Phantom of the Opera (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

their condemnation of Leroux for his weakness in the domain of creating characters; they view his novels essentially as plot-driven and lacking the unity and depth that come with the presence of psychologically rich characters. The novel’s rather unexpected and, as some have argued, unconvincing denouement has only confirmed this criticism, as there is no obvious foundation for Erik’s sudden course of action. Yet while it’s unlikely that anyone would make the argument that Leroux was interested in representing the complexities of the inner workings of the human psyche, and while it is clear that the transformation that occurs in Erik is perhaps overly rapid, indulgent readers can nonetheless make the case that they are prepared for the conclusion by a moral undercurrent of social culpability that runs through the novel.
    The absence of love resulting from Erik’s physical unattractiveness—be it maternal, romantic, or social love—is overtly offered as an explanation for his malevolence. This malevolence is not, however, irremediable. Erik’s plea to Christine—“‘I am not really wicked! Love me and you shall see! ... If you loved me I should be as gentle as a lamb; and you could do anything with me that you pleased’” (p. 214)—explicitly puts forward the possibility of reversal, a reversal that in fact later occurs and is recounted by Erik with touching sincerity. This personal penitence is additionally accompanied by a narrative reparation and rehabilitation that clears him from the majority of the heinous acts attributed to him over the course of the novel. Any “fault” that remains is quickly and calculatingly shifted: For as the Persian’s concluding remarks suggest, far less remediable than Erik’s behavior are the inherent failures of basic human n ature—“He asked only to be ‘some one’ like everybody else. But he was too ugly!” (p. 259)—which is unable to recognize its own accountability in perpetuating human suffering. The reader is subtly and uncomfortably incriminated in this dark social complicity, and has little choice, in spite of any incredulity he or she may have relative to Erik’s sudden “transformation,” but to respond affirmatively to the final question—“Shall we pity him?” (p. 259)—posed by the Persian. Viewed in this way, The Phantom of the Opera can be understood as more than a simple horror story; instead, the novel retransmits a timeless message that evil is learned, not innate.
    The stages of development in the relationship between Christine and Erik that spark the events of the novel’s ending are infinitely more complex—and interesting—than the wan love story of Christine and Raoul that plays out over the course of The Phantom of the Opera. Modern readers are sure to find the character of Raoul, with his endless fits of jealously, ineffectual outbursts, swoons, and whiny rants, to be largely uninteresting and unlikable. For in contrast to the evolution witnessed in Erik, and that of Christine, whose naivete and innocence (reinforced by the account of her fairytale-like, bohemian childhood) are steadily supplanted by an impressive presence of mind and a notable artistic, romantic, and human maturation, Raoul remains—from beginning to end—static. Although his feelings for Christine progress from juvenile infatuation to full-blown passion, he is emotionally and functionally as inept in the last scenes in which he appears as he is in the first. His inadequacies—physical, intellectual, emotional—are in fact such that the Persian must swoop in to orchestrate the attempt at Christine’s rescue all the while managing Raoul’s reckless impulses so that he does not compromise it.
    Any and all Raoul-bashing should, however, be tempered at least in part by an understanding that this character serves as a kind of foil whose purpose is threefold. First, the idyllic, innocent, and fantasy-like romantic behavior of Christine and Raoul—which dates to