So, I am 26pgs into The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux, and this is the first time I've read it since I was fifteen years old. I thought to myself that it would be a cool idea to reflect upon everything as I read it so I can keep record of what it was like, coming back, and now having so much more knowledge about the story and its adaptations. I could make comparisons between the book and the movie versions and even decide afterward if I should like to be more of a purist, even though I enjoy varied interpretations.

The first thing I can say, surely, is that I don't remember a single word of these pages. It's almost like I'm reading it for the first time and it's, amazingly, about all the subjects that would fascinate me. Most of the main characters have been described at this point, and it honestly feels a lot like ALW's musical so far. Except I know it won't stay that way.


Foreword
Leroux sets up his story in a way I find clearly marks a creative mind. I think I'd heard that he was one of the pioneers of mystery novels, but I could be wrong. All I know is that it seems he's had some time to develop skill in the genre, as he employs a tack that seems to always work wonders - combine fact with fiction. That is what gives this prologue its charm and beckons me to continue. (And I think having just read it, my writing's sophistication has gone up 10pts. XD)

Whether there were people of these names or not, I'm not sure, but he begins the novel by explaining his interviewing of several Paris Opera "alumni" who experienced a great tragedy and confusion 30 years before the book was written. Those who helped him include Meg Giry, Monsieur Moncharmin, and "The Persian". He gives the impression that something very strange happened at the Opera that very few knew about, and its mark has long since faded, which is really to his benefit given that the story he's about to tell is fiction and would thus be known to no one before they'd read it. XD

He accounts studying Garnier's blueprints of the Opera House and all its secret layers, and searching through the "Archives of the National Academy of Music" to find out whatever happened to an opera singer by the name of Christine Daae, who had disappeared along with Raoul de Chagny and his brother, Phillipe. Also, of his acquiring of a book by the former manager, Monsieur Moncharmin, titled "Memoirs of a Manager", wherein he learns of a "magic envelope", which just makes me giggle because I know Erik had to do with it. He throws in realistic details of how the case's hopelessness to be uncovered was exhausting him and he almost gave up.

And, of course, before he could reach that point, a skeleton is found in an unmarked grave (behind a wall or something?) in the catacombs with an asymmetrical face and a ring with the initials "C.D." He considers this proof that the myth of a 'ghost' who caused the whole fiasco was not a myth at all.

So, "with the help of the Persian's recounting", which fits eerily with the upturning of his research, he puts together a 'true story' with only an author's artistic license as to what was actually said and done in particular order.

Naturally, his hook has landed right in me. :D

* * * * *


Chapter One - Was it the Ghost?
It's in chapter one that things really start to remind me of the musical, the Lon Chaney version, and even the Julian Sands version. The previous opera owners are leaving that night, and ballet dancers, all with air for brains, are freaking out because they have once again seen "the ghost in formal wear".

The ghost had appeared to them in the guise of a gentleman in a black swallow-tailed coat who suddenly stood before them in the hall, without anyone's having seen where he came from. He had appeared so abruptly that it was as if he had come out of the wall.

He moved all through the building like a shadow, spoke to no one (and no one dared speak to him), and vanished as soon as he as seen, so quickly that no one could say how he did it or where he had gone. p.7

The dancers all claimed to have met him in one way or another, and to have been victims of his evil spells. p.7

Sounds very familiar, doesn't it? It does until they mention that the formal wear seems to be worn by a skeleton, with dark sunken in eyes, and sickly skin, tightened around his bones like a drum.

Meg Giry is introduced in this chapter as one of the silly squealing dancers. She's described as having black hair and dark eyes and I was kind of "♥" about that, since it conjures images of my cute lil Mariam. However, she's not with Christine, nor the best of friends with her, in the book. She also seems to hover around an older (?) dancer by the name of La Sorelli. This was a quote about her (Sorelli) I found kind of funny, and reiterates the impression given by the corps de ballet:

As far as brains are concerned, it seems well established that she had almost none. No one held it against her. p.11

They go on to explain more about the ghost. Joseph Buquet, a stagehand, claimed to have encountered it in a stairwell backstage and it frightened the bejeesus out of him. Someone else who I can't recall went down a cellar too far and saw a floating head on fire.

The dancers were then convinced that the ghost had several heads and changed them at will.

As you can see, Leroux just sets it up to be a very amusing experience learning what everyone's going through when the story starts. It's fairly light-hearted, and as I suppose if you didn't know the story well you'd think it might remain that way. But I know a thing or two about Leroux, and he's very good at mixing genres. The book has all elements: comedy, mystery, horror, and a little romance. ;)

He mentions something about a horseshoe which is apparently for good luck or sorts when entering the building that is still there today. I'd have to find out about that if I ever visited the Paris Opera.

Around the end of the chapter, after the dancers all hearing someone outside the door but finding no one in the dark hall, Meg cautiously explains that her mother ushers Box 5 and has to deal with the ghost on a regular basis because he demands use of it during every opera. A funny exchange ensues where she has to explain he doesn't have any suit or head of fire. "He doesn't have anything..." XD

Oh, and to take the fun out of his usual impending doom in most movie versions, chapter one marks the end of Joseph Buquet's life. He's found hanged right over the stage. When they later came to gather his body, he was laying on the floor and the rope was missing, as if the one who had done it didn't want to waste a good rope.

