The Hunchback of Notre Dame

by Victor Hugo

Victor Hugo's masterpiece The Hunchback of Notre Dame was first published in 1831, yet remains one of Western Civilization's most celebrated novels. This edition includes a linked table of contents.

Genres: Classics, Fiction, Historical Fiction, France, Gothic, Literature, French Literature

577 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1831

About the author

After Napoleon III seized power in 1851, French writer Victor Marie Hugo went into exile and in 1870 returned to France; his novels include The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1831) and Les Misérables (1862).

This poet, playwright, novelist, dramatist, essayist, visual artist, statesman, and perhaps the most influential, important exponent of the Romantic movement in France, campaigned for human rights. People in France regard him as one of greatest poets of that country and know him better abroad.

Reviews

[Bill Kerwin · Rating 5 out of 5]

I recently read Victor Hugo's Notre Dame de Paris for the first time, and was delighted and moved by the experience. Although it lacks the depth and humanity of Les Miserables, it possesses a grandeur of architectonic structure and an Olympian compassion all its own. Best of all, it gives us one of literature's most loving and detailed depictions of a city, rivaled only by Joyce's Dublin in Ulysses.

It is a shame that this book is so seldom referred to in English by its given name, for it is about more than the history of one hunchback, however moving that history may be. First of all, it is about the great cathedral that dominates and defines the city, the setting for much of the novel's action and most of its crucial events. It is also about the “genius loci” of Paris, the maternal spirit that offers sanctuary and support to its most unfortunate children, many of them literally orphans (Gringoire, Quasimodo, Esmeralda, the Frollos), be they ugly or beautiful, virtuous or evil, bringing a measure of comfort to their difficult and and often tragic lives.

Hugo's novel had been on my lengthy “must read” list for years, but what finally moved it to the top was my growing fascination with cities in literature. In childhood, my favorite Arabian Night's tales were the ones that took place in Baghdad, and from early adolescence I loved Sherlock Holmes' London, D'Artagnan's Paris and Nero Wolfe's New York. I also began to appreciate more fantastic cities, such as Stevenson and Machen's London and Leiber's Lankhmar.

Soon I fell in love with the hard boiled detective genre and—having been a childhood fan of Arthurian romances—identified with each of these modern knight-errants on a quest. I also realized that the individuality of each city—and the private detective's familiarity with it and his relation to it--was an essential part of the genre's charm. Even the most realistic of private eye cities—Robert B. Parker's Boston, for example—were filled with as many marvels as any Arthurian Romance: instead of a sorceress, one might meet a sexy widow; instead of a liveried dwarf, a mysterious butler; and instead of a disguised knight offering a cryptic challenge one might be offered a tailing job by a Beacon Hill Brahmin with a mask of smiles and hidden motivations. The world of the marvelous had been transported from the isolated castles, woods and meadows of England's “green and pleasant land” to the magnificent townhouses and seedy alleys of an urban environment. How had this occurred, and what were the literary antecedents?

I believe that Notre Dame de Paris in 1831 is the point where this all begins. Hugo took a shoot of the delicate gothic already in decline, grafted it to the hearty root of the city (or--more precisely--to a Gothic cathedral in the center of a great city, where it was most likely to flourish), watered it from the oasis of Arabian marvels (dangerous hunchback, guild of thieves, beautiful dancing girl), and cultivated the resulting growth with the historical method of Sir Walter Scott. Thus the urban romance was born.

This was just the start, of course. Another decade of industrialism and population growth would make the great European cities seem even more like ancient Baghdad. Dickens would make the thieves guild central to the sinister London of Oliver Twist and Eugene Sue's exploration of urban vices in The Mysteries of Paris (1841) would soon be successfully imitated--commercially if not artistically—by England's Reynolds in The Mysteries of London and America's Lippard in The Quaker City, or The Monks of Monk's Hall.

A little later the detective arrived in the gothic city (Poe's DuPont, Gaboriau's Lecoq, Conan Doyle's Holmes) and soon the marvelous and fantastic were re-introduced (Stevenson's New Arabian Nights, Machen's The Three Imposters) as well, fully preparing the urban landscape for the writers of the 20th century to construct their cities of romance in the worlds of detection and fantasy.

Hugo tells us that the bones of Quasimodo and Esmeralda have long ago turned to dust, but the marvelous city of crimes and dreams continues to live on.

[Madeline · Rating 3 out of 5]

Okay, I'm glad I read this book, if only to find out just how badly Disney ruined the story for the sake of their embarassing excuse for a film. (the horrendous straight-to-video sequel, which I fortunately only saw previews for, will not be spoken of at all.) Victor Hugo has a gift for the most ungodly depressing stories, but he writes very well when he's not rambling pointlessly to stretch out his page count. But I can't bring myself to give this four stars, and for one simple reason: with the exception of Quasimodo and Esmeralda, every single character in this book is an insufferable dickhead.
Frollo, obviously, deserves to be fed to sharks simply for the mind-boggling levels of creepiness he manages to achieve over the course of the story. Phoebus is even more of a fratboy asshole that I'd previously thought, and the way he decides to seduce Esmeralda despite the fact that she's the Gypsy equivalent of a vestal virgin made me want to teleport into the story so I could kick him in the nuts. Frollo's younger brother Jehan is a relatively minor character, but he gets mentioned because in every single scene he appears in, he's constantly yammering away and trying to be clever and witty, the result being that he makes Jar Jar Binks seem terribly endearing in comparison.
And Gringoire. I had such hope for him. He starts out promising, but then once Esmeralda gets arrested all he can worry about is the stupid goat, because I guess he thinks she's cuter than his fucking wife who saved his fucking life. When he joins Frollo to get Esmeralda out of the catherdral, he leaves the sixteen-year-old girl with Pastor Pedo McCreepy, and chooses to save the goat. The fucking goat.

One final word of advice: skip the chapter entitled "A Bird's Eye View of Paris." It's thirty pages of pointless babbling about what Paris looks like from Notre Dame, and it is impossible to read all the way through without wanting to stab yourself in the eyes with the first sharp object you can reach.
I know what you're saying - "Thirty pages? Pfft, that's nothing, I can get through that, I read Ulysses." First of all: you did not. Second: no, you cannot get through these thirty pages. "Mind-numbing" does not do it justice. It is pointless. Don't say I didn't warn you.

[Melissa Rudder · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have officially been wooed by nineteenth century French literature. First Dumas and now this. I just finished reading Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, and it was fantastic. The characters, the themes, the literary structures… Ahhh… *swoons*

Before I proclaim my love affair with Victor Hugo, I have to mention some negatives. First off: very, very difficult book to get into. I struggled through at least the first hundred pages, and I’m not that hard to please. Secondly, up until this point, I had always thought that abridged novels were ridiculous. How could the editors take parts out and still have the story make sense? Upon reading unabridged Hugo, I understand. The man had complete chapters devoted to discussing the history of Paris or the history of the cathedral, and while I admit that it was a clever way to show off his knowledge and spread his political ideals, it was not what I bargained for.

The novel would have been more accurately titled “The Archdeacon of Notre Dame.” (Frollo was not a judge as in the Disney movie. They just tried to secularize him to an equivalent position.) I argue that Frollo was the protagonist. The story spent most of its time with him: his internal struggle, his plotting. And his character was fantastic! He was underhanded, but I pitied him. He was pathetic, but I feared him. He did evil, but I loved him. Frollo was not simply a powerful villain; he was a dynamic, complex character that, at times, the reader could really sympathize with.

The other characters in the novel were equally impressive. Esmeralda’s sweet, strong innocence (she was only sixteen) and foolish devotion to Phoebus is heart wrenching. Quasimodo’s strength of body and heart is awe-inspiring. Phoebus’ selfish arrogance is antagonizing. The minor characters, from the old heckling woman, to the foolish young Frollo (the Archdeacon’s brother), to the rambling philosopher, create a motley portrait of a fascinating world.

Hugo’s occasional comments on society cannot go unnoted. I especially enjoyed one episode where Quasimodo was being questioned in court. In the novel, unlike in the Disney movie, Quasimodo is deaf, so, as he is being questioned, he tries to anticipate the judge’s questions and answer them accordingly. The irony is that the judge was doing the same thing. Hugo created a deaf judge. Beautiful. Anyway, a funny scene ensued, and Hugo made his point.

The best part of the story (maybe, there were just so many good ones) was likely Hugo’s portrayal of love. Love was everywhere: the inexplicable love Frollo had for his useless brother, the love that caused Frollo to accept Quasimodo, the love that broke a mother’s heart at the loss of her daughter, the faithful love that sent Quasimodo to Frollo with his tail between his legs… But the most stunning and provocative of all was the comparison of the three men who “loved” Esmeralda: one man, “loving” her so much that he wanted to possess her; one man, “loving” her for the moment, until another girl came along; and one man “loving” her so much that she went before everything: before his desire to be with her, before his desire to have her, before his own desire to live. *swoons again* Awesome book…

When I started reading it, everyone felt the need to warn me that it didn’t end like the Disney movie. I was afraid. I was scared that after stringing me along, Hugo was going to kill it at the end. Don’t worry: he doesn’t. The end is moving and beautiful and fitting and so what if it’s not Disney: it’s great.

And, to further please the happy reader, there were a million good quotes. Here you go:

“Oh, love!... That is to be two, and yet one. A man and a woman joined, as into an ange; that is heaven!” (Esmeralda).

“Great edifices, like great mountains, are the work of the ages.”

“He found that man needs affection, that life without a warming love is but a dry wheel, creaking and grating as it turns.”

“Alas! The small thing shall bring down the great things; a tooth triumphs over a whole carcass. The rat of the Nile destroys the crocodile, the swordfish kills the whale; the book will kill the edifice” (Frollo).

“It is to this setting sun that we look for a new dawn.”

“Spira, spera.” (“Breathe, hope.”)

“For love is like a tree; it grows of itself; it send its roots deep into our being, and often continues to grow green over a heart in ruins.”

“What man orders… Circumstances disorder” (Frollo).

“Everyone knows that great wealth is not acquired by letters, and that the most accomplished writers have not always a warm hearth in wintertime. The lawyers take all the wheat for themselves and leave nothing by chaff for the other learned professions” (Gringoire, the philosopher).

“A lighted candle never attracts one gnat only.”

“That’s life… It’s often our best friends who make us fall” (Gringoire).

“The human voice is music to the human ear.”

Just a wonderful sample of the jewels contained in The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. The novel was difficult, but well worth the effort. I’m just sitting here in awe of it. I can’t write any more.

[Matthew · Rating 3 out of 5]

While reading this book I started to notice how little the Hunchback is in it. A Goodreads friend mentioned that this is why the title for it in France is actually "Our Lady of Paris". For some reason, English translations chose the the Hunchback for the title.

If other books, movies, or TV shows named themselves based on a character that was involved as much as Quasimodo was in this story, here is what they would be called:

Star Wars = Chewbacca
Harry Potter = Neville Longbottom
The Big Bang Theory = Howard Walowitz
The Shining = Danny Torrance
Frozen = Olaf
Lost = Smoke Monster

All those characters are important to the stories, but they are hardly the main focus. While this is the case with this book, it is not necessarily a bad thing, just a thing to be aware of going in; you really don't get very much Quasimodo.

After reading and loving Les Miserables, I had high hopes for this book. But, it was just okay. I am glad I read it and I did enjoy it a lot in a few parts, but most of it was a slog. Hugo spends the first 350 pages or so setting up the story, describing Paris at the time of the story, etc. I think many who try this would have a hard time staying interested. Also, and I hate to say this because I always want my books to be unabridged, but, you could probably abridge this to 150-200 pages and still get everything.

Classics buffs, Hugo fans, hardcore historical fiction fans - step right up! Casual reader thinking about checking out some Hugo, step on over to Les Mis!

[Steven Medina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Inicio lento, final espectacular.

