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Loathing, Loving The Hunchback of Notre Dame
- 3 days ago
- 3 min read
Updated: 1 day ago
Book Review
It’s not love at first sight. Far from it. We initially look upon Quasimodo—the severely deformed, deaf, and orphaned bell-ringer of Notre-Dame de Paris—with repulsion. Truly his face is the sort fit for classic monster magazines.
Yet readers and film buffs are curiously drawn to the hideous looking Quasimodo. Much like when we slow down to see if dead bodies are being carted away from a car accident or when we watch a horror film for thrills.
Haven’t we all got a strange chill gazing at Frankenstein or Medusa. Thank goodness we're not strangled or turn to stone watching these scary flicks.
In Victor Hugo’s 1831 French classic, Notre-Dame de Paris, also published as The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Quasimodo is the homely star.
In reading the Penguin Classics edition of Notre-Dame de Paris and watching the vastly different 1939 film, I sympathized with the bell-ringer. Surely it’s a beauty and the beast fairy tale.
Our hearts soften as we learn the “monster” possesses an empathetic heart. We feel for the lonely and disfigured character raised within the towers of Notre-Dame by the cruel and tormented archdeacon Claude Frollo.
Despite his ugly exterior, Quasimodo possesses loyalty and tenderness. The beautiful Esmeralda, a young Romani dancer, enters into Quasimodo’s life, awakening deep emotions never experienced before by the bell ringer. He falls in love with Esmeralda after she shows him mercy and gives him water while he is publicly tortured.
Esmeralda stirs desire in several men in the story, including Frollo and the vain Captain Phoebus. Sadly but not unexpectedly, Esmeralda only views Quasimodo as a friend. Her heart belongs to Captain Phoebus.
"Why was I not made of stone like thee?" – Quasimodo in Notre-Dame de Paris
Esmeralda’s sweet innocence and compassion ultimately drive a tragic chain of events fueled by jealousy, lust, and misunderstanding. Hugo artfully uses these intertwined lives to portray the harshness of medieval society and the cruelty of public judgment.
One of the novel’s greatest hallmarks is its vivid depiction of Paris and the celebrated Catholic cathedral itself. On a trip to The City of Light, I was awestruck by the gothic architecture, with its breathtaking stained glass windows, amazing stone carvings, and soaring spires. Hearing the church bells ring, I half imagined Quasimodo there protecting the holy site, which was restored following a 2019 fire that engulfed the spire and most of the roof.
Notre-Dame is a living presence throughout the gothic story. Hugo describes the epic towers, glorious bells, shadowed staircases, and crowded streets with great detail. His writing transformed the centuries old cathedral into a literary symbol of history, faith, and artistic wonder. The beloved building, in many respects, acts as the soul of the novel.
Like many classic books, the prose feels dense in places, especially in Hugo’s long historical and architectural musings. But these digressions give readers valuable background and insights about the period. More importantly, the author’s passionate pleas ignited a global movement to preserve great architecture.
Today, Notre-Dame de Paris stands as a symbol for the poor, marginalized, and forgotten. It’s a social commentary on our need to value inner beauty and human dignity in an unforgiving world.
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