Montreuil-sur-mer, then. You know. For whenever you're ready to make the arrest."
Everyone else: *stares*
Valjean: *leaves*
Javert, from the next town over: "Am I the only person in this entire godforsaken novel who knows how to do my job?"

This makes more sense when you're reading it, since Hugo spends a lot of time playing up how "Monsieur le maire Madeleine" is a much-loved and worshipped pillar of the regional community, but then afterwards it's like, "Wait, did they really all just stand there and look at him?" And then I find myself thinking, "Man, Javert should have been there," and then the musical goes, "Nope, that wouldn't have worked either." And then I give up trying to make sense of a story that at one point relies on Valjean's ability to scale a sheer fifteen-foot wall and go on with my life.