Cuando niño amé mi infancia; jugaba sin parar, me encantaba hablar hasta el punto que me obligaban a callar y los deportes eran mi centro de atención en todo momento. Cuando estaba en esa etapa de mi vida —que por cierto extraño y de la cual siento nostalgia cada vez que pienso en ella— como no me gustaba permanecer quieto, mi atención hacia la televisión era mínima. Razón obvia que me llevó a olvidar muchos de los programas o películas que conocí en mi niñez, como por ejemplo El Jorobado de Notre-Dame: De hecho ni siquiera recuerdo si de niño vi la película o no. Afortunadamente, el tiempo pasa y nuestros roles cambian. En mi caso, el rol de tío que apareció a los 17 años fue el que me llevó a conocer esta historia de Victor Hugo. Era una tarde del 2020, me encontraba aburrido, mi sobrina también, y tras ver un listado de películas infantiles resultamos viendo la famosa cinta de Disney de El Jorobado de Notre-Dame. Personalmente, la disfruté muchísimo, pero principalmente fue por la crueldad y dureza del arcediano, Claude Frollo. Me siento atraído por este tipo de villanos vengativos que no ceden ante sus enemigos, y que usan toda su inteligencia para evitar que el protagonista venza. Pero bueno, la película acabó y ya me preparaba para quitarla, cuando en los créditos el nombre de Victor Hugo capturó mi atención al leer que él era el creador de esa historia. ¡Yo no tenía ni idea! Pero de inmediato busqué esta obra porque conociendo la gran capacidad de Victor Hugo de crear personajes, se volvió para mí una urgencia leer este libro y conocer más a fondo a Claude Frollo. Entonces lo leí y al finalizar quedé sorprendido por la forma como pueden transformar una historia tan cruel en una adaptación hecha para toda la familia.

La historia se desarrolla a finales del siglo XV en la ciudad de Paris, en el periodo de transición entre la Edad Media y la Edad Moderna que conocemos como el Renacimiento. Una época donde las torturas, ejecuciones, creencia en la alquimia y en la brujería son parte del día a día de las personas que viven allí. Victor Hugo nos presenta un contexto histórico excelente donde conoceremos desde la forma como está construida la Catedral de Notre Dame, hasta el descaro y decadencia de la sociedad representada por la Corte de los Milagros, donde los truhanes, vagabundos y limosneros se resguardaban de noche después de pasar todo el día fingiendo enfermedades, robando y engañando al crédulo. También conoceremos la opinión del autor hacia la guillotina, la destrucción de las edificaciones antiguas, la imprenta, la arquitectura, entre otros temas. Todo eso está muy bien y con ese contexto realmente sentiremos como si viviéramos en la Francia del siglo XV, pero, el problema, es que el autor se excede tanto en sus descripciones que el inicio se vuelve demasiado lento; es tan lento, que en las primeras 250 páginas solo encontramos tres escenas. Y sí, ese es el estilo de Victor Hugo, pero a veces se extiende tanto que se convierte en una molestia, o por lo menos eso sentí yo tras leer cuarenta páginas consecutivas atiborradas de descripciones sobre los lugares que se ven desde la cima de Notre-Dame: Eso no es nada agradable. Lo curioso es que ya estaba acostumbrado al estilo de Victor Hugo tras leer Los Miserables, pero en la primera mitad del libro inevitablemente perdí la paciencia y por momentos creí que en las páginas restantes encontraría más descripciones que historia en sí. Además, hay muchas expresiones en latín, provocando que constantemente debamos revisar las anotaciones del libro para entender el significado de aquellas frases, afectando directamente el ritmo de la obra. La prosa ha sido lo más difícil de este libro.

Sin embargo, el libro se vuelve interesante desde que cierto personaje grita la palabra «Asilo». En ese tiempo si un delincuente entraba en un castillo, en una catedral o en un hotel de un príncipe y pedía asilo, automáticamente por ley debían resguardarlo en ese lugar sin tener en cuenta sus delitos y no podían apresarlo. Desde allí el libro entra en un estado de emotividad impresionante, donde conoceremos la diferencia entre un amor puro, un amor obsesivo y un amor ingenuo. Pero no solo eso, también encontramos un ritmo intenso, acción, drama, tragedia, tristeza, locura total, terror, violencia, etc. Cuando llegué a la mitad creí que al final me arrepentiría de leer este libro, pero afortunadamente no ha sido así, y es justamente el desenlace por lo que vale la pena soportar la lentitud inicial: Es un final conmovedor.

Los personajes, tal y como lo esperaba, son un punto muy positivo de este libro. Están bien desarrollados, tienen su comportamiento, pensamientos y creencias muy bien definidas y al igual que en Los Miserables, cuando se juntan o se relacionan entre ellos es que ocurre la verdadera magia. Son personajes muy diferentes entre sí, pero comparten una particularidad en común: La atracción que sienten por Esmeralda. Ella, con sus 16 años, llena de belleza, sensualidad y pureza, enamora a quienes la ven bailar diariamente cerca de Notre-Dame. Esmeralda es descrita con tanta dulzura e inocencia, que en un mundo tan perverso es natural que ella sea el centro de las miradas. Los demás son personajes codiciosos, egoístas y malvados, pero inolvidables. No olvidaré a Gringoire y su obsesión por una cabra; no olvidaré a Phoebus y su repugnante presencia; no olvidaré a Jehan y sus malas decisiones; no olvidaré a Esmeralda y su ingenuidad; no olvidaré a Quasimodo y su amor no correspondido que me hizo recordar mis fracasos amorosos; y sobretodo no olvidaré la obsesión, psicopatía y maldad del arcediano Claude Frollo.

En resumen, un libro que me ha gustado pero que he sufrido. No es tan espectacular como me lo imaginaba, pero ha sido un placer conocer la verdadera historia de Notre-Dame. Y cuando menciono «la verdadera historia» tampoco significa que el libro y la adaptación sean completamente diferentes; sin embargo, sí descubrimos sucesos que han sido omitidos o alterados, naturalmente por la audiencia a la que fue dirigida la adaptación. Incluso gracias a este libro entenderemos mejor el contexto histórico donde se realizan los sucesos de la película. Y sí, la prosa es complicada, pero en este caso hay que comprender que el autor no escribía para un público futuro, sino para quienes vivían en su propia época por lo que es entendible su forma de contar la historia. La calificación es de cuatro estrellas.

[هدى يحيى · Rating 4 out of 5]

وكأن هذه الأنشودة الخالدة يتردد صداها في كل روايات هوجو
أنشودة المظلومين والثائرين في كل مكان
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpDbv...

‏"إن هذا الألم لا يهرم أبدا.."‏
--------------

واحد من المساكين
البؤساء
التعساء
والمحرومين
والمنعزلين عن العالم

واحد اسمه كوازيمودو
كل ذنبه في الحياة أنه قبيح
قبيح وفقير وبائس
وله قلب من ذهب


كتلة من القبح
عزلها لمجتمع وأخفاها حتى لا يؤرق راحته أو يؤذي عينيه
العينان الأقبح والأكثر مدعاة للسخرية
بل والشفقة
جعلوه منبوذا دائما
وأضحوكة أحيانا
عشق الأحدب نموذج الجمال الكامل المتمثل في إزميرالدا
الغجريّة التي عطّفت عليه وأشفقت
ولكنها لم تحب سوى ظاهر الفتنة البراق
فيبوس الضابط الوسيم والأسود القلب

وبرغم ذلك تتبعه ليكون مورد هلاكها
‎

الشقاء أن يحب الرجل امرأة لا تحبه.. لا تشعر به.. لا تشفق لحاله‏
أن يريد الرجل التضحية بحياته كلها لقاء ابتسامة من حبيبته وهي تنفر منه ‏أو تهرب وتصد
ولا تدري أن صدودها طعنات للقلب الذي أحبها‎
‏....‏‎
الشقاء أن ينشطر الرجل إلى عقل وقلب
العقل يلعن من يخون
والقلب يعفو ويسامح رغم الألم والعذاب مع من يحب وبكن له الحب العظيم

:::::::::::::::

ومع دقات أجراس نوتردام يتحدى الأحدب الطيب كل بديهيات العالم ‏الموروثة
ويعطي للجميع درسا خالد واضعا حدا للقمع والظلم الذي عاناه طوال حياته ‏البائسة

أراد أن يجعل من تضحيته عبرة للجميع
صرخة أخيرة يقول فيها أن البقاء للجمال الحقيقي‏
وإن كنتم ترونه أزميرالدا فليكن
فهو أيضا يرى ذلك

سيفنى القبح ويستمر نموذج الجمال

:::::::::::::::

إنها رائعة هوجو التي بشخوصها جميعا يصور لك مدينة بائسة بقاطنيها
هذا القس الذي كره الحياة واعتزلها حتى يقع في حب الغجرية
فيصير كائنا آخر لا يعرف سوى الأذى وحب التملك‏

الأم التعسة التي تجد ابنتها بعد 16 عامًا لتقتل في النهاية‏

جرنجوار الشاعر الغير عابئ بمن يزوجوه أو بما يفعلوا به

المدينة المبهرجة بألف لون مزيف
والمغرقة في طلاء الجمال المتقشر

والتي تلعن كل ما يخيفها جماله الحقيقي
لاهثة وراء كل ما هو سطحي ومجوف وذابل
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeLtS...

[İntellecta · Rating 4 out of 5]

Victor Hugo ties in the destinies of a handful people in Paris in the late fifteenth century so cleverly and atmospheric together in a tragedy, that it belongs to the most known dramas’ in European literature. The significance of this work is based on the psychological archetypes that Hugo portrays as tragic characters. The author characterized the underlying society with particular destinies and psychographics.
Church, nobility, poets and criminality of the contemporary Paris, which are here represented by individual fates, are leading to genre picture of this time.
I personally think that Hugo's excellent narrative style and ability to act are complex and intelligent.

[Game0ftomes · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a timeless masterpiece that weaves together rich, vibrant characters and breathtaking descriptions of Paris. Victor Hugo's storytelling is both poetic and powerful, drawing readers deep into the heart of a tragic yet beautiful tale. The characters, especially Quasimodo and Esmeralda, are unforgettable, evoking both sympathy and admiration. With its mix of romance, mystery, and social commentary, this novel is a truly captivating experience that resonates long after the final page.

[BookHunter M ُH َM َD · Rating 2 out of 5]

أن تعيش داخل جسد مشوه أفضل ألف مرة من حياتك داخل نفس مشوهة و كأنك جثة تمشى بين الناس
01

أفضل وسيلة لتهدئة الجموع هي أن تؤكد لهم أن التمثيل سيبدأ في الحال
02

وباء إرهاب المشنقة،أخطر الأوبئة لأنه لا يأتي من الله بل من الإنسان
03

وعلى الرغم من هذه البشاعة الصارخة، والدمامة المنقطعة النظير، فقد كانت تبدو على هذا المخلوق العجيب علامات القوة والخفة والشجاعة، وهو شذوذ على النظرية المألوفة التي تقول بأن القوة كالجمال، لا تنتج إلا عن تناسب الأعضاء.

[Nikola · Rating 4 out of 5]

To była żmudna przeprawa. Myślę, że bez audiobooka bym nie podołała.
Z minusów:
Mnóstwo opisów architektury, które były bardzo szczegółowe.
Czasami dziwne przeskoki czasowe.

Z plusów:
Smutna, piękna historia.
Trudne i łamiące serce tematy.
Bohaterowie niesamowicie dobrze skonstruowani.

[Brett C · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a great story! I can't believe it took me this long to discover this book. This is my first Victor Hugo attempt and I really enjoyed it.

It may be detail heavy on certain things, may ramble and go into seemingly different directions, and may go overboard on certain descriptors: but it adds character to the story and adds dimension to the characters.

The story centers on Esmeralda, a local Gypsy girl, trying to discover her past.

Unfortunately, she is the focus of unhealthy obsession from a priest, Frollo, who secretly dabbles with witchcraft and alchemy. Lastly, there is the outcast hunchback Quasimodo, the deformed bell ringer taken in by Frollo when he was an abandoned newborn. Oddly enough, he does not play a major role in the story and could be considered a lead supporting character. The gothic cathedral acts as a focal point to the story and almost as an additional character.

