When I was a little kid, I loved “The Hunchback of Notre Dame”.
Yes, I read it IN FRENCH when I was about ten. I was living in France so it’s not as foufou as it sounds.
I was a wild and fairly rotten kid and was always either off adventuring on my bike or locking myself in my room to read and block out my parents who I considered intrusive and disruptive. They expected me to do things like go to school or eat dinner.
One of my punishments for wildness and contrarianism was that my step-father bought me dozens of French classics in French. If I wanted to read obsessively, it had to be classics in French
So it was that I came to read Sartre, Camus, Moliere and, more benignly, Victor Hugo, in French, when I was ten. This probably explains a lot. Also, I am grateful for this totally unsentimental education (yes, there was some Flaubert in there too.)
I don’t remember much about The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Except of course Quasimodo and his bell-ringing.
This doesn’t even vaguely resemble the bell atop Notre Dame de Paris. Looks a bit more like The Alamo and so it’s fitting that Esteban, “Stevie”, the Mexican Beach Dog, should be interested in it.
There is no moral to this story.