Les Misérables – Vocal/Piano Selections | Broadway Sheet Music | Piano Accompaniment and Vocal Score | For Singers, Pianists and Musical Theater Fans

by Alain Boublil, Alain Boublil (Composer), Claude-Michael Schonberg (Composer)

This is NOT the book Les Misérables by Victor Hugo but a selection of sheet music from the musical.

This terrific songbook features 14 vocal selections from the beloved Broadway musical: At the End of the Day * Bring Him Home * Castle on a Cloud * Do You Hear the People Sing? * Drink with Me (To Days Gone By) * Empty Chairs at Empty Tables * A Heart Full of Love * I Dreamed a Dream * In My Life * A Little Fall of Rain * Master of the House * On My Own * Stars * Who Am I?. Also includes beautiful full-color photos from the production.

Genres: Music, Classics, Plays, Musicals, Fiction, Theatre, Historical Fiction

84 pages, Paperback

First published July 1, 1987

Reviews

[Jared · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wow! What a such amazing book! I am sad to say that I only read the abridged version of Les Miserable. The full novel (over 1000 pages!!) was waaaayyyy too long for me, and Hugo went into such depth while explaining everything that it bored me. But the abridged version was fantastic! I saw the musical, and loved it even more. I have the piano book and I play out of it often.

My favorite character is Javert, because he is determind, and he is just all out amazing. Even though he is the bad guys. Haha

[Arezoo Alipanah · Rating 5 out of 5]

*Do You Hear the People Sing?* 💕

[Gabrielle Martin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Gabi... is... obsessed... with... Javert... Aaaaak!
I just played Cosette in the musical, and I decided to read the non abridged book. Everyone told me not to, but I didn't listen and boy, am I glad!
I am in 7th grade and Les Miserables is the best book I have ever read. Jean Valjean is such a deep person to learn from and so are all of Victor Hugo's other characters. This book truly shows people the power of all kinds of love, and that what's "right" is not always "right" and "wrong" is not always "wrong" if that makes any sense. Besides, the writing is beautiful and so fluent, that even if you don't understand the meaning, it would be an epic read. With just enough action, diougle, and whatever else you may be intrigued by, this book will be one of the most memorable ones you will ever read. I'd write more, but you simply cannot totally sum up Les Miserables in a single small review. Victor Hugo's book will cernainly stay a well respected clasic for at least another few centuries. There is no book like this.

[Kathleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Has a lot of great songs from the show. Great for the nerd who really wishes she could sing "I Dreamed a Dream" and "On My Own." Super useful for home-alone showstopper belting.

[Sabine Lee · Rating 5 out of 5]

i used to flip through the pages of this and yearn to play the songs in it one day. however i quit piano bc i missed one lesson to work on my econ project in second grade and never went back to lessons. anyways i was trying to look up the actual les miserables book bc i was inspired again by yuna kim’s ICONIC 2013 worlds long program that i vividly remember staying up late to watch in fourth grade. back when womens figure skating was less corrupted and worth watching.

[M. Rahman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Enjoyed every page.

[Susannah · Rating 5 out of 5]

I absolutely love Les Miserables the musical, even if it doesn't have quite the raw emotional impact the novel has. However, the music is undeniably lovely and the lyrics are, on occasion, quite clever. I dislike how some of the characters have been toned down, particularly Eponine and Javert. But I had issues with everyone. See the list below.

Valjean - The musical didn't quite give us the fully-fleshed out complex character we came to know and love from the book

Fantine - I liked her back story with Felix, and I wish the musical had included that

Cosette - We just see her as a beautiful damsel in distress, rather than the brave and intelligent girl she was in the book

Javert - His whole character was toned down. He wasn't the tragic anti-hero, the cynical atheist inspector, torn apart by his misguided sense of right and wrong. Instead, his devotion towards bringing Valjean to justice was credited towards his religious beliefs, which are supposed to be non-existent.

Marius - He's the gorgeous romantic hero, rather than the unlikeable and naive man from the book. I also have an enduring hatred of the line, "Hey Eponine, what's up today?" Please, people, this is 18th century France.

Eponine - Where did the ugly, insane gamine go? She is not supposed to be a pretty girl with a smudge of dirt on her face and arms. And no, Cosette did not steal Marius from Eponine. Marius never loved her and never gave her a thought.

