The Count of Monte Cristo

When I was fifteen years old, a sophomore in high school, I was taught English and Literature by the most influential teacher of my learning career. She was unpredictable and edgy, and she quickly worked her way up to 'Favorite Teacher' status (Honestly, anyone who can make the temptations of Faustus enjoyable deserves some sort of commendation). It was in that tenth grade english class that I was first introduced to The Count of Monte Cristo. We all complained under our breath when she informed us that it was what we would next be reading. Why would we be excited about such an OLD book? It didn't take long, however, before we were completely engrossed in the dramatic tale of one Edmond Dantes.

Without a doubt, Dantes is the kind of protagonist that a group of angsty teenagers would root for. He is young, brave, and he makes his own way in the world. Not only is he ambitious, but he's got the love of a beautiful woman. What teenage girl wouldn't swoon at the idea?

The Count of Monte Cristo has always been positively remembered. The great plot, the likeable Dantes, and the fascination of my peers were all fondly brought to mind when I stumbled across a copy of the book at the store. Imagine my surprise when I realized I had only read the abridged version. Thus, my epic journey, through the 1,000+ pages that I had missed in high school, begun. I've been reading bit-by-bit the last month, and I'm about 450 pages into it.

I can say this confidently: It's even better, now that I'm older.