What really got me was the human element of the characters. They contained depth and were all well-developed.

The writing is terrific and I was easily sucked into the story. This translation by Walter J. Cobb read smoothly and coherently. This was great storytelling in my opinion and highly recommended. Thanks!

[Luís · Rating 5 out of 5]

If I love immersing myself in a classic, a novel that has survived more than two centuries of reading can't be bad. With Notre-Dame de Paris, this little theory has been confirmed once again.
Victor Hugo's most famous novel is fascinating. Magnificent, beautiful, and tragic at the same time, there is a power in the writing that captivated me. The timeless story revolves around Esmeralda, whose beauty alone will change the destinies of four men: the knight, the archdeacon, the poet, and the hunchback. These are four very different men madly in love with this young woman.
Victor Hugo also offers a very captivating immersion in medieval Paris: the descriptions of the city, the daily life of Parisians, and the vocabulary used. Thanks to a vibrant, detailed universe, everything teems with life and screams truth.
Notre-Dame de Paris is a relatively demanding read that requires complete dedication to be fully appreciated. But as long as you enjoy classics and hardbacks, you'll undoubtedly enjoy it.

[Paul Haspel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Notre Dame, the grand cathedral at the heart of Paris, gave Victor Hugo’s 1831 novel its original title. We in the Anglosphere know the book as The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and tend to focus on the character of Quasimodo, the bell-ringer whose physical deformities conceal a brave and kind heart. The reason for the confusion of titles is quite simple: the book’s English translator, working in a time when literary Gothicism was highly popular, simply retitled the novel for its first English-language publication in 1833, figuring no doubt that a book named after a hunchback would sell more copies than a book named after a cathedral.

As titles go, however, Notre Dame de Paris is truer to the spirit of what Hugo wanted his novel to provide – a grand, epic look at life in medieval Paris, unified around the cathedral that has been overlooking Parisian life from the Île de la Cité ever since its completion in 1345. The novel’s action takes place during the late-15th-century reign of King Louis XI, at a time when Notre Dame was just over a century old. By 1831, however, Notre Dame was showing her age; she had suffered significant damage from anti-clerical rioters during the French Revolution, and Hugo was concerned that many of Paris’s treasures of Gothic architecture might be permitted to crumble into dust.

It is for that reason that Hugo includes in the novel extensive passages like this one in support and defense of Gothic masterpieces like Notre Dame: “[T]hree kinds of ravages nowadays disfigure Gothic architecture: wrinkles and warts on the skin – these are the work of Time; wounds, contusions, fractures, from brutal violence – these are the work of revolutions from Luther to Mirabeau; mutilations, amputations, dislocations of limbs, restorations -- this is the barbarous Greek and Roman work of professors.” Read this book as Notre Dame de Paris, looking at all the characters in terms of how their lives relate to the life of the cathedral – rather than focusing solely on one (albeit undeniably interesting) character – and you will suddenly find that you are reading an entirely different, and much richer, novel.

You’ll still get to spend time with the same unforgettable characters, of course. Pierre Gringoire, the aspiring poet, may reflect Hugo’s own belief in the power of words and literature to bring about positive change. There is pathos in Gringoire’s hopeless love for the Romani (“Gypsy”) woman Esmeralda; Hugo, whose liberal and reformist frame of mind made him sympathize with all who suffered oppression, focuses on the anti-“Gypsy” prejudice among the people of medieval Paris, as when the character of Gervaise says that the Romani people’s “teeth are long enough to eat little children. And I would not be surprised if La Esmeralda were to pick a bit now and then, though she has such a small, pretty mouth. Her white goat plays so many marvelous tricks that there must be something wrong at bottom.” I’ve never seen this person do anything wrong, but she simply must be doing some awful thing, because it suits me to think so. Hugo captures the nature of prejudice in a single line of dialogue.

It is Esmeralda’s fate to be beautiful, and – paradoxically – her misfortune to be loved. She is loved by Gringoire, whom she marries to save him from the wrath of the Truands, the professional criminals whose “Court of Miracles” Gringoire accidentally wanders into; but she is indifferent to his love, and regards him only as a rather feckless friend. She is loved by Quasimodo the bell-ringer, who rescues her from execution in one of the novel’s most famous passages; and the feelings of pity that prompt her to bring water to Quasimodo during his public punishment in front of the church become feelings of appreciation and respect once he has saved her from execution. Most ominously, Esmeralda is loved – or, more accurately, lusted after – by the arch-deacon Frollo, a powerful church official whose vows of chastity go out the stain-glassed window once he has seen Esmeralda dance.

A lifetime of repressed or suppressed lust seethes within Frollo, who at one point in the novel tells Esmeralda that her “superhuman beauty…can come only from heaven or from hell” and concludes, unsurprisingly, that “I perceived the demon’s trap, and had no further doubt that you were from hell, and had come for my perdition.” A lust-racked man blames an innocent woman for the fact that he lusts after her, and intends to destroy her if he cannot have her. So little has changed since 1831, or since 1470, or since the first time a woman said “no” to a man who desired her without loving her.

But what of Esmeralda herself? She has a heart; whom does she love? Tragically, Esmeralda has given her heart to Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers. A bold cavalryman and leader of archers, Phoebus is a veritable Apollo for good looks and gallantry; but he is doubly well-named in that he is a false god whose reality belies his quasi-divine appearance. And Esmeralda’s idolatry for Phoebus betrays her at one crucial point in the novel.

Hugo’s dedication to the liberal, democratic spirit of la République française emerges in his portrayal of King Louis XI. Known historically as le rusé (“the Cunning”) and l’universelle aragne (“the Universal Spider”), King Louis emerges as a capricious figure, granting clemency and ordering executions as the whims of the moment move him. Esmeralda, rescued from execution by Quasimodo, enjoys the benefits of sanctuary within Notre Dame, but the king orders that “The witch must be hanged” and subsequently asks the Virgin Mary to forgive him for violating the sanctuary of her cathedral, asking that she “Forgive me then for this time, our Lady of Paris!” and assuring her that “I will never do so again, and I will give you a beautiful statue of silver, just like the one I gave last year to our Lady of Ecouys. Amen!” Thus, with a Judas Iscariot-like bribe of silver, the King of France is prepared to deliver an innocent woman over to the gallows. In the time when Notre Dame de Paris was published, the corrupt post-Napoleonic Bourbon dynasty had just been replaced by a constitutional monarchy; and in his portrayal of the King, Hugo makes clear his support for the spirit of Liberté, égalité, fraternité.

In a novel filled with torture and brutality, some measure of justice is achieved; the cruel and hypocritical Frollo gets his comeuppance, and Gringoire’s belief that the power of words can outlast the power of physical force and compulsion gets some measure of vindication. But the cost in innocent human life, by novel’s end, is high; and with the novel’s final image, the reader is reminded in a moving way of Quasimodo’s pure, uncorrupted, hopeless love for the beautiful Esmeralda. Small wonder that Quasimodo has made such an impression upon generations of readers, or that he has been portrayed so memorably on screen by actors like Lon Chaney, Charles Laughton, Anthony Quinn, Anthony Hopkins, Tom Hulce, and Mandy Patinkin.

I read Notre Dame de Paris on a trip to Paris in 2006. My bookmark for the novel is a boarding pass for the flight home (Air France 5870, Paris to Detroit; courteous flight attendants, good wine with dinner). My impressions of Paris now are the same as my impressions of Paris back in 2006, as I walked the battlements of Notre Dame and looked out, from a gargoyle’s-eye view, upon la ville lumière, the City of Lights. Hugo’s Notre Dame de Paris captures in 1831 what people all over the world know about Paris today — that for all the tragedies and traumas that Paris has suffered over its long history, the spirit of Paris lives on, imperishable.

[Велислав Върбанов · Rating 5 out of 5]

„Мисълта тогава беше свободна само по този начин, затова тя се изказваше без задръжки само върху книгите, наречени сгради. Не приемаше ли форма на сграда, проявеше ли безразсъдството да се покаже под рискованата форма на ръкопис, тя щеше да бъде изгорена от ръката на палача.“


Разкошно ново издание на тази великолепна книга! Виктор Юго по чудесен начин е отдал почит на легендарната катедрала „Парижката Света Богородица“ и като цяло на значението на архитектурата, разказвайки изключително вълнуваща трагична история с непреходни морални послания. Париж от 15-ти век се оказа сложен и многопластов главен герой в романа, чиято готическа атмосфера приковава вниманието и разгръща пред читателите достоверна картина на епохата... Писателят елегантно е преплел драматичните житейски пътища на колоритни личности с красиви описания на френската столица и любопитни исторически препратки. Превъзходно изграденият образ Квазимодо невероятно силно ме впечатли! Разбира се, покрай съдбите на основните персонажи, Юго същевременно е представил и обществените несгоди в средновековната феодална система. Възхитен съм от всеобхватните достойнства на „Парижката Света Богородица“ и определено ще се завръщам към този гениален роман...






„Но забележително нещо — цялата публика, така шумна само преди няколко минути, сега чакаше прилично, уповавайки се на думите на комедианта. Това доказва вечната истина, че най-доброто средство да накараш зрителите да чакат търпеливо е да ги увериш, че представлението ще започне незабавно.“


„Гренгоар, обигран философ на парижките улици, беше забелязал, че най-приятно се мечтае, когато вървиш след хубава жена, без да знаеш накъде отива тя.“


„Необятната каменна симфония, колосално дело на един човек и на цял народ, единна и сложна като „Илиадата“ или като народния епос, с който се родее, дивно произведение, за което са дали своя принос всички сили на една епоха, от всеки камък на което блика под стотици форми въображението на работника, овладяно от гения на художника строител. Човешко творение, с една дума, могъщо и плодотворно като божествените творения, защото е заимствало техните две най-характерни черти — разнообразие и нетленност.“


„Цялата история на втората половина на средновековието е написана в гербове, както историята на първата половина — символиката на романските църкви. Гербовете представляват йероглифите на феодализма, кои��о заместват йероглифите на теокрацията.“


„Той забеляза, че на този свят освен научните теории на Сорбоната и стиховете на Омир има нужда и от чувства. Че лишен от обич и нежност, животът се превръща в бездушен, скърцащ и убийствен механизъм.“


„Всичко това се дължеше на Квазимодо. В Египет той щеше да бъде почитан като божество на този храм. Средновековието го смяташе за демон. А той бе всъщност душата на църквата.“


„— Все пак и вие би трябвало да разберете, че вчера бе празник — забеляза добродушната Удард.
— Аз добре го разбрах — отговори отшелницата. — Втори ден вече нямам вода в стомната си. — И тя добави след кратка пауза: — Празник беше и хората ме забравиха. Така и трябва. Защо да мислят за мене, когато аз не мисля за тях? На угаснал въглен — студена пепел.“


„Хиляди други оскърбления, дюдюкания, клетви, смехове, а сегиз-тогиз и камъни валяха над нещастника.
Квазимодо беше глух, но не беше сляп, пък и народната ярост беше достатъчно енергично изразена не само в думите, но и по лицата. Впрочем хвърлените камъни обясняваха буйните смехове.“


„Когато плъхът почне котки да яде,
градът Арас пред краля чело ще сведе:
и необятното море когато
замръзне и се вледени сред лято.
ще видите върху леда, прострян пред вас,
че ще излязат всички от Арас завчас.“


„Тогавашното висше общество рядко се интересуваше от името на осъдения, когото караха по улицата, а низшите слоеве охотно се гощаваха с тази просташка храна. Екзекуциите бяха обичайно улично произшествие, също като котлонът с жарава на баничаря или скотобойната на месаря. Палачът бе един вид, касапин, само че по-изкусен.“


„Постепенно в душата на Есмералда се възвръщаше спокойствието. Безмерната горест, както и безмерната радост са бурни чувства, които не траят дълго.“


