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| Scribblings of a mad woman. |
More than a year later, I’ve managed to summon enough
courage to crawl out of my hidey-hole and share a face-reddeningly*
embarrassing incident with you all. And yes, it is related to the second book
we were meant to read and review: The Count of Monte Cristo. Let’s just say I
got lost while trying to navigate this classic.
It may come as a surprise to some that I’ve managed to get
through life thus far without coming across the plot of this book at school,
uni, work or even in film form. Eager to get started, I went to my nearest
bookstore but they didn’t have it in stock. Undeterred, I went to the bookshop
near my work but no luck there either. Instead of doing the sensible thing and
going to the library, I decided I was going to take advantage of the Google
Play store’s generous offer to let me read this book for free on my phone! At
that time, my first ever smart phone was still a shiny new toy and I thought
it’d be fun and frugal to download the book and read it on a tiny 4” LCD
screen. Not paying much attention to the
fine print at the front of the book, I dived into the task at hand with gusto.
I didn’t want to read a summary or a teaser or speak to anyone who may inadvertently
spoil it for me. For whatever reason, I was compelled by my subconscious to
read this book with blind faith and I coerced myself into believing it would be
an adventure letting the pages tell their tale. So when my fellow reviewer –
Monica – asked if I’d reached the part where the Count had escaped from jail, I
hushed her with a: “Please don’t give anything away.”
From the get-go, I found the book difficult to understand.
Characters were popping out left, right, centre and it felt as though there were
many plot twists which I’d have to uncover. I thought I was reading a mystery.
Out came my notebook and pen as I started jotting down character names,
relationships, scenarios and motives. It was all a puzzle and I felt quite the
detective piecing this jigsaw together. As the harsh light of the phone pierced
my retinas and forced me to take the aide of reading glasses, I ignored the
hand cramps and neck spasms as I persevered with the story via the
uncomfortable medium of this tiny gadget. Colleagues kept asking how I was
coming along with this lengthy novel. Totalling at 620 pages I thought it was a
pretty standard length and my quizzical looks were met with their equally
confused ones.
When I finished the book I didn’t feel a hundred per cent
satisfied as there were still a fair few questions my note-taking hadn’t
answered and the book had ended. I felt pretty clever, having figured out who
the villains were and what relationship they all had with the Count of Monte
Cristo but it didn’t quite add up. Trying to ignore the prickle of unease that
was threatening my stomach, I decided I should watch the 2002 onscreen
adaptation of this classic tale. The beginning did not match that of the book.
I stopped watching it, thinking they'd interpreted the word “adaptation” rather
loosely. I found a 1998 TV mini-series, starring Gérard Depardieu, and thought
the French would’ve done justice to Alexandre Dumas’ literary work. But that
too started in the same fashion as the previous film. It was only when I
decided to share this wonderful Google app on Facebook so others could read it
for free as well that I noticed the little note in the description saying in
two volumes. I opened the app on my phone and went through it again. On the
front page, in tiny, grainy font, there it was: Volume 2. I had started the
book in the middle. I had skipped the first 600 or so pages. That’s why it felt
short. That’s why the characters weren’t given backgrounds. That’s why it felt
like a mystery. That’s why every time I described it as such to family and
friends, I was met with perplexed expressions. In my eagerness to tackle this
novel without at least reading a synopsis I had royally stitched myself up for
failure.
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| Oh the shame of it all. |
It just goes to show, there is no such thing a free ticket.
Terms and conditions always apply and for goodness sake, read the freakin’ fine
print. And I should know this, I work in advertising, where dotting the i's and crossing the t's is a daily activity. I'm meant to possess
great attention to detail!
I felt rather despondent and depressed and unfairly angry at
the book. I was in two minds about sharing this sorry saga and cementing my
image as a rash, fumbling clutz. But I feel there needs to be an explanation
for my absence. Since then, I have (stubbornly) gone out and purchased a copy
of the said book. And I will be posting a review of it shortly.
But before that, there is another exciting book I need to
talk about. It’s not a classic yet, but it is bound to become a modern-day
classic. It is Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. This is a book I’ve had
on my shelf for almost a year, and only have gotten around to reading recently.
I’ll be posting my review on it by the weekend. It’s an important book and I
think it needs to be shared, read and spoken about by everyone. (That is, if
anyone will take anything I have to say seriously after this little debacle.)
*Reddeningly apparently isn’t a word. Whatevs.
