géant brisé

When introducing him to his readers, Hugo describes Quasimodo: "One would have pronounced him a giant who had been broken and badly put together again."  

Even before my body was actually broken, there was never a time when I didn't feel exactly this.  I doubt if there will ever be a better interpretation of the book than the 1939 RKO version with Charles Laughton.  At the end, with Frollo vanquished and Esmerelda freed, Quasimodo sits alone in the battlements of the cathedral beside one of its famous gargoyles and laments his life, "oh, why was I not made of stone, like thee." and the camera angle changes to reveal the immensity of the cathedral and the smallness of Quasimodo.  

A feeling of isolation is part of the human condition.  We are every one trapped inside our own minds, spending our lives trying to discover ways to reach someone, anyone, before the lights go out on us.  I've never met anyone, not the strongest, not the most beautiful, not the most intelligent, who didn't have feelings of brokenness, of isolation, guilt, and loneliness.  It's always been my gift and my curse to see that behind the eyes of the people I meet.  It's one of the reasons Southern men tend to make humor out of self-effacing.  "I am weak.  I am broken. But you need strength from me, so I'll make a joke of it."  

There is a giant of untapped potential inside all of us.  Even those who you think couldn't possibly do more have infinitely more potential inside themselves.  Bragging is a combination of recognizing those untapped reserves and an apology for not producing them.  Some of us are better at releasing the giant inside of us, but I've never met anyone who was good at it, and I've met some amazing people.

Broken giant is a lonely existence.  Our closest companions are stone simulacrums, made twisted echos of ourselves, but without heart or emotion.  They have an advantage over us, always, because they do not feel, and feeling will almost always have moments when it tortures us, whoever you are.  

In discussing his career, Laughton said that Quasimodo is the character he played that was the most like him.  That's been interpreted as a reflection of his sexuality or his weight, or his lack of physical beauty, but I always saw it as a reflection of his humanity.  We are all broken giants.  The bells and the gargoyles are much easier for us to communicate with than each other.  We all sit alone on the parapet of life's cathedral, watching the happy people of Paris below us, envious of the unfeeling stone.  Like Quasimodo, whoever you are, life will, at times seem like something for others, but not for you.