„— Значи, Гренгоар, вие никога не сте завиждали на тези хубави синчета във военни униформи?
— За какво да им завидя, ваше преподобие? За тяхната сила, за оръжието или за дисциплината им? Предпочитам независимостта и дрипавата си философия. Намирам, че е по-приятно да съм глава на муха, отколкото опашка на лъв!“


„В многолюдните и дори в столичните градове нямаше единна централна власт, която да установява порядъка. Феодализмът беше устроил много интересно тези огромни градове общини. Градът представляваше сбор от хиляди феодални владения, които го разделяха на всевъзможни по форма и големина части. Там бяха в сила хиляди най-противоречиви разпореждания или, с други думи, ни едно.“


„Гренгоар я хвана за ръка, другарят му взе фенера и тръгна напред. Девойката бе зашеметена от страх и се остави да я отведат. Козичката ги следваше, подскачайки, толкова доволна, че вижда отново Гренгоар, че го спъваше на всяка крачка, провирайки рогца между краката му.
— Такъв е животът — казваше философът всеки път, когато тя го спъваше. — Най-добрите ни приятели често ни подлагат крак.“


„Тогава отшелницата дочупи и преви с ръце ръждясалите краища на пречките. В някои моменти женските ръце придобиват нечовешка сила.“


„Глухият звънар се бе облегнал на мястото, където до преди малко стоеше архидяконът, и не сваляше поглед от единственото нещо, което съществуваше за него в този свят сега. Той стоеше безмълвен и неподвижен, като поразен от мълния, и неспирен поток сълзи се стичаха тихо от окото му, което до този момент беше проляло само една-едничка сълза.“

[Piyangie · Rating 2 out of 5]

I'm now quite resigned to being disappointed in books that are written by my favourite classical authors. It looks like I'm in the process of discovering at least one book by each of them to my dislike. The Hunchback of Notre-Dame is Victor Hugo's contribution to that lot. But it is still disheartening when a book you liked as a teen becomes a total nightmare as an adult. Perhaps it is not fair for me to draw a comparison like that, for I understand now that what I've read and liked as a teen was an abridged version of the book. And of course, I loved the Disney movie too. But the complete unabridged book is unlike either of them.

I have many grievances against this book; the first is the length. This story could have been told in half of the words than that he had used. There were too detailed descriptions of the Notre-Dame architecture and the medieval society and politics in general. It was important for Hugo to describe medieval society and politics and the general architecture of Notre Dame, but it needn't be painfully detailed. A succinct description would have been ample to serve the purpose. The irrelevant and excessive details made the story secondary, and the story proper didn't begin until half the book is gone.

The second is the tone of Hugo's writing. It didn't suit the tragic side of the story. There should be some gravity to carry the idea of tragedy in a tragic story, but instead, the writing was light and impassive for the most part. There was also some satire which I thought most unsuited. The whole tone of the book made me devoid of emotion. I couldn't pity the innocent persecuted Esmeralda nor Quasimodo, a victim of a different sort. If I felt anything, it was only the utter loathing for the antagonist, Dom Frollo, and anger toward Phoebus whom I also considered an antagonist.

The third was my dissatisfaction with the flow of the story which was time and again disrupted by Hugo's love for description and explanations. Because of this, the pace of the story was quite disturbed. Likewise was my reading experience. Instead of being taken on a smooth straight road, I was taken on a rough road with many a bend in which I jostled this way and that way till my head was swimming. It was tiring and to be quite honest I had to resort to a chapter or so of another book just to feel alright.

This doesn't mean that the book was flawed. I still liked the story. My venting here rises from my being unable to enjoy it as I wished. I felt Hugo has robbed my pleasure with his Dickensian style of verbosity and his impassive tone.

More of my reviews can be found at http://piyangiejay.com/

[Chelsea · Rating 3 out of 5]

ok... i'll be honest. i hated the first 150 pages and had i not been reading it for book club i would have abandoned it. about 300 pages in i started to think it was okay. around 400... i really liked it. at page 450 i couldn't put it down. i stayed up till 2am last night finishing it.

so... is it worth the painful first half to get to the second half? now that i've done it... i would say so.

victor hugo could have used a good editor. pages and pages of diatribes and descriptions that made me feel like pulling my hair out - but the story is chilling and wonderful. i understood after reading it why there are so many abridged versions. :)

of course its a piece out of history... melodramatic and predictable... but one expects that.

all in all... i felt satisfied going to bed last night having read such a great book. still... next time i read Hugo... i will be prepared for a big front end investment.

[Dalia Nourelden · Rating 5 out of 5]

تقييمى ٤.٥


أحدب نوتردام واحدة من أشهر الكلاسيكيات الفرنسية . وكما نعرف إذا ذكرت كلمة كلاسيكية فمعناها انك ستجد رواية مليئة بالتفاصيل والشخصيات والوصف . وأحدب نوتردام ليست شاذة عن هذه القاعدة لكنها ككثير من الكلاسيكيات تستحق القراءة و تحتوى متعة بلا حدود . كنت متخوفة من أسلوب فيكتور هيجو لكنني وجدته أبسط مما تخيلت فكانت القراءة تجربة جميلة ، استمتعت برفقتها وغصت بداخلها . وستكون بداية معرفة حقيقية بفيكتور هيجو . وتشجعت جدا لقراءة البؤساء بنسختها الكاملة.



في البداية ستجد الكثير من اسماء الشخصيات وستتوه فيما بينهم من المهم ومن سيكون مجرد شخصية عابرة؟؟ لكن لا تقلق ستهدأ الأمور فيما بعد وسنستمر في الغالب مع الشخصيات الرئيسية والشخصيات المؤثرة في حياتهم .

" لاتنظرى إلى الشكل،
بل انظري إلى القلب أيتها الفتاة،
إن قلب شاب جميل هو في الغالب قلب مشوه،
فهناك قلوب لا تحتفظ بالحب
أيتها الفتاة ،
شجر الصنوبر ليس جميلاً،
وليس كشجر الحور ، طويلاً
ولكنه يحتفظ بأوراقه الخضراء خلال الشتاء
********
وا أسفي على حالي !
لم كل هذا الكلام ،
لقد اخطأ القبيح في الاحتفاظ بحياته ،
فالجمال لا يحب غيرالجمال ،
وشهر نيسان لا يشبه أشهر كانون.
*****
الجمال شئ كامل ،
والجمال قادر على كل شئ،
والجمال هو الشئ الوحيد المكتمل
****
لا يطير الغراب إلا في النهار،
ولا تطير البومة إلا ليلاً،
أما البجعة فتطير ليلاً ونهاراً

احدب نوتردام في لحظة فكرنى برجاء عليش وكتاب لاتولد قبيحاُ .ومعاملة الناس للشخص اللى بمفهومنا المحدود " قبيح" والتريقة والإهانة والنظرات المتقززة اللى بتدبح اكتر من الكلمات .للأسف احنا بنقول الكلام ومبنفكرش في تأثيره على اللى قدامنا ، مبنفكرش ازاى ممكن نكون بنخلق بكلامنا وحش من جواه مش من بره . لأن المظهر الخارجي ده خلقة ربنا أصلا مش باختيار حد .ساعات بيكون غصب عننا اننا منقدرش نتقبل او نحب ونقرب من الشخص ده بس اللى نقدر نتحكم فيه هو أسلوبنا في التعامل معاه . وانا بكتب الرفيو دلوقتي افتكرت حاجة وهى انى من كام يوم وأنا بره شفت راجل كان وشه فيه زى دمامل او حاجة مش عارفة المهم عنده مشكلة في وشه انا وقتها بصيت الناحية التانية بس مش عشان اشمأزيت من شكله بالعكس انا دعيت لو ده مرض ان ربنا يشفيه بس انا وقتها خفت انه بالصدفة يبص ناحيتى ويلاقينى ببص له فيفتكر انى قاصدة ويتضايق ، خفت فعلا على مشاعره . ودلوقتي فكرت ياترى كام واحد شافه وعلق تعليق سخيف أو كانت نظرته مؤذية؟!

وفكرت في حاجة تانية وانا بقرأ وهى اننا للأسف اللى بيبان لينا من كل إنسان هو الظاهر ، شكله الخارجي ، منعرفش ايه جواه . ياما ناس شكلهم حلو اوى أو بيتكلموا معاك ويعاملوك حلو لكن لو شفت قلوبهم ونفوسهم مش هتقدر تبص ليهم ولا تسمعهم لانهم من جواهم شديدى القبح . والعكس طبعا صحيح ناس كتير ممكن ربنا او الظروف تسببت فى إحداث تشويه أو قبح في شكلهم او مبيقدروش يتكلموا كويس لكن لو شفت قلوبهم ونفوسهم هتلاقيها في منتهى النقاء او ممكن وقتها تلاقي جواهم نقط سودا بس لو دورت هتلاقي سبب النقط دى غالباً بسبب ألمهم من أسلوب ونظرة الناس ليهم .
كنت أتمنى لو أمتلك قوة خارقة تتيح ليا أعرف حقيقة مشاعر وأخلاق ونية اللى قدامى بس دى حاجة ربنا بس هو اللى يعرفها لحكمة ما ويمكن منها انه بيسترنا قدام بعض لعل اللى جواه خبث يتوب ويتغير . بس ده بيحرمنا ساعات من ناس بتحبنا بصدق بس شكلهم مش عاجبنا أو مش قادرين يعبروا كويس عن اللى جواهم ونتسبب في ألم للطرف التانى .
‏
ليه كل الكلام ده ؟
لأن ده هو صديقنا كازيمودو او أحدب نوتردام ، قارع الأجراس . اللى الناس كانت عايزة تحرقه من طفولته وشيفاه تجسد للشيطان بسبب قبحه الشديد وعيوبه الخلقية .

" "كان عبارة عن رأس كبيرة الحجم نما فوقها شعر أصهب كثيف ويحمل الرأس بينهما حدبة، برز أحد جوانبها من الأمام. تتلامس ركبتاه بينما يتباعد فخذاه وردفاه بشكل غريب .....



كان يبدو كعملاق محطم ، جُمعت أجزاؤه بشكل خاطئ، ورُكبت مع بعضها كيفما كان !"

كازيمودو اللى فى لحظة هاج في الناس و جه قدام الشخص اللى تقبله وعطف عليه وركع ونسى كل قوته الجسدية ... كازيمودو اللى أعتبر ان الفتاة اللى سقته شربة ماء والناس كانت بتسخر بيه رغم انها كان متوقع انها أول واحدة تسخر منه وتعذبه إلا انها رغم خوفها واشمئزازها منه في لحظة عطفت عليه وهو مقدرش ينسى اللحظة دى ..

" فتاة جميلة وظريفة وطاهرة. لكنها ،في الوقت نفسه، ضعيفة وقليلة الحيلة، تهرع لإنقاذ هذا البائس الشديد البشاعة والخبث "



وفى المقابل من قبح وكل العيوب اللى في كازيمودو كان العكس تماما في جمال وفتنة الغجرية أسميرالدا .

"كانت فتاة متوسطة الطول ... حسناء سمراء البشرة ، يستطيع الناظر إليها ان يستنتج ان لبشرتها سحنة ذهبية ، كما الرومانيات أو الأندلسيات . لا بد انها أندلسية صغ��رة ، قدماها صغيرتان يلفهما حذاء لطيف .......
شعرها الاسود الكثيف كشلالات "



أزميرالدا اللى ربنا حباها بجمال رائع واللى كان نعمة من عند ربنا لكنه كان نقمة في نفس الوقت عليها .وطبعا مش هننسى عنزتها دجالي 😁

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هل يمكن أن يحب الاحدب ازميرالدا ؟ بالطبع ممكن .
‏ لكن هل يمكن ان تقع ازميرالدا في حب كازيمودو بشكله المشوه ؟! أم ستقع في حب شخص آخر يضاهيها جمالاً؟!
‏
" لم ار قبحي يوماً كما أراه الآن.. حين أقارن نفسي بك... أني أشفق على نفسي. فأنا لست سوى وحش بائس مسكين! وأقل ما قد يحصل، هو أن أخيفك بشكلي الحيواني المشوه هذا . أما أنت ، فأنت شعاع من الشمس وقطرة من الندى. بل تغريد عصفور ! وأنا شئ مخيف ، لا إنسان ولا حيوان ، بل شئ أقسى وأكثر تمرغاً تحت الأقدام، وأشد قبحاً من حصى لا شكل لها !"