Enjolras - His character I didn't have as much as a problem with. He isn't quite as freakishly passionate in the musical, and his hatred of Grantaire and his friendship with Combeferre was eliminated. But, still, he wasn't completely lost in translation

Despite these changes, Les Miserables the musical is still awe-inspiring and tear-inducing. Properly played by the right actors, it is a force to be reckoned with.

The Dream Cast
Valjean - John Owen Jones
Javert - Earl Carpenter
Fantine - Ruthie Henshall
Cosette - Camilla Kerslake
Marius - Jon Robyns
Eponine - Nancy Sullivan
Enjolras - David Thaxton

Dear me, I intended this to be a good two line review...and now I've written a page long opinion piece on Les Miserables, complete with my dream cast. Really, the bottom line is - Les Miserables the musical is great, the music is lovely and I'd recommend it to anyone.

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is more than just a read - it is a journey through the lives of many complicated characters as well as a journey for the reader himself.

[Elizabeth Qualia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Being a singer and someone who loves musicals, of course I love this book. I bought a copy in England after I watched the Queens theater production of the show.

[Donielle · Rating 5 out of 5]

An amazing musical with a powerful message.

[Andi Hansen]

Slow moving at first, but by page 85 it's a masterpiece. Worth the nearly 1500 pages.

[Felicia DiSalvo]

Continued review of the book lol:

Favorite quotes Pt 2

“It was as though a key had been placed in his hand and a door opened so now he could interpret things he had hated and account for things he had abhorred. He had a clear vision of the hand of Providence, human and divine, in great matters that he had been taught to abominate and great men he had taught to revile. Thinking of the views he had as recently as yesterday, which now seemed buried in the past, he was at once outraged and inclined to laugh.”

“Combeferre was a guide. One was moved to combat the former but to accompany the latter. This is not to say that Combeferre was incapable of fighting; he was ready if need to assail an obstacle and attack it with violence. But it suited him better to make men aware of their destiny by persuasion and the use of reason and precept. Of the two extremes, he preferred enlightenment to conflagration. A bonfire will cast a glow, but why not await the rising of the sun? A volcano sheds a light, but the light of dawn is better. Combeferre perhaps preferred the white purity of the good to the savage splendor of the sublime.”

“Above all he was kind (a matter easily understandable by those who know how closely kindness is akin to greatness).”

“But, skeptic that he was, he had one fanatical devotion, not for an idea, a creed, an art or a science, but for a man—for Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated Enjolras. The anarchic questioner of all beliefs had attached himself to the most absolute of all that circle of believers. Enjolras had conquered him not by any force of reason but by character. It is not an uncommon phenomenon. The skeptic clinging to a believer is something as elementary as the law of complementary colors. We are drawn to what we lack. No one loves daylight more than a blind man.”

“What is admirable in the clash of young minds is that no one can foresee the spark that sets off an explosion, or predict what kind of explosion it will be. A moment of light-heartedness produces a burst of laughter, and then, at the height of the merriment, a serious note is struck. A hasty word or an idle phrase may give the proceedings an entirely new turn, opening up unexplored fields. Chance is the conductor of those youthful symphonies.”

“And then, although he had been no more than a youth when his grandfather had turned him out, he was now a man. He felt like a man. Poverty, we must repeat, had been good for him. Poverty in youth, when it is mastered, has the sovereign quality that it concentrates the will-power upon striving and the spirit upon hope. By stripping our material experience to its essentials and exposing its drabness, it fosters in us an inexpressible longing for the ideal life. The well-to-do young man is offered a hundred dazzling and crude distractions—horses, hunting and gambling, rich food, tobacco, and all the rest—occupations for his baser nature at the expense of everything in him that is high-minded and sensitive. The poor young man struggles to stay alive; he contrives to eat, and his only solace is in dreaming. His only theatre is the free show that God provides, the sky and the stars, flowers and children, mankind whose sufferings he shares and the created world in which he is trying his wings. He lives so close to humanity that he sees its soul, so close to the egotism of the man who suffers to the compassion of the man who mediates, and an admirable sentiment is born in him, of self-forgetfulness and feeling for others. Reflecting on the countless delights that nature showers on minds open to receive them, and denied to those whose minds are closed, he ends, a millionaire of nothing but many. All hatred disappears from his heart as enlightenment grows in him. Indeed, is he really unhappy? No, he is not. A young man’s poverty is never miserable. Any youngster, poor as he may be, with the health and strength, a buoyant stride and clear eyes, hot-flowing blood, dark hair, fresh cheeks, white teeth and clean breath, is an object of envy to any aged emperor. And then, he gets up every morning to earn his livelihood, and while his hands are busily employed his backbone gains in bride and his mind gains in ideas. His day’s work done, he returns to the delights of his contemplative life. He may live with feet emeshed in affliction and frustration, hard-set on earth amid the brambles and sometimes deep in mud; but his head is in the stars. He is steadfast and serene, gentle, peaceable, alert, sober-minded, content with little, and benevolent; and he blesses God for having bestowed on him those two riches which the rich so often lack—work, which makes a man free, and thought, which makes him worthy of freedom.”

