Read as part of The Infinite Variety Reading Challenge, based on the BBC's Big Read Poll of 2003. 
 I have spent the last few weeks-ever since finishing War and Peace-reading Modern Classics, of which genre I am rather new to and not at all enjoying as much as others have lead me to believe I would, and I have never felt a love for Classic Literature so deep within my heart as I did when I finished reading The Count of Monte Cristo. I still retain a hope that a Modern Classic that I enjoy as much as I do pre-20th works will pop up somewhere, but I am thinking it is becoming an increasingly unlikely scenario. 
 The Count of Monte Cristo is a behemoth of French 19th Century Literature of a decidedly vengeful flavour. I have read very little French literature, having spent most of my time on the English variety, but this book still retains some very English-type Classic Literature qualities (I would presume the translation had a little to do with this) and read true to the Classical style. Descriptive yet punctual, with large amounts of dialogue that are not just diatribes or means to translate the plot to the reader. 
 Edmond Dantes is a poor unfortunate soul whom fate seems not to like as he is betrayed by men he has no reason to dislike-or so he thinks-and is thrown in to the Chateau d'If and the key is thrown thereafter (but in a different direction). Edmond Dantes-later the Count of Monte Cristo-is a most marvellous man, with many flaws, many perfections and many wonders. I enjoyed him immensely, as I did most of the characters. I find that women in Classic Literature are treated in varying ways, but Dumas has a kind of Dickensian way about his writing of women: they are not weak or placid or there only to be abused or looked at, but there again they are often very 19th Century in other ways. Very few people can make me feel a sympathy for the Upper Classes of society and Dumas appears to have done it. 
 Another side to Classic Literature that I love is the world-building. Whilst most of the land that we read about in these books still exist today, Classics evoke the true sense of how they were over a hundred years ago and I rarely feel that in other types of books. You can describe a place in Scotland for a Scottish Noir Crime Thriller as detailed and grimy as you want but I rarely get the sense of the place as a whole: Dumas truly evokes the destitute calmness of the Chateau d'If, of the spartan and isolated island of Monte Cristo and of the many luxurious abodes of the Count himself. I have not felt as transported with a book like I have with this one. 
 Of course, it was not without fault. I feel almost every single same emotion and opinion on The Count of Monte Cristo as I did with War and Peace and that includes the reasons for not giving a perfect rating. It was too long-it just was. There are plenty of long Classics ranging from 400-700 pages that are perfectly serviced by their Not-1000-Pages and I feel that's where this book fell short. This means that there are paragraphs, here and there-dotted about in no particular pattern-that are utterly tedious and don't contribute to the story very much, if at all. I cannot bring myself to ignore such moments of tedium, no matter how much I enjoy the story, the characters or the plot, because I know-and have read-books that are not this long but are just as well written. 
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