هل نستطيع إختيار من نحب ؟
هل نستطيع أن نجعل من نحبه يشعر بالحب نحونا ؟
هل يمكن ان نظل نحب من لا يشعر بنا ولا يهتم بمشاعرنا؟
هل يمكن أن نحب لأن من أمامنا يقوم بتقديم وفعل كل شئ ممكن من أجل سعادتنا ؟
هل يمكن أن يصبح الحب لعنة للمحب وللحبيب ؟
إلى أين يمكن أن يصل بنا الحب ؟
هل الحب يخضع للمنطق ؟؟!!

" الحب كالشجرة ينمو من تلقاء نفسه، ويمد جذوره إلى الأعماق في كياننا كله ، ويتابع اخضراره وازدهاره فوق قلب مفلوج ومهموم.
ومما يصعب شرحه وتفسيره، أنه كلما كانت هذه العاصفة عمياء. كلما ازدادت صلابتها، فهى لا تبلغ ذروتها إلا حين تخلو من المنطق "

وبالطبع لن ننسى أن نذكر الشخصية الرئيسية الاخرى وهو القس كلود فروللو اللى تبنى كازيمودو وأدخله في حمايته منذ طفولته .بحيث يكون في هذا الإحسان ما يكفر به عن سيئات أخيه الصغير جوهان في المستقبل . جوهان الذي شاءت الظروف أن يعتبره كلود كأبنه حين توفي والديه وتركوه رضيعاً يتيماً .
‏
‏
‏
‏وكانت تربيته لكازيمودو في الكنيسة السبب ان كنيسة نوتردام تصبح جزء من نفس الأحدب .
‏
‏" تكونت علاقة ما ، نوع من الصلة بين قارع الأجراس والكنيسة. لقد أعتاد هذا البائس المسكين أن لايرى في العالم شيئا وراء الجدران الدينية التي أظلته، وهو الذي أنفصل عن العالم بحاجزين كأنهما القدر القادر ، مولده المجهول وطبيعته البشعة . فكانت نوتردام بالنسبة إليه، وبصوره متتابعة، تزامناً مع نموه وتطوره ، البيضة والعش ، والمنزل ، والوطن ، فالعالم
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‏ وكان الكاهن السبب في أحداث كتير في حياة كازيمودو و أسميرالدا.
‏فماذا سيحدث لكل منهم ؟ ومالذي سيجمعهم معاً ؟!

٣ / ٦ / ٢٠٢٢

[Maureen · Rating 4 out of 5]

A reread and well worth it!

[Salwa Marwan · Rating 4 out of 5]

من الأعمال القليله إلى شفتها قبل ما أقراها
طبعا الحكايه غنيه عن التعريف
روايه عن التضحيه والحب
روايه تعلمك إن المظاهر أحيانا بتكون خادعه
نهايه صادمه ومختلفه تماما عن عمل ديزني الي شفته قبل كده

المزايا
1- شخصيات مرسومه بقلم عبقري
2- أسلوب سردي هايل
3- وصف عميق للمشاعر
4- نهايه قويه
5- أحداث مشوقه

العيوب
1- بدايه ضعيفه

[Matt · Rating 4 out of 5]

This isn't a review of the book itself, but rather a sampler of its English translations. Since the ratio of English readers of Hugo to English translators of Hugo is perilously close to 1:1, I thought a quick taste test was in order, so I've whipped up this plateau d'amuse-gueules so that you can find your favorite. I've compiled as many versions of the opening paragraph(s) as I could find online; I had no luck unearthing Hazlitt [1833], but most of the others are here. I've ended with Hugo's original French, the essence of which will be surprisingly intelligible after you've parsed it against a couple of the less impressionistic translations. (Just for fun, I've added my own translation at the end, so you can see whether my opinion is worth a crap.)

Please click 'Like' if you found this useful - it will make it easier for other people to find it!

If you want an opinion without having to slog through all these, I think the only ones close to great literature in English are Beckwith [1895] and maybe Sturrock [1978], who seems to follow Beckwith rather closely. Beckwith is quite good, with Sturrock a notch below, and all the rest defacing Hugo as much as his detested 'masons' were then defacing the medieval facade of Paris.

:: Shoberl [1833] ::
On this day 348 years, six months, and nineteen days since the good people of Paris were awakened by a grand peal from all the bells in the three districts of the City, the University, and the Ville. The 6th of January, 1482, was, nevertheless, a day of which history has not preserved any record. There was nothing worthy of note in the event which so early set in motion the bells and the citizens of Paris. It was neither an assault of the Picards or the Burgundians, nor a procession with the shrine of some saint, nor a mutiny of the students, nor an entry of our "most redoubted lord, Monsieur the king," nor even an execution of rogues of either sex, before the Palace of Justice of Paris. Neither was it an arrival of some bedizened and befeathered embassy, a sight of frequent occurrence in the fifteenth century. It was but two days since the last cavalcade of this kind, that of the Flemish ambassadors commissioned to conclude a marriage between the Dauphin and Margaret of Flanders, had made its entry into Paris, to the great annoyance of the Cardinal of Bourbon, who, in order to please the king, had been obliged to receive this vulgar squad of Flemish burgomasters with good grace, and to entertain them at his hotel de Bourbon with a goodly morality, mummery, and farce, while a deluge of rain drenched the magnificent tapestry at his door.

:: Anonymous [19th century, adopted by Everyman's Library] ::
On the 6th of January, 1482, the Parisians were awakened by the noise of all the bells within the triple circuit of the City, the University, and the Town ringing in full peal. Yet this is not a day of which history has preserved any remembrance. There was nothing remarkable in the event which thus put in agitation so early in the morning the bells and the good people of Paris. It was neither an assault of Picards or of Burgundians; nor a shrine carried in procession; nor a revolt of scholars in la vigne de Laas; nor an entry of notre dit tres-redoute seigneur Monsieur le Roi - that is, in plain English, of their most dread lord the King ["In good plain English"!? - Matvei]; nor yet a good hanging up of thieves, male and female, at the Justice de Paris (justice and gibbet having been synonymous in the good old feudal times)[That remark is also actually in the translation - Matvei]. Neither was it the sudden arrival, so frequent in the 15th century, of some ambassador and his train, all covered with lace and plumes. Scarcely two days had elapsed since the last cavalcade of this sort, that of the Flemish envoys commissioned to conclude the marriage treaty between the Dauphin and Margaret of Flanders, had made its entry into Paris, to the great annoyance of Monsieur le Cardinal de Bourbon, who to please the king had been obliged to give a gracious reception to that rude train of Flemish burgomasters, and entertain them, at his Hotel de Bourbon, with one of the rude dramatic exhibitions of the time, while a beating rain drenched the magnificent tapestry at his door.

:: Alger [1882] ::
348 years, six months, and nineteen days ago today, the Parisians were waked by the sound of loud peals from all the bells within the triple precincts of the City, the University, and the Town. And yet the 6th of January, 1842, is not a day of which history takes much note. There was nothing extraordinary about the event which thus set all the bells and the citizens of Paris agog from early dawn. It was neither an attack from the Picards or the Burgundians, nor some shrine carried in procession, nor was it a student revolt in the Ville de Laas, nor an entry of "our greatly to be dreaded lord the king", nor even the wholesale slaughter of a band of thieves before the Palace of Justice. Neither was it the arrival, so frequent during the 15th century, of some plumed and laced embassy. It was scarcely two days since the last cavalcade of this sort, that of the Flemish ambassadors empowered to arrange a marriage between the Dauphin and Marguerite of Flanders, had entered Paris, to the great annoyance of Cardinal Bourbon, who, to please the king, was forced to smile upon all this rustic rout of Flemish burgomasters, and to entertain them at his own mansion with "a very fine morality and farce", while a driving rainstorm drenched the splendid tapestries at his door.

:: Hapgood [1888] ::
Three hundred and forty-eight years, six months, and nineteen days ago today, the Parisians awoke to the sound of all the bells in the triple circuit of the city, the university, and the town ringing a full peal. The sixth of January, 1482, is not, however, a day of which history has preserved the memory. There was nothing notable in the event which thus set the bells and the bourgeois of Paris in a ferment from early morning. It was neither an assault by the Picards nor the Burgundians, nor a hunt led along in procession, nor a revolt of scholars in the town of Laas, nor an entry of "our much dread lord, monsieur the king," nor even a pretty hanging of male and female thieves by the courts of Paris. Neither was it the arrival, so frequent in the fifteenth century, of some plumed and bedizened embassy. It was barely two days since the last cavalcade of that nature, that of the Flemish ambassadors charged with concluding the marriage between the dauphin and Marguerite of Flanders, had made its entry into Paris, to the great annoyance of M. le Cardinal de Bourbon, who, for the sake of pleasing the king, had been obliged to assume an amiable mien towards this whole rustic rabble of Flemish burgomasters, and to regale them at his Hôtel de Bourbon, with a very "pretty morality, allegorical satire, and farce," while a driving rain drenched the magnificent tapestries at his door.

:: Beckwith [1895] ::
Exactly 348 years, six months, and nineteen days have passed away since the Parisians were awakened by the noise of all the bells within the triple walls of the city, the University, and the town, ringing a full peal. Yet the 6th of January, 1482, was not a day of which history has preserved any record. There was nothing remarkable in the event which thus put in agitation so early in the morning the bells and the good people of Paris. It was neither an assault of the Picards or of the Burgundians, nor a shrine carried in procession, nor a revolt of scholars in the vigne de Laas, nor an entry of their most dread lord the king, nor a grand hanging up of thieves, male and female, at the Justice de Paris. Neither was it the sudden arrival, so frequent in the fifteenth century, of some ambassador and his train, all covered with lace and plumes. Scarcely two days had elapsed since the last cavalcade of this sort -- that of the Flemish envoys commissioned to conclude the marriage treaty between the Dauphin and Margaret of Flanders -- had made its entry into Paris, to the great annoyance of Monsieur le Cardinal de Bourbon, who, to please the king, had been obliged to give a gracious reception to that rude train of Flemish burgomasters, and entertain them, at his Hotel de Bourbon, with one of the rude dramatic exhibitions of the time, while a beating rain drenched the magnificent tapestry at his door.

:: Bair [1956] ::
On January 6, 1482, the people of Paris were awakened by the tumultuous clanging of all the bells in the city. Yet history has kept no memory of this date, for there was nothing notable about the event which set in motion the bells and citizens of Paris that morning. It was not an attack by the Picards or the Burgundians, a procession carrying the relics of some saint, an entry of "Our Most Dread Lord, Monsieur the King," nor even a good hanging of thieves. Nor was it the arrival of some foreign ambassador and his train, all decked out in lace and feathers, a common sight in the 15th century. It had been scarcely two days since the latest cavalcade of this kind had paraded through the streets: the delegation of Flemish ambassadors sent to conclude the marriage between the Dauphin and Marguerite of Flanders. To his great annoyance, Cardinal de Bourbon, in order to please the king, had been obliged to give a gracious reception to that uncouth band of Flemish burgomasters and entertain them in his mansion. [Yes, Bair omitted the driving rain drenching the tapestries! - Matvei]

:: Unknown (though after you read this, it will be clear that the translator was Alan Smithee) [Wordsworth Classics edition - perhaps Cobb 1964?] ::
One morning, 348 years, six months, and nineteen days ago, the Parisians were awakened by a grand peal from all the bells, within the triple enclosure of the City, the University, and the Town. Yet the 6th of January, 1482, was not a day of which history has preserved any record. There was nothing remarkable in the event that so early in the morning set in commotion the bells and the bourgeois of Paris. It was neither a sudden attack made by Picards or by Burgundians, nor a shrine carried in procession, nor a student fight in the city of Laas, nor the entry of 'our most dread lord the King', nor even a goodly stringing up of thieves, male and female, on the Place de la Justice. Nor it was it a sudden arrival, so common in the 15th century, of some ambassador and his train, all belaced and beplumed. Only about two days ago, indeed, the last cavalcade of this kind, Flemish envoys commissioned to conclude the marriage treaty between the young dauphin and Marguerite of Flanders, had made entry into Paris, to the great annoyance of Cardinal Bourbon. To please the king, his Eminence had undertaken to give gracious reception to the rough crowd of Flemish burgomasters, and to entertain them at his Hotel de Bourbon with a 'very fine morality, burletta, and farce,' whilst a beating rain was all the time drenching his magnificent tapestries at his portals.