“This was the road which Marius had travelled, and, if the truth be told, he was now inclined a little too much to the side of contemplation. From the moment when he felt reasonably sure of earning a livelihood he had slowed down, finding it good to be poor and working the less to allow himself more time for musing. He sometimes spent whole days in reverie, plunged in dreams like a visionary in the debauch of an inward exaltation. He had settled the problem of his life in this fashion: to do as little material work as possible in order to work the more at immaterial things: in a word, to devote a few hours to practical affairs and squander the rest of the infinite. He failed to perceive, believing that he lacked nothing, that contemplation carried to this point becomes a point of sloth, and that, in contenting himself with having secured the bare essentials of life, he was relaxing too soon. It was clear that for a young man of his ardent and energetic nature this could only be a temporary state, and that upon his first encounter with the inevitable complexities of life Marius would wake up.”

“He had reached the time of life when the mind of a young man given to reflection is divided in almost equal proportions between depth and innocence.”

“What message was to be read in her eyes? Marius could not have said. Nothing and yet everything. A spark had passed between them.”

“What he had encountered was not the frank innocent gaze of a child. It was as though a door had suddenly opened and then had been as swiftly closed.”

“That first gaze of a spirit that does not yet know itself is like the first glow of sunrise, the awakening of something radiant but still veiled. Nothing can convey the perilous charm of that unexpected gleam, shedding a sudden, hesitant light on present innocence and future passion. It is a kind of unsolved tenderness, chance-dis-closed and expectant, a snare laid unwittingly by innocence, which captures a heart without intending or knowing what it does, a maid with the sudden gaze of a woman.”

“Avoid extremes, my son,” he was saying. “Steer equally clear of despotism and anarchy.”

“Do away with that caverns of ignorance and you destroy the burrowing mole which is crime. We can sum it up in very few words. The real threat to society is darkness.”

“Humanity is our common lot. All men are made of the same clay. There is no difference, at least here on earth, in the fate assigned to us. We come at the same void, inhabit the same flesh, are dissolved in the same ashes. But ignorance affecting the human substance turns it black, and that incurable blackness, gaining possession of the soul, becomes Evil.”

“He read the newspapers, which set him apart in the world he inhabited.”

“Summer and autumn passed, and winter came. Neither Monsieur Leblanc nor the young girl had set foot in the Luxembourg. Marius had but one thought, which was to see that enchanting face again. He had searched endlessly and everywhere, but without success. He had ceased to be the hot-headed dreamer of dreams, the bold challenger of fate, the youthful builder of futures, his mind teeming with castles in the air. He was like a stray dog, plunged in black despair. His life had become meaningless. Work disgusted him; the vast world of Nature, hither-to so filled for him with light and meaning, with wide horizons and wide counsels, had become an emptiness. Everything, it seemed, had disappeared.”

“He still meditated, for he could not do otherwise, but he took no pleasure in his thoughts.”

“He relapsed more and more into solitude, aimless and apathetic, immersed in his private suffering, twisting and turning within the walls of his grief like a wolf in a cage, searching still for what he had lost and made dull-witted by love.”

“Bodies huddle close together in poverty as they do in cold, but hearts grow distant.”

“If we wish to measure the degree of ugliness by which Fact can be overtaken, seen in the perspective of centuries, we have only to consider Machiavelli. Machiavelli was not an evil genius, a demon, or a wretched and cowardly writer; he was simply Fact. And not merely Italian Fact but European Fact, sixteenth-century Fact. Nevertheless he appears hideous, and is so, in the light of nineteenth-century morality.”

