As of today, I have a mere 173 pages to go in the 1463-page unabridged version of Les Misérables. Although reading it was quite a monumental task this summer, I recommend the full version to anyone who thinks they could suffer through 2-3 months of a single novel. I'm not going to tell you what I though about it, etc., because one, I'm not done with it, and two, a masterpiece of genius like this doesn't even deserve the opinion of some nerdy 21st century youth. But I'll just say it's probably the best (well, that's a bit strong...how about top 5?) novel I've ever read, and this is coming from someone who does not make such claims lightly. Qualitative criticism aside, what I'll write about here is the sense of place in this great novel.
When reading historical fiction in the manner of a Hugo or Dumas, it is imperative for one to submerse oneself in the historical context. For Les Misérables, I tried to get familiar with the majority of the events surrounding the French Revolution and the 50-60 year period of turmoil following 1793. So much of the story is intertwined within this political-historical context that such a priori knowledge is really almost required to glean the most abundant profit from the novel. Even so, Hugo manages to reference about a million people and places of French history that only a history major or knowledgable native would be able to catch. (If God is in the details, then Les Misérables is divine.) Well, any fan of the novel, or musical (or film, I daresay), will know of the events centered around the barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, as the story reaches its dramatic climax. If you haven't read the book or seen the musical, knowing any of this won't ruin anything for you (but if you need an excuse to stop reading, this is it). The Paris insurrection of 1832 is historical fact, waged by the citizens of democratic humanity against the waning grip of divine right, and of the many barricades that republican insurgents erected on June 5th, the one opposite the then Corinth bistro on the Rue de la Chanvrerie was most insignificant when compared with the rest of the city. It is undoubtedly for this reason that Hugo chose it as the site for his story. Hugo, throughout the entire novel, gives immaculate and incredibly accurate geographical descriptions of Paris--of its roads, its neighborhoods, its buildings, even its sewers. While reading, its easy to become lost in the labyrinth of names and places. Names can mean nothing. But all it takes is a map to make a hazy picture a little bit more defined. So, naturally, I went to Google maps.
The Rue de la Chanvrerie does not exist today; in fact, Hugo remarks in the novel that it didn't exist in his day. He describes its location in comparison with his modern (ca. 1860) Paris:
Parisians who, today, on entering the Rue Rambuteau from the side of Les Halles, notice on their right, opposite the Rue Mondétour, a basket maker's shop...Here were the Rue de la Chanvreire, which the old signs spelled Chanverrerie, and the celebrated bistro Corinth...Those who would like to accurately picture the confused blocks of houses standing at that time near the Pointe Saint-Eustache, at the northeast corner of the markets of Paris, Les Halles, where the Rue Rambuteau now begins, only have to imagine touching the Rue Saint-Denis at its summit, and the markets at its base, an N, of which the two vertical strokes would be the Rue de la Grande Truanderie and the Rue de la Chanvrerie, and the Rue de la Petite Truanderie would make the transverse stroke. The old Rue Mondétour cut the three strokes at the most awkward angles. With the result that the labyrinthine web of these four streets, within a space of four hundred square yards, between the markets and the Rue Saint-Denis, in one direction, and between the Rue du Cygne and the Rue des Prêcheurs in the other direction, made seven little islands of houses, oddly intersecting, of various sizes....
Here is where I enlisted the help of our crazy friend Google maps. I didn't really know anything about Parisian geography, but I eventually pinpointed the general area of the barricade, relative to Paris as a whole (in the south central portion of the map is the Jardin du Luxembourg, where Marius frequented in his day-dream walks; the purple tag is Les Halles, the area of the barricade; *NOTE*--click on the picture to make it huge):
Then it was a question of making sense of this ridiculously accurate description. Luckily, I came across a section of a map of old Paris showing the above streets as they are described. This site had a lot more things that connected Paris with the novel, but alas, it is in French. For all who are literate:
But here is the map (red star represents location of Corinth/barricade):
Then it was a question of realizing 21st century Paris relative to the one of 1832 (with the Rue de la Chanvrerie where it would be today):
And finally, here is what Google street view says is at the site of the barricade now:
Also, here is the modern view of the Rue Plumet, the street on which M. Fauchelevent and Cosette had their mysterious house with the lovely garden, the house Marius came to cherish:
Some of the other places are quite difficult to discover, since Paris has changed so much. But Google maps? Amazing, but actually incredibly disturbing. Here's a great idea--let's make satellite footage of our freaking homes and neighborhoods availabe to internet stalkers and technology-savvy criminals! But seriously, come on.
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