:: Sturrock [1978] ::
348 years, six months, and nineteen days ago today, the people of Paris awoke to hear all the churchbells in the triple enclosure of the City, the University, and the Town in full voice. Not that 6 January 1482 is a day of which history has kept any record. There was nothing noteworthy about the event that had set the burgesses and bells of Paris in motion from early morning. It was not an assault by Picards or Burgundians, it was not a reliquary being carried in procession, it was not a student revolt in the vineyard of Laas, it was not an entry by 'our most redoubtable Lord Monsieur the King', it was not even a fine hanging of male and female thieves on the gallows of Paris. Nor was it the arrival, so frequent in the 15th century, of an embassy, in all its plumes and finery. It was barely two days since the last cavalcade of this kind, that of the Flemish ambassadors charged with concluding the marriage between the dauphin and Marguerite of Flanders, had made its entry into Paris, much to the annoyance of Monsieur the Cardinal of Bourbon, who, to please the king, had had to put on a smile for this uncouth mob of Flemish burgomasters and entertain them, in his Hotel de Bourbon, with a 'very fine morality, satire, and farce', as driving rain drenched the magnificent tapestries in his doorway.

:: Krailsheimer [1993] ::
Just three hundred and forty-eight years, six months, and nineteen days ago today Parisians woke to the sound of all the bells pealing out within the triple precinct of City, University, and Town. The sixth of January 1482 is not, however, a day commemorated by history. There was nothing very special about the event which thus launched the bells and the people of Paris into movement from early in the morning. It was not an attack by Picards or Burgundians, not a procession of relics, not a student revolt in the Laas vineyard, not ‘our aforesaid most dread sovereign Lord the King’ making his entry, not even the fine spectacle of men and women being hanged for robbery at the Palais de Justice in Paris. Nor was it the arrival of some embassy, a frequent occurrence in the fifteenth century, all bedizened and plumed. It was hardly two days since the last cavalcade of that kind, the Flemish embassy sent to conclude the marriage of the Dauphin and Marguerite of Flanders, had entered Paris, much to the annoyance of the Cardinal de Bourbon, who, to please the King, had had to put on a welcoming smile for this rustic bunch of Flemish burgomasters and treat them, in his Hotel de Bourbon, to ‘a very fine morality, satire, and farce’, while torrential rain soaked the magnificent tapestries hung at his door.

:: Liu [2002] ::
Three hundred and forty-eight years, six months, and nineteen days ago, the good people of Paris awoke to the sound of all the bells pealing in the three districts of the Cité, the Université, and the Ville. The sixth of January, 1482, was, however, a day that history does not remember. There was nothing worthy of note in the event that set in motion earlv in the morning both the bells and the citizens of Paris. It was neither an assault of the Picards nor one of the Burgundians, nor a procession bearing the shrine of some saint, nor a student revolt in the vineyard of Laas, nor an entry of “our most feared Lord, Monsieur the King,” nor even a lovely hanging of thieves of either sex before the Palace of justice of Paris. It was also not the arrival of some bedecked and befeathered ambassador, which was a frequent sight in the fifteenth century. It was barely two days since the last Cavalcade of this kind had been seen, as the Flemish ambassadors commissioned to conclude a marriage between the Dauphin and Margaret of Flanders had entered Paris, to the great annoyance of the Cardinal de Bourbon, who, in order to please the King, had been obliged to receive the entire rustic crew of Flemish burgomasters with a gracious smile, and to entertain them at his Hotel de Bourbon with “very elaborate morality plays, mummery, and farce,” while pouring rain drenched the magnificent tapestry at his door.

:: Unknown [CreateSpace edition, 2013] ::
348 years, six months, and nineteen days ago today, the Parisians awoke to the sound of all the bells in the triple circuit of the city, the university, and the town ringing a full peal. The 6th of January, 1842, is not, however, a day of which history has preserved the memory. There was nothing notable in the event which thus set the bells and the bourgeois of Paris in a ferment from early morning. It was neither an assault by the Picards nor the Burgundians, nor a hunt led along in procession, nor a revolt of scholars in the town of Laas, nor an entry of 'our much dread lord, monsieur the king', nor even a pretty hanging of male and female thieves by the courts of Paris. Neither was it the arrival, so frequent in the 15th century, of some plumed and bedizened embassy. It was barely two days since the last cavalcade of that nature, that of the Flemish ambassadors charged with concluding the marriage between the dauphin and Marguerite of Flanders, had made its entry into Paris, to the great annoyance of M. le Cardinal de Bourbon, who, for the sake of pleasing the king, had been obliged to assume an amiable mien towards this whole rustic rabble of Flemish burgomasters, and to regale them at his Hotel de Bourbon, with a very 'pretty morality, allegorical satire, and farce', while a driving rain drenched the magnificent tapestries at his door.

:: and at long last ... ::
Il y a aujourd’hui trois cent quarante-huit ans six mois et dix-neuf jours que les parisiens s’éveillèrent au bruit de toutes les cloches sonnant à grande volée dans la triple enceinte de la Cité, de l’Université et de la Ville.

Ce n’est cependant pas un jour dont l’histoire ait gardé souvenir que le 6 janvier 1482. Rien de notable dans l’événement qui mettait ainsi en branle, dès le matin, les cloches et les bourgeois de Paris. Ce n’était ni un assaut de picards ou de bourguignons, ni une châsse menée en procession, ni une révolte d’écoliers dans la vigne de Laas, ni une entrée de notre dit très redouté seigneur monsieur le roi, ni même une belle pendaison de larrons et de larronnesses à la Justice de Paris. Ce n’était pas non plus la survenue, si fréquente au quinzième siècle, de quelque ambassade chamarrée et empanachée. Il y avait à peine deux jours que la dernière cavalcade de ce genre, celle des ambassadeurs flamands chargés de conclure le mariage entre le dauphin et Marguerite de Flandre, avait fait son entrée à Paris, au grand ennui de Monsieur le cardinal de Bourbon, qui, pour plaire au roi, avait dû faire bonne mine à toute cette rustique cohue de bourgmestres flamands, et les régaler, en son hôtel de Bourbon, d’une moult belle moralité, sotie et farce, tandis qu’une pluie battante inondait à sa porte ses magnifiques tapisseries.

:: Matvei P [2014] ::
It was on this day, three hundred and forty eight years, six months, and nineteen days since, that the people of Paris awoke to the din of all the bells ringing out a grand peal from the triple ramparts of the City, the University, and the Town. Yet the 6th of January, 1482, was not otherwise a day that history records. There was nothing remarkable in the event which, all that morning, had set the bells of Paris and her dwellers so astir. It was no invasion from Picardy or Burgundy, no solemn procession of relics to a shrine, no revolt of scholars from the vineyards of Laas, no entrance of our most dread lord the king, no fine hanging of thieves at the Palace of Justice. Nor was it the sudden arrival, so frequent in those days, of some ambassador, richly brocaded and beplumed. It had been two days since the last such parade -- that of the Flemish ambassadors tasked with confirming the marriage between the dauphin and Marguerite of Flanders -- had made its way to Paris, to the great annoyance of the cardinal of Bourbon, who, to please the king, had had to welcome this bumpkin lot of Flemish worthies to his estate and there regale them with mummeries and farces, as all the while a driving rain drenched the magnificent tapestries at his door.

[Katie Lumsden · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting read – I enjoyed this, though not as much as Les Miserables. The characters were complex and interesting and the ending very powerful, but it didn't quite hold my attention as much as Les Miserables.

[Maziyar Yf · Rating 3 out of 5]

گوژپشت نوتردام ، کتابی است از ویکتور هوگو ، نویسنده سرشناس فرانسوی . کتاب او داستان عاشقانه ای را در بستر پاریس قرن پانزده و با محوریت کلیسا نوترام روایت می کند ، داستانی که سرنوشت افراد و مکان ها به هم پیوند خورده و تقابل میان زشتی ظاهری و زیبایی درونی، نشان داده می شود .
گوژپشت نوتردام روایتی است از پاریس قرن پانزدهم، شهری که در سایه‌ی کلیسا نوتردام، شاهد جدال میان زیبایی و زشتی است. هوگو با قلمی سرشار از جزئیات معماری و تصویرسازی ، کلیسا را به قلب تپنده‌ی داستان تبدیل کرده؛ بنایی که همچون آینه‌ای عظیم، تضادهای انسانی و اجتماعی زمانه را بازتاب می‌دهد. بنابراین ، کتاب هوگو بیش از آنکه روایت یک عشق باشد، پرسشی است درباره‌ی جایگاه زیبایی و زشتی در سرنوشت انسان .

نوتردام و گوژپشت آن :
شاید یکی از قهرمانان کتاب را بتوان کلیسا نوتردام دانست . این کلیسا مرکز بسیاری از رویدادهای مهم داستان است و زندگی دست کم سه شخصیت کتاب به آن گره خورده و در آن جا می گذرد . بنایی عظیم با برج‌های دوقلو که سایه‌ای سنگین بر شهر پاریس می اندازد . قوس‌های نوک‌تیز و دیوارهای سنگی ، شکوه معماری گوتیک را به نمایش می‌گذارند و پنجره‌های شیشه‌ای رنگی، نور را به هزاران رنگ در فضای تاریک درون پراکنده می کنند . مجسمه‌های سنگی و گارگویل‌ها بر دیوارها نشسته‌ و نظاره گر شهر، گویی نگهبانان خاموشی‌اند که داستان‌های انسان‌ها را در حافظه‌ی سنگی خود ثبت می‌کنند. هوگو با جزئیات شاعرانه، اینگونه کلیسا را نه صرفاً یک بنا، بلکه قلب تپنده‌ی روایت ساخته .
نوتردام همچنین نمادی از قدرت و تأثیر کلیسا بر جامعه و شاید تضاد میان ظاهر باشکوه و واقعیت‌های انسانی است. کلیسا گاهی پناهگاهی امن و مخفیگاهی برای آرامش محسوب می‌شود و گاهی هم میدان جنگ. نوتردام در عین زیبایی، خوفناک و مقدس، و همزمان پناهگاه و زندان است، و این تضادها با شخصیت های ساکن آن ، گوژپشت و کشیش همخوانی دارد.

پاریس و گوژپشت آن :
هوگو پاریس را همچون صحنه بزرگ نمایش تاریخ و زندگی انسان‌ها تصویر کرده . خیابان‌های باریک و پرهیاهو، میدان‌های شلوغ و بازارهای پرجنب‌وجوش، در کنار برج‌ها و کاخ‌های اشرافی، تضادی آشکار و شاید همیشگی میان فقر و ثروت را نشان می‌دهند. رود سن همچون رگی زنده در میان شهر جاری است و پل‌های سنگی آن، شاهد عبور مردمان و داستان‌های بی‌شمارآن ها هستند. در قلب شهر هم ، کلیسای نوتردام همچون نگهبانی خاموش ایستاده و سایه‌اش بر همه‌چیز و همه کس گسترده است. اما پاریس ویکتور هوگو ، شهر مهربانی نیست ، یلکه شهری است پرهیاهو و بی‌رحم؛ خیابان‌های باریک و میدان‌های شلوغش بیشتر به صحنه‌ی قضاوت و تماشای رنج انسان‌ها می مانند تا مکان آرامش. در این شهر، جمعیت بی‌احساس در برابر عشق و مرگ، تنها نظاره‌گر می کند ، می‌خندد، محکوم می‌کند و بی‌رحمانه سرنوشت‌ها را رقم می‌زند. پاریس ویکتور هوگو ، موجود زنده ای است که هم می تواند شکوه خلق کند و هم انسان ها را بی رحمانه در گرداب بدبختی و نکبت غرق کند .