“The memory of an absent person shines in the deepest recesses of the heart, shining the more brightly the more wholly its object has vanished: a light on spirit; a star gleaming in our inward night. The vision wholly occupied the mind of Marius, so that he could think of nothing else. In a remote way he was conscious of the fact that his older suit was becoming unwearable and the new one growing old, that his shirts and hats and boots were all wearing out; that is to say, that his very life was wearing out, so that he said to himself: “If I could only see her one more time before I die!”

“He had but one consolidation, that she had loved him, that her eyes had told him so, that although she did not know his name she knew his heart, and that perhaps, wherever she now was, in whatever undiscoverable place, she loved him still. Perhaps she even thought of him as constantly as he did of her. Sometimes, in those unaccountable moments known to every lover, when the heart feels a strange stirring of delight although there is no cause for anything but grief, he reacted: ‘It is her own thoughts that are reaching me!…And perhaps my thoughts are reaching her.’”

“Fancies such as these, which an instant later he brushed aside, nevertheless sufficed to kindle a glow in him which was something near to hope. Occasionally, and particularly in those night hours which most fill the dreamer with melancholy, he would write down in a notebook which he reserved wholly for that purpose of purest, most impersonal and loftiest of meditations which love inspired in him. In this fashion he wrote to her.”

“But that is not to say that his reason was impaired. The reverse was true. He had lost the will to work and pursue any positive aims, but he was more than the ever-thinking and right-minded. He was calmly and realistically aware, if with a singular detachment, of what was going on around him, even if events and people for whom he cared nothing; he summed things up correctly, but with a sort of honest indifference, a frank lack of interest. His judgements, being almost absolved from hope, soared on a lofty plane.”

“Nothing escaped or deceived him in his present frame of mind; he saw into the depths of life, mankind and destiny. Happy is he, even though he suffers, whom God has endowed with a spirit worthy of both love and misfortune. Those for whom human affairs and the hearts of men have not been informed by this double light have seen and learned nothing. The state of the soul that loves and suffers is sublime.”

“Criminals do not cease their activities because they have fallen into the hands of the law; they are not to be deterred by trifles. To be imprisoned for a crime does not prevent the planning of the next. They are like an artist with a picture hanging in the salon who nevertheless keeps busy in the studio.”

“The reduction of the universe to the compass of a single being, and the extension of a single being until it reaches God—that is love.”

“Love is the salute of the angels to the stars.”

“How sad the heart is when rendered sad by love! How great is the void created by the absence of the being who alone fills the world. How true it is that the beloved becomes God. It is understandable that God would grow jealous if the Father Of All Things had not so evidently created all things for the soul, and the soul for love.”

“It needs no more than a smile, glimpsed beneath the hat of white crepe adorned with lilac, for the soul to be transported into the palace of dreams.”

“Deep hearts and wise minds accept life as God made it. It is a long trial, an incomprehensible preparation for an unknown destiny. This destiny, his true one, begins for man on the first star within the tomb. Something appears to him, and he begins to perceive the finality. Take heed of that word, finality. The living see infinity; the finality may be only seen by the dead. In the meantime, love and suffer, hope and meditate. Woe, alas, to those who have loved only bodies, forms, appearances! Death will rob them of everything. Try to love souls, you will find them again.”

“I encountered in the street a penniless young man who was in love. His hat was old and his jacket worn, with holes at the elbows; water soaked through his shoes, but starlight flooded through his soul.”

“How wonderful it is to be loved, but how much greater to love! The heart looms heroic through passion; it rejects everything that is not pure and arms itself with nothing that is not noble and great. An unworthy thought can no more take root in it than nettle on a glacier. The lofty and serene spirit, immune from all base passion and emotion, prevailing over the clouds and shadows of this world, the follies, lies, hatreds, vanities and miseries, dwells in the azure of the sky and feels the deep and subterranean shifts of destiny no more than the mountain-peak feels the earthquake.”

“If there were no one who loved the sun would cease to shine.”

“As she read this Cosette grew more and more thoughtful.”