* * * * *


Chapter Two - The New Marguerite
Chapter two is where things really pick up for me. His set-up isn't weak in the slightest.

Although "six months ago, she sang like a rusty hinge," Meg says, an emergency has led a certain Christine Daae to replace Carlotta in Faust, and the whole Opera is fangirling over what a wonderful performance she gave, even surprised that for so long some performer who got no attention was hiding such a magnificent voice.

Opera critic P. de St-V, whatever that means, calls her The New Marguerite, as she brought freshness to the role after Carlotta's "materialistic interpretation".

In order to understand what had happened to her, he had "to assume that she had just fallen in love for the first time." And he continued: I am perhaps indiscreet, but only love is capable of working such a miracle, of causing such a drastic transformation. Two years ago we heard Christine Daae in her competition at the conversatory and she gave us a charming hope. What is the origin of the sublime talent she had today? If it did not came down from heaven on the wings of love, I must believe that it came up from hell and that Christine Daae, like Ofterdingen the mastersinger, has made a pact with the devil! p.17,18

I rather liked this quote, because it sprung up a lot of connections for me. The fact that he mentioned her talent may have come "up from hell" may have otherwise been forced if he weren't obviously playing off the theme of Faust, which is about gaining love through a devil's pact, but the comment also brings a lot of foreshadowing. For most readers, it leaves her talent mysterious, yet I can appreciate it particularly knowing that her talent does come from 'down below'. It almost is a pact with the devil to rely on Erik for help, as she will soon learn.

Also reminds me of the Robert Englund version. Just because they took great pains to make comparisons in the movie with Faust, and so I've heard does the book as well.

Before long, Raoul de Chagny, who will soon be her love interest, hijacks the chapter, and I can honestly say that, so far, he's quite affable to me.

His shyness--I am tempted to call it his innocence--was remarkable. He gave the impression that he had just left the women who had brought him up. He had been pampered by his two sisters and his old aunt, and that purely feminine upbringing had left him with artless manners that had a charm which nothing had yet been able to mar. He was now twenty-one and looked eighteen. He had a little blond mustache, attractive blue eyes, and a girlish complexion.

*snort* at phrase "little blond mustache"* Yeah, but really. He seems nice so far, and I cannot help but picture a less wrinkled Patrick Wilson, who I kind of liked even though he was in a sub-par movie. I'm interested to learn more about book-Raoul and compare him to the movie Raouls.

Despite his attempts, he's realized the night Christine has triumphed that he's 'head over heels in love' with her, this girl who was also his childhood friend, and his older brother Phillipe is quite amused when he already knows the way to her dressing room, battling through a clogged room of admirers to see her after she has fainted -- YES, fainted! -- from pure ecstasy at her standing ovation.

He comes in and is there when she comes to, but she politely orders him, the maid, and the doctor to give her privacy, so Raoul waits in the hallway. By now his fresh-faced love-sickness is a little endearing, but the maid leaves and he figures Christine wanted to be alone so they could talk. Boy, was he wrong. He stands at the door and overhears Erik's first words.

Scarcely breathing, he put his ear close to it to hear what she would answer, and raised his hand to knock. But then he lowered it. He had just heard a man's voice coming from the dressing room, saying in a singularly authoritarian tone, "Christine, you must love me!"

And Christine's voice, quavering and tearful, answered, "How can you say that to me, when I sing only for you?"

Raoul's suffering weakened him to the point where he had to lean against the door. His heart, which had seemed to be gone forever, had now come back into his chest and was pounding loudly.

The man's voice spoke again:
"You must be tired."
"Oh, yes! Tonight I gave you my soul, and I'm dead."
"Your soul is very beautiful, my child," said the man's deep voice, "and I thank you. No emperor ever received such a gift! The angels wept tonight."

At this point, all I can think is,

FLATTERING CHILD YOU SHALL KNOW ME~
SEE WHY IN SHADOW I HIDE~
LOOK AT YOUR FACE IN THE MIRROR~
I AM THERE INSIDE~!

Angel of Music, guide and guardian!
Grant to me youuuur glory~!
Angel of-

Yeah.

The set-up was nearly just like the musical, except Erik is yet to discover Raoul and his interest in Christine. It's also in Raoul's perspective. Instead of being in the room with Erik and Christine, we're outside with our hearts racing. I kind of liked it. At this point, Raoul's unpleasantly surprised, though.

He had just learned love and hatred in the same evening. He knew that he loved; he wanted to discover whom he hated.

But no one but Christine comes out of the dressing room. He acts like a really rash 21-year-old and creeps into her room when she's gone, acting like he can confront the man 'hiding in there', but there is nothing but blackness and his labored breath. On his way out the hall, he passes a few men with a make-shift stretcher covered by a cloth and inquires about it. It's Joseph Buquet's body, which everyone is trying to keep secret from the departing opera owners, who are having a farewell party that night.

The next chapter's title has me expecting I will learn just why they are leaving in the first place. :) Naturally, all things are connected...

I think I like this book lots. :D But it totally reminds me how shit mine is in comparison. I have lots to learn.