داستان کتاب ( خواندن این قسمت ممکن است داستان کتاب را فاش کند )
داستان کتاب همان حکایت تکراری دیو و دلبر یا یک داستان عاشقی است ، دختر جوان زیبایی در مثلث عشقی سه نفر گرفتار می شود ، حال آنکه خود دل در گرو فرد دیگری دارد . اما هوگو تلاش کرده تا این داستان را به چیزی فراتر از یک عشق ساده تبدیل کند ، کازیمودو، گوژپشت مهربان اما هیولا شکل کریه ، عاشق خاموشی است که هیچ‌گاه پاسخی نمی‌گیرد و بختی برای عشق و عاشقی ندارد . فرولو، کشیش گرفتار وسوسه ، کوردل و سیاه همچون کلیسا قرون وسطی، عشق را به جنون و خشونت می‌کشاند و اسمرالدا، دختر کولی، قربانی زیبایی و معصومیت خود می‌شود. همه‌ی این سرنوشت‌ها زیر سایه‌ی کلیسای نوتردام رقم می‌خورند؛ بنایی که مانند قلب داستان، شاهد عشق، رنج و تراژدی انسان‌هاست.
هوگو از چنین طرح داستانی استفاده کرده و داستانی نسبتا قطور نوشته و کوشیده کتاب را با داستان های فرعی و انبوه جزئیات و همچنین حضور شخصیت هایی تاریخی مانند لویی یازدهم غنی کند .

شخصیت های کتاب ( قهرمانان بی‌خِردِ! )
اگر نوتردام و پاریس را قهرمانان اصلی ندانیم، شخصیت‌های برجسته‌ی کتاب دختری زیبا به نام اسمرالدا که دل در گرو فوبوس دارد؛ کاردینال فرولو، وصی و بزرگ‌تر؛ کازیمودو، گوژپشت نوتردام؛ و پیر گرینگوآر، نمایشنامه‌نویس و روشنفکر سرگردان کوچه های پاریس هستند .
«کشیش، گوژپشت و نمایشنامه‌نویس، هر سه دل‌باخته‌ی اسمرالدا هستند. گرینگوآر وقتی می‌فهمد این عشق یک‌طرفه است و به وصال دخترک نخواهد رسید ، کنار می‌کشد. می‌مانند کشیش و گوژپشت؛ یکی کوردل و گرفتار مذهب، دیگری زشت‌ و بی‌خرد. و اسمرالدا، با همه‌ی زیبایی‌اش، بی‌آنکه عاشقی درست‌وحسابی داشته باشد، تنها می‌ماند.
اما باید اعتراف کرد که خواننده هم در درازای کتاب طولانی هوگو ، نشانی از هوش و خرد در اسمرالدا نمی بیند ، او که در برابر دیگران ، جادو و وِرد را محافظ خود می داند و این گونه از خود دفاع می کند ، در برابر فوبوس ، بی پروا برهنه شده و گویی او را به تصاحب خود دعوت می کند . بنابراین اسمرالدا جذاب هم مانند دیگر شخصیت های داستان چندان با هوش نیست . شاید او نماد زیبایی بی‌پناه باشد ، جذاب اما بی‌خرد در میان باقی بی خردان !
این گونه پیدا کردن شخصیت جذاب در گوژپشت نوتردام کمی سخت می شود ، اما حساب بزغاله ای که با اسمرالدا می رقصد و تاریخ روز را می گوید و معما حل می کند را باید از باقی جدا دانست . او به مراتب هم از صاحب خود و هم از دیگران با هوش تر است !

وقتی هوگو خسته می‌کند ، چرا گوژپشت نوتردام چندان جذاب نیست؟
پیام اصلی هوگو این است که زیبایی را نباید در صورت یا اندام معشوق یا عاشق جست و جو کرد ، بلکه در سیرت او باید دنبال زیبایی گشت . از این رو ، گوژپشت ، قهرمان داستان ، گرچه خود ذوب در زیبایی صورت و شاید اندام جوان اسمرالدا شده ، اما زیبایی و صفای باطنی دخترک را ندیده . ( هیچ کدام از شخصیت های دیگر کتاب هم ندیده اند ، شاید هم باطن چندان زیبایی نداشته باشد ) بنابراین روح زیبای داستان خود غافل از حقیقتی شده که هوگو بر آن تاکید داشته .

امتیاز گوژپشت نوتردام بین توصیفات زیبا هوگو از پاریس و نوتردام و داستان قدیمی و کلیشه ای شده نوسان دارد ، این دوگانگی گاه خواننده را مسحور جزئیات معماری و فضای شهرمی کند و گاه هم خسته از کش‌دار بودن روایت و شخصیت‌ های نه چندان جذاب . هوگو در توصیف بناها و شهر، قدرتی بی‌بدیل دارد، اما وقتی به خط اصلی داستان و روابط عاشقانه و تراژیک می‌رسد، روایت رنگ‌وبوی تکرار به خود می‌گیرد . شاید همین تضاد باشد که کتاب را هم‌زمان باشکوه اما سنگین و خسته کننده کرده و خواندنش را به تجربه‌ای دوگانه میان لذت و ملال تبدیل کرده .

[Jenna ❤ ❀ ❤ · Rating 5 out of 5]

Victor Hugo's Les Misérables is one of my all-time favourite novels and so it's odd that I've never read any of his other books. In order to fill in the gaps in my reading, I've decided to read at least one classic a month this year and am so glad I started with The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Wow, wow... WOW! What a freaking good story! It's not quite as good as Les Mis but it's still incredible. At times Hugo can be long-winded and I could have thrown the Kindle across the room when he rambled on for 50 or so pages describing Notre Dame and the view from there. However, as I didn't fancy breaking the Kindle and having to buy a new one, I reined myself in and plowed through it. (Maybe physical books ARE better than e-books in this case?!). After that section, thankfully near the beginning, the book was very enjoyable and gripping. But damn! It will break your heart! Still, Hugo's wit is prevalent throughout and I found myself chuckling several times, even though the story is so tragic. I'm so glad I finally got around to reading this.

[Savasandir · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ceci n'est pas un roman

Diciamolo subito: uno dei primi e più famosi romanzi storici francesi, in realtà, non è un vero romanzo; chi si aspetta di trovare in queste pagine una trama lineare, che proceda ininterrottamente con un inizio, uno sviluppo e una fine, rimarrà profondamente deluso.
Il giovane Victor Hugo scrisse quest'opera con uno scopo assai preciso, che andava ben oltre la mera emulazione di Walter Scott: sensibilizzare la società francese nei riguardi dell'architettura storica, per impedire che molti tesori del passato venissero distrutti.
Il titolo, del resto, la dice lunga; non è Quasimodo o Il gobbo di Notre-Dame e nemmeno Gli amori perversi dell'arcidiacono alchimista, ma Notre-Dame de Paris, la protagonista è lei, la cattedrale gotica. Non si scappa.
Non un vero romanzo, dunque, ma un trattato sulla Parigi medievale, sulle sue vie, le sue piazze, i suoi palazzi e le sue chiese, Notre-Dame su tutte, che Hugo fa rivivere in queste pagine; ma pure una profonda riflessione filosofica sull'importanza della Storia e delle sue vestigia; il resto, i personaggi, l'intreccio, le invenzioni letterarie che pur non mancano, è solo contorno, un orpello necessario per rendere l'opera vendibile al pubblico più vasto, un ninnolo per baloccare il lettore e nulla più.
Le vere digressioni, qui, non sono le descrizioni urbanistiche, le argomentazioni storiche, le riflessioni filosofiche, le denunce politiche, ma le poche trame narrative che emergono come scogli fra una disquisizione e l'altra.

Perché il ventottenne Victor si produsse in tanto sforzo?
Hugo aveva molto a cuore il tema della conservazione dell’architettura storica, qualche anno prima aveva già dato alle stampe il pamphlet Guerre aux démolisseurs! e bisogna ricordare che nel 1831, in Francia, il concetto di tutela del patrimonio era del tutto assente, gli edifici storici erano solo edifici vecchi e, in quanto tali, potevano essere abbattuti senza grosse remore.
Erano anni in cui, dopo le devastazioni e i saccheggi della prima Rivoluzione, i gotici luoghi di culto parigini versavano in uno stato di misero abbandono; Notre-Dame cadeva a pezzi e il progetto di demolizione della Sainte-Chapelle per costruire un nuovo padiglione del Palazzo di Giustizia era in via di approvazione.
Il rischio di perdere gran parte del patrimonio storico-architettonico fu concreto, e fu anche merito dell'esegesi del Medioevo racchiusa in questo romanzo se l'opinione pubblica parigina si scosse e la politica le venne dietro: nel 1834 Prosper Mérimée fu nominato Ispettore Generale dei monumenti storici, iniziarono grandi campagne di studio che aprirono la strada, a partire dal decennio successivo, alle teorie ed alle pratiche di restauro di Viollet-le-Duc (che probabilmente conosceva a memoria il romanzo di Hugo, tant’è che ne copiò l'espressione "libro di pietra" per descrivere le architetture storiche), teorie che poi si riverberarono in tutta l'Europa continentale, fino a far assurgere il gotico a "stile nazionale" francese.

Le idee di Hugo sulla tutela sono ovviamente figlie del loro tempo, e se oggi il ripristino di una forma originaria andata perduta nel corso dei secoli è -o dovrebbe essere- considerato un modus operandi non più corretto, nella sua accezione più ampia il pensiero di Hugo è tutt'ora condivisibile, perché non si può distruggere un patrimonio che non ci appartiene, che era dei nostri antenati e sarà dei nostri posteri, solo in nome del progresso o del cambiamento del gusto collettivo; questa è una lezione che Parigi non ha mai imparato del tutto: se il successo di Notre-Dame de Paris contribuì a garantire la salvaguardia dei grandi monumenti gotici cittadini, pochi anni dopo la sua pubblicazione ci avrebbe pensato il barone Haussmann a distruggere quel poco che restava della città storica, per creare i grandi boulevards per cui oggi Parigi è tanto celebre. Nel corso degli anni sono andati perduti per sempre capolavori architettonici come la vertiginosa chiesa barocca di Sainte Anne la Royale, progettata da quel genio di Guarino Guarini, oppure, in tempi più recenti, Les Halles, meraviglioso mercato coperto ottocentesco realizzato in vetro e metallo, demolito solo una quarantina d'anni fa per far posto a un centro commerciale.

Tornando al romanzo, Hugo era pur sempre uno scrittore d'incomparabile talento, ed anche quel minimo di trama che c’è, è comunque degna d'attenzione; soprattutto nella seconda parte la narrazione acquista spessore, l'arcidiacono Claude Frollo è un personaggio che non si dimentica tanto facilmente.
Tuttavia, nonostante la prosa superba, ci sono anche momenti d'involontaria comicità, come quando Esmeralda esclama: "Amo il vostro nome, amo la vostra spada. Su, sguainate la spada, Phœbus, fatemela vedere"; ecco, non siamo tanto distanti dal "bevi qualcosa, Pedro" di marchesiniana memoria.

Nel finale, straziante come solo Hugo sapeva fare, la narrazione subisce di nuovo una battuta d'arresto, proprio sul più bello, per far spazio ad una riflessione sul deterioramento del potere monarchico, ma, bisogna dirlo, gl'impavidi lettori che riescono ad arrivare a quel punto ormai hanno fatto il callo alla prosa di Hugo, alias il Dottor Divago, e non si stupiscono più di nulla.