“She turned back to the notebook, and now she found the handwriting digital, always the same hand but in ink that varied in intensity, being sometimes dense black and sometimes pale, as happens when one writes over a period of days and adds water from time to time to the ink. It seemed that these were thoughts that had overflowed on to paper, a string of sighs set down at random, without order or selection or purpose. Cosette had never before read anything like it. The manuscript, in which she saw more clarity than obscurity, affected her like the opening of a closed door. Each of its enigmatic lines, shining with splendor in her eyes, kindled a new awareness in her heart. Her teachers at the convent hadn’t talked much of the soul but of earthly love, rather as one might talk of the poker without mentioning the fire. These fifteen handwritten pages had abruptly but gently opened her eyes to the nature of all love and suffering, destiny, life, eternity, the beginning and the end, as though a hand, suddenly opening, had released a shaft of light. She could discern the author behind them, his passionate, generous, and candid nature, his great unhappiness and great hope, his captive heart and overflowing ecstasy. What was this manuscript if not a letter? A letter unaddressed, without name or date or signature, urgent, with no demands, a riddle composed of truths, a token of love to be delivered by a winged messenger and read by virgin eyes, an appointment to meet in some place not on earth, the love-letter to a ghost written to a vision. A calm but passionate unknown, who seemed ready to take refuge in death, had sent to his absent beloved the scent of human destiny, the key to life and love. He had written with a foot in the tomb and a finger in the sky. The lines, falling haphazard on the paper, were like raindrops falling from a soul.”

“And where did they come from? Who was their author? Cosette had not a moment’s doubt. They could have come from only one person—from him.”

“Night is the true setting for all things that are ghosts.”

“We are beginning to grasp the fact that although power can be contained in a boiler, mastery exists only in the brain: In other words, that it is ideas, not locomotives, that move the world. To harness locomotives to the ideas is good; but do not let us mistake the horse for the rider.”

“Love, when it holds absolute sway, afflicts modesty in a kind of blindness. The risks they run, those generous spirits! Often they give their hearts where we take only their bodies. The heart remains their own, for them to contemplate in shivering darkness. For with love there is no middle course: it destroys, or else it saves. All human destiny is contained in that dilemma, the choice between destruction and salvation, which is nowhere more implacably posed than in love. Love is life, or it is death. It is the cradle, but also the coffin. One and the same impulses moves the human heart to say yes or no. Of all things God has created it is the human heart that sheds the brightest light, and, alas, the blackest despair.”

“God decreed that the love which came to Cosette was a love that saves.”

“Loving is almost a substitute for thinking. Love is a burning forgetfulness of all other things. How shall we ask permission to be logical? Absolute logic is no more to be found in the human heart than you may find in a perfect geometrical figure in the structure of the heavens. Nothing else existed for Cosette and Marius except Marius and Cosette. The world around them had vanished in a cloud. They lived in a golden moment, seeing nothing ahead of them and nothing behind. Marius was scarcely conscious of the fact that Cosette had a father; his wits were drugged with happiness. So what did they talk about, those lovers? They talked about flowers and swallows, sunsets and moonrise, everything that to them was important; about everything and about nothing. The everything of lovers is a nothing.”

“The everything of lovers is a nothing. But as for her father, real life, the gang of ruffians, and the adventure in the attic—why bother to talk about all that? Was it even certain that the nightmare had really happened? They were together and they adored each other and that was all that concerned them. Other things did not exist. It is probable that the vanishing of Hell at our backs is inherent in the coming of Paradise. Have we really seen devils?—are there such things?—have we trembled and suffered? We no longer remember. They are lost in a rosy haze.”

“The two of them lived in that exalted state, in all the make-believe that is a part of nature, neither at the nadir nor at the zenith; somewhere between mankind and the angels; above the mire but below the upper air—in the clouds; scarcely flesh and blood, but the spirit and ecstasy from head to foot; too exalted to work on earth but still too human to disappear into the blue, suspended in life like molecules in solution that await precipitation; seemingly beyond the reach of fate; escaped from the rest of yesterday, today, tomorrow; marveling, breathless and swaying, at moments light enough to fly off into infinite space, almost ready to vanish into eternity.”

“They did not ask where this was taking them; they felt that they had arrived. It is one of the strongest demands of mankind that love must take them somewhere.”

“But nothing would make Marius talk. Not even torture could have extracted from him the secret syllables of the name, Cosette. True love is as radiant as the dawn and silent as the tomb. But Courfeyrac perceived this change in Marius, seeing that his very secretiveness was radiant.”

“At the end of life death is a departure; but at life’s beginning a departure is a death.”

[A.K. Frailey · Rating 5 out of 5]

Some books are as much education as entertaining. Les Miserables is one of those books. There are stretches where I learned far more than I ever planned to know about French history and politics, French sewer systems even! But Victor Hugo's passion for France makes even the mundane memorable. The story takes the reader through several journeys, historical and psychological. As the characters struggle with the world, so they grapple with who they are as human beings in their natural setting. An amazing classic that enlarged my understanding. The quote, "It is nothing to die; it is horrible not to live." sums it up beautifully.

[Lucass · Rating 4 out of 5]

To give this epic a 4/5 feels wrong, but to overlook the glaring pacing issues and random stoppages to explain either unrelated or unimportant events would be unfair. Les Miserables, in it's full, is a masterpiece about 75-80% of the time, but anytime Hugo stops talking about the main story with Jean Valjean and Marius and Cosette, to randomly delve into Waterloo, the Sewer systems of Paris, random historical events, and whatever else, the book becomes a slog real quick.
But when this book is on its main plotline, it's some of the best 19th century literature out there.
Basically just read an abridged version

[Mari McR · Rating 4 out of 5]

I prefer this collection to the original because this is more accessible to high school, youth, or middle aged adult attempting a score that is nearly operatic. The keys used in this collection accommodate slightly lower registers, e.g. Fantine's soprano "I Dream a Dream" is transcribed here so that it can be sung by a mezzo-soprano in this collection.

[Avery · Rating 5 out of 5]

Though a hefty read, Les Mis is worth it. I came into this novel as a fan of the musical, but the novel brings so much more to the table. Victor Hugo crafts this epic with historical context, political commentary, and timeless hope that transcends the grim reality of the French people. This novel is inspiring, and its relevance will give readers perspective on current political climate.

[Bookworm_Jess · Rating 5 out of 5]

My only complaint is to say that I wish there were more songs included, but this has several of the heavy hitters, as well as some fun backstory and behind-the-scenes information on the greatest musical of all time.

[Taylor Allgeier-Follett · Rating 4 out of 5]

Why are there so many flats! The edition I got didn’t have drink with me, so I’m knocking off a star

[Miriam Billing]

I own this book of music and it has beautiful scores. I would say it is intermediate.

[Squeddy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fab

[The Literary Jedi · Rating 3 out of 5]

Another classic musical that I am not overly fond of. This is a favorite of my spouse's. Played through on the piano.

[Victoria · Rating 5 out of 5]

great music and i love learning it, especially as a fan but also because i am in a choir

[George · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read this when I was 16. Gave copies to all my buddies. Great for a sheltered teenager to start thinking outside of himself.

[Megan Cho · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was interesting. It took me years to read. So as I matured the book got better. By the end of the book I was engrossed.

[Tupitufadeconfi · Rating 4 out of 5]

I liked it more than I expected 😚😚

[Hembala · Rating 5 out of 5]

best book of my life.

[Aaron Rauschhuber · Rating 5 out of 5]

Les Miserables has to be one of the very best reads in its class. Hugo composed compelling prose which set the mind to thinking and the heart to feeling. Indeed, at times the eyes to weeping. The sheer depth of the characters and the themes reverberate in a seemingly endless echo of emotion and truth. There is a character for everyone to relate to, and really all the characters are relatable. That is one of the greatest strengths of the book. One cares for almost every character, or at least despises them so much as to pay close attention. Personally, I related more to Jean Valjean and Marius, inasmuch as the conflict with past (Jean) and the search for purpose and truth (Marius). To sum up the characters in those words entirely would be a terrible misunderstanding, they have much more depth than those traits alone. There are many more that could be stated. // Hugo's writing style is also curious. I mean that in a good way. He is wordy, but I think that adds to the effect that is presented in the book overall. The effect is oppression. Not only of the political man, or the emotional man, but of a man's very soul. Certain characters are associated with various moods and atmospheres which are appear in the book, all emerging from a thick, fog-like haze of oppression, like a room full of dense smoke. Each carry a little of that smoke in their lungs as the speak and their characters are developed. The heroes are those that can find fresh air, the villains are those who embrace the fog, fearful and bent. Indeed all men are bent to an extent, Jean was just a Bishop away from becoming the likes of Thenadier. Indeed the Bishop was that open window through which the fresh air of Freedom was allowed in. It is freedom Marius seeks, freedom that Jean Valjean seeks, freedom which many seek in their strange ways, twisted and maligned by the cruel world around them. It is through these many ways which each character travels, it is in these characters that Hugo illustrates each path. While the oppression of the lower classes is something a Marxist would readily pick up on, however Hugo adds a twist, a rightfully honest twist, that would make the Marxist supposition a false one. Even the bourgeois are oppressed. Not by the lower, but by the monster of a society they themselves created. They are oppressed by their own depravity of soul. Take Marius' Grandfather for a prime example. He is old and set in his ways, yet he "worships" Marius. Why is that? Marius represents the freedom, the grand quest of freedom, that which has all but abandoned the grandfather. All he has is his material possessions and his pride. Fortunately, through Marius' the grandfather overcomes the parasite of the socialite inside and learns to live outside of his ego and habit. In a sense he becomes a more complete man. The same, in a different sense for Valjean. Jean goes through his life with many aliases, all covering up his identity. There is more depth to this than simply evading Javert. Jean is running away. He is fleeing from himself. He is fleeing from the man which stole the 40 sous from a child. Running from the thief, the slave, the wretch of a man he once was. He becomes these men such as Madeline in order to become a new man, the good man which Bienvenu had wish him to become. It is at the end, in the encounter with Marius, that Jean finally admits his past, faces it, and learns that the fear of it was a dark illusion stimulated by Javert and the threat of injustice. It is in the love given by Cosette and Marius that Jean learns to love himself as well, he is a new man, not nominally but in the soul. He has transcended his past and has reached the present with the hope of the future by his deathbed. His story completed he dies a whole man. He lost himself and found it in the end. Not by his will, but through the love of a young girl and the illuminating truth of a young man.