[Henk · Rating 3 out of 5]

Vibrant scenes, full of irony but also one of the most trope filled books I’ve read. The Hunchback of the Notre Dame is much more like a Disney movie than I expected: predictable, fun and with solid production value a.k.a. writing by Hugo.

Setting
No better way to keep somebody waiting patiently than to swear to them that you will start immediately
This tale, with an almost execution in book two and some miraculous saves and a beauty with an animal companion (Djali the spelling, golden horned and hoofed mini goat) feels so filmic and Disney that it is almost uncanny. That the titular character only appears around page 60 is different than a modern day filmmaker would have it, but for the rest The Hunchback of Notre-Dame feels as formulaic and fun as a Marvel movie. Everyone knows each other, is related to each other, doesn’t know their own identity and dies at the exact same moment, it’s a soap opera like in that sense.

Hugo’s love for medieval Paris and grievances with changes after the gothic era is the longest chapter and clearly shines throughout the novel. Victor Hugo does likes driving the point home in respect to his views on the past, in chapter two we already have two “and then”, “and then”, “and then” paragraphs about some setting in the past. The slightly satiric voiceover from the 19th century providing comments on the tale in the 15th century is interesting and make the book feel quite modern, a bit Jonathan Safran Foer like, a surprisingly easy read.
The supposition, with belief in alchemy, people locked in cells for prayer till they die and witch trials, make the world of Quasimodo still feel very different to Hugo’s or our own times. Also there is a lot of Latin, of which I wonder if it is not an anachronistic device if Hugo. Was French at that time not already a lingua franca?

Ayway, the injustice and haphazard nature of authority (that comes back more prominent in Les Miserables), is exemplified here with a deaf judge, and stands in stark contrast to the love Hugo shows to the gothic scenery of Paris in the 15th century.
King Louis XI makes a chapter long cameo and perfectly captures the villains in the story: absent minded, vain, fickle and deviously fun to read about, as are the vagabonds in the Coeur des Miracles who are almost slapstick like villains.
Overall Hugo’s attitude to medieval Paris reminds me of Midnight in Paris by Woody Allen where everyone wants to go back to a historic golden age Paris that they’ve just missed.

Characters
Nothing makes more adventurous than a completely empty purse
The characters are filmic as well.
Frollo gets a whole Bruce Wayne backstory in 5 pages and turns out to be the most #metoo character ever, blaming his fall from sanity and into kidnap, murder and worse fully on Esmeralda’s looks.
We have Gringoire, pedantic but pragmatic, with a lot of words, who seems a little bit too much into Djali the mini goat for comfort.
Esmeralda, in the end just being plain stupid for falling for captain Phoebus rather than just showing naïveté in my humble opinion.
And of course Quasimodo, evil because he is wild, wild because he is ugly, is depicted in an almost Frankenstein like way.

Also the way in how events are foreshadowed but the characters don’t seem able to do anything to change their fate (Anankè incidentally being the Greek word for fate that starts of the novel) feels distinctly gothic novel like. However compared to Frankenstein and Wuthering Heights I liked this work of Hugo a lot more because of the humour he incorporates as omniscient narrator, breaking the fourth wall and showing the hypocrisy of his characters. The keen eye of Hugo for the faults and limitations of his characters, for instance vain Phoebus, good for nothing, always student Jehan and naieve Esmeralda, reminds me of Leo Tolstoy.

There are some aspects of the storytelling that struck me as a bit sloppy, like how did Frollo buy something, and give a coin to Phoebus, when his brother took his purse with him? And due to the slapstick nature of some characters I could not really say I engaged emotionally with the "tragic" outcome.

But overall this is a surprisingly fun classic, despite it being predictable for a modern day reader.

[Ian · Rating 4 out of 5]

It’s quite a few years since I last listened to an audio book. Years ago I used to take out audiobooks on CD from my local library and listen to them when I was driving, but then car manufacturers stopped putting CD players in cars, and for various reasons I didn’t get into the habit of listening to audiobooks via downloads, until now. There’s a moderate but limited selection available from same library, so I decided to start with Victor Hugo’s meandering but majestic novel, which I’d never before read. I listened to this in English translation, and I daresay something of the book may have been lost in that.

I suspect that if I had tried to read this rather than listen to it, I might have given up in the early stages, since the opening section featuring Pierre Gringoire’s play seemed rambling and initially directionless. Moreover, I hadn’t realised that Victor Hugo had an interest in architecture that bordered on the obsessional. Entire chapters of the book are taken up with the architectural history of Notre Dame de Paris, the architecture of old Paris, and the role of architecture in culture. I found the last of these was a bit of a struggle to get through.

But I was won over by the story, which is magnificent. With four thousand reviews on this site at the time of writing, I’m not going to spend too much time on adding comments. The complex and interconnected stories of the main characters; the memorable characters themselves; the fantastic descriptions of medieval Paris; the two stories of romantic obsession; the associated story of controlling sexual obsession; and the sense of inexorable fate within the novel; altogether make it easy to see why this has become one of the most famous tales of all time. Stick with it, and it all comes together!

[Evripidis Gousiaris · Rating 5 out of 5]

Δεν χρειάζεται να πω πολλά γιατί η ιστορία είναι γνωστή. Θα πω μόνο ότι σε καμία περίπτωση δεν το περίμενα ΤΟΣΟ ΩΡΑΙΟ. Τόσο έντονο. Με μια του φράση ο Victor Hugo δημιουργούσε εκατοντάδες συναισθήματα.
Ο Κουασιμόδο προσηλωμένος και φυλακισμένος στον ναό Notre-Dame και εγώ προσηλωμένος και φυλακισμένος στις σελίδες του βιβλίου.
Διαβάστε το!

[Claire Admiral · Rating 5 out of 5]

★★★★★ 5 stars

Masterpiece.

[Trish · Rating 3 out of 5]

If these stones could speak …

Victor Hugo wrote this book in 1829, largely to make his contemporaries more aware of the value of the Gothic architecture, which was neglected and often destroyed, only to be replaced by new buildings or defaced by replacing parts of buildings in a newer style (such as the beautiful glass window of Nôtre Dame).

The actual French title translates to „Our Lady in Paris“ as it is not really about Quasimodo but about the cathedral of Nôtre Dame.

Now, in order to understand the core story, I have to go somewhat into detail. For those, who don’t want to know, I recommend skipping this paragraph, fair warning.

We find ourselves in Paris in 1482.
Archdeacon Frollo is torn between his oaths and his obsessive lust for the gypsy Esmeralda. He therefore instructs Quasimodo to kidnap Esmeralda. Quasimodo, a half-blind and meanwhile also deaf hunchback, loving Frollo ever since he took Quasimodo in when his mother abandoned him as a child, does as he’s told. However, Quasimodo is stopped by Captain Phoebus and his guards and is captured by them. Subsequently, he is sentenced to be flogged and turned on the pillory for an hour, followed by another hour’s public exposure. During this ordeal, he almost dies of thirst but Esmeralda, of all people, saves him by giving him water - which makes him fall in love with her.
Frollo, meanwhile, driven half mad by jealousy, tries to kill Captain Phoebus and, when that fails, frames Esmeralda for the attempted murder since she keeps refusing him. Quasimodo saves her from the gallows by swinging down from Nôtre Dame and taking her into the cathedral, claiming sanctuary for her. The leader of the gypsies then tries to rally the citizens of Paris to free Esmeralda before the Parliament can vote to deny her the right to sanctuary. However, Quasimodo mistakes their motives and repels them while thinking that the King’s men are there to help. Eventually, Esmeralda and Quasimodo are betrayed by Frollo, Esmeralda being handed over to the guards and hanged. Frollo, truly mad now, laughs while watching from a balcony high up on Nôtre Dame, driving Quasimodo to push him off to his death. Then, Quasimodo vanishes (it is implied that he dies also, holding Esmeralda's body in a comforting embrace).

This is not the entire story, not by far. But it is the core and what is usually addressed in movie adaptations and perhaps more than future readers want to know in advance (which is why I wrote that warning above).

It has to be stated that Quasimodo does not feature too often in this story. The reason being that the story is more about the structure of the cathedral, its timelessness and what it witnessed ever since it was built. The author was trying to make the point that mere men don’t have the right to destroy or - through inaction - allow to come to harm such a magnificent and important piece of architecture. Nevertheless, it is a love story and one of the most tragic ones at that. It features all the elements relevant at the time: the aloof upper society including the uncaring ruling parties, the lower levels of society such as beggars and gypsies, artists, conflicted and not-to-be-trusted members of the clergy, outcasts. In short: the puppets and puppet masters.

The book impresses with the author’s impeccable writing style, rich with lively descriptions that place one firmly amongst the characters. The author also effortlessly throws in historical information as decoration to describe the timelessness of structures and of works of art.
Albeit this being a tragic romance, it is also definitely a satire full of sarcasm shown in people using gatherings in the church to gossip and make fun of others, or shown in how the people here react to current events and inventions:
„Printing will kill bookselling.“ since it supposedly is a „wretched“ German invention. *lol*
Not to mention the social criticism that continuously exposes ludicrous customs, vanity, hypocrisy and other character weaknesses.

Like Dumas, Hugo allows a sharp look at the times, at the different levels of society and politics but also at peoples’ characters and occupations. Unlike Dumas, however, Hugo doesn’t quite manage to successfully walk the knife’s edge between bringing the surroundings and times alive through detailed descriptions, firmly placing the story through adding relevant historical information and clubbing the reader to death with too much information that has no immediate merit whatsoever. Nevertheless, it is an important piece and I very much enjoyed Bill Homewood's narration once again.

[Dani (IG: danilector) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Si Victor Hugo pudiese pasear por las calles de París en la actualidad y ser consciente de los últimos acontecimientos, probablemente se le saltarían las lágrimas al presenciar el incendio que sufrió Notre Dame en el 2019, cuando parte del tejado se derrumbó y varias estructuras quedaron gravemente dañadas. Su personaje principal en la novela, ese que actuaba como testigo y guardián de los secretos de la sociedad parisina, quedaba envuelto en llamas ante el horror de los espectadores.

La catedral, que sobrevive al paso de la historia y a los cambios arquitectónicos con la misma majestuosidad inicial, será en este caso observadora de las vicisitudes de Quasimodo, un jorobado que utiliza el edificio como hogar y refugio, y de Esmeralda, una joven gitana que se gana la vida bailando en la calle.

La lectura no ha sido un camino sencillo. Hugo combina una trama social y política con largas aclaraciones técnicas sobre arquitectura y sobre la sociedad francesa durante el siglo XV. Ambas partes son magistrales y de una calidad literaria sobrecogedora. Sin embargo, se tiene que estar preparado para estos cambios de ritmo abruptos y cortes en la trama inesperados. Una vez se acepta este juego, el autor te adentra de una forma increíblemente realista en ese entramado de calles y clases sociales durante la época medieval.

Es curioso como además Victor Hugo parece utilizar su perspectiva decimonónica sobre la monarquía francesa para evidenciar la realidad de la época: los reyes no se preocupaban de su pueblo y actuaban como entidades opresoras, por lo que era inevitable presenciar revueltas populares constantemente, que se servían de su fuerza y su mayoría para combatir las injusticias.

Y si algo se encuentra en la novela, son injusticias. Tan antiguas unas como actuales otras. El autor no sólo retrata actitudes medievales, sino que también define a personajes racistas y misóginos, que moverán los hilos del devenir de la historia.

Tal vez Victor Hugo siga observando los cambios sociales y arquitectónicos de París, en forma de gárgola esculpida en piedra, atenta al paso del tiempo y con una voz silenciosa que puede sentirse desde todos los recovecos de la capital. Sea o no sea verdad, el autor nos dejó una carta de amor brillante a su ciudad y una historia que si sólo pudiese definirse con una palabra, esa sería Anatkh.