[Matt Moran · Rating 5 out of 5]

This musical masterpiece was adapted from Victor Hugo's novel, Les Miserables. The music delicately and gracefully retells the tale of an ex-convict Jean ValJean, and his extraordinary journey to redemption and peace. Not one note is missed, as every word goes hand in hand in creating the world, life, and adventures of Jean ValJean.

The story begins in 1815, France, although the book spans over a very long time. The protagonist, Jean ValJean, in pursued by Javert, an inspector, and police official. He is following ValJean in hopes to recapture him after he skips his parole and begins a new life. ValJean must take care of a young girl, Cosette in order to make right what happened to her mother, Fantine. ValJean's Factory Forman kicked Fantine out after she was seen as trouble in the factory by the other workers and did not do what the Forman always asked of her to do. Cosette was raised by the Thenardiers, a couple who owned an inn, that profited mainly from the items stolen from their customers. ValJean takes Cosette from them and then raises her for a long time, until she is nearly an adult. The spark of the French Revolution then disrupts ValJeans plans because the boy that Cosette loves is part of the Friends of the A-B-C, or the main group of the resistance. He then has to decide if he should risk his life to save the boy his daughter loves, or try to escape the law.

I strongly suggest that you look into the story of Les Miserables, or attend the production at the Newton Community Theatre this March. I really enjoy this musical because like most music, it can speak to you. every character is like a part of your own personality that you can identify with! The story is so powerful to most people because we can all remember a time when we had no hope, there was no light, but we rose up and shouted "Vive la France!" or... found some kind of hope, when hope was gone, and had strength to journey on. 5 out of 5.

[Becky · Rating 4 out of 5]

I tried to read this book several times over several years, and (quite honestly) could never get past the bishop. Frankly, I was bored stiff.

Then I tried it again this year - and was astounded. I could not put this book down. Victor Hugo is a master with words. I found myself marking page after page - wanting to memorize whole paragraphs by heart, so I can call them up at a moment's notice. The characters - they breathe. The lessons and morals - they think and live and question.

I will admit that the historical/political sections did wear on me. I was fascinated with the French History section (it led to many an hour on wikipedia ...), but the rants on French language and the sewers lost me.

But despite his verbosity, Hugo won me over. I plan to read this book over and over - and recommend it to any and all who have a heart.

[Kate · Rating 3 out of 5]

From everything I'd head about the play, I was expecting more out of this book than I did. The author seemed to love to just talk and thought his readers wouldn't catch on-- or needed to hear the same story told at least two times. I understand getting a character's different perspective, but he didn't have to spend a whole other chapter explaining the exact same thing again. And Jean Valjean never looks/acts like himself-- did the author think we, as the readers, wouldn't figure out when it was him? I'm going to watch the musical, so hopefully it's better than the book- it was painful to get through some parts of the book! But it was an interesting story, don't get me wrong. But it took way to long to tell it.