Audiobook Sample

Listen to the sample to experience the story.

Please wait while we verify your browser...

  • Title: Count of Monte Cristo (Version 3)
  • Author: Alexandre Dumas
  • Narrator: David Clarke
  • Length: 54:23:00
  • Version: Abridged
  • Release Date: 10/08/2016
  • Publisher: LibriVox
  • Genre: Fiction & Literature, Classics
  • ISBN13: SABLIB9783636
Hello, audiobook enthusiasts!
There’s something about a great audiobook that feels like a companion on a long road trip. It’s the voice in your ear, weaving a tale as the miles—or in this case, the hours—slip by. I recently embarked on such a journey with *The Count of Monte Cristo (Version 3)* by Alexandre Dumas, narrated by David Clarke, a free audiobook gem from LibriVox that clocks in at just over two days of listening. At first glance, that might seem daunting, but trust me—this is one adventure worth every minute.

I’ll admit, I came to this classic with fresh eyes—or rather, fresh ears. Growing up, I’d heard whispers of Edmond Dantès and his epic quest for revenge, but it wasn’t until I hit play on this audiobook experience that I truly sank into Dumas’s world. The story unfolds like a map of the Mediterranean itself—sprawling, intricate, and full of hidden treasures. Set between 1815 and 1838, it sweeps you from the bustling ports of Marseille to the shadowed cells of the Château d’If, then onto the glittering salons of Paris and the sun-drenched islands of the Levant. It’s a tale of betrayal, hope, and justice, laced with the kind of vengeance that simmers slow and deep.

It reminds me of a time when I was driving through Chile’s Atacama Desert, the driest place on Earth, listening to *One Hundred Years of Solitude*. The narrator’s voice back then wrapped around me like the warm glow of a campfire, turning the surreal landscape into something magical. With *The Count of Monte Cristo*, I found myself on a different kind of journey—one that started on a rainy afternoon in my Brooklyn apartment, curled up with a cup of mate tea, the kind I learned to love while staying with a family in Argentina. As David Clarke’s voice filled the room, I could almost taste the salt of the Mediterranean and hear the creak of a ship’s hull as Dantès plotted his escape.

What struck me most about this story is how it wrestles with the big questions: What does justice really mean? Is revenge a dish best served cold—or at all? Dantès starts as a wide-eyed sailor, betrayed by those he trusts, locked away for fourteen years in a fortress that feels more like a tomb. When he emerges, reborn as the enigmatic Count, he’s a man transformed—sharp-edged, calculating, but still human beneath it all. Dumas doesn’t just give us a swashbuckling adventure (though there’s plenty of that); he digs into the messiness of the human heart. There’s this moment late in the book where Dantès has to decide whether to destroy or forgive, and you can feel the weight of it—like standing at a crossroads in some dusty village, knowing the path you choose changes everything.

That moral tug-of-war hit close to home. A few years back, I stayed with a family in Oaxaca, Mexico, where the grandmother would gather us around every evening to tell stories. Her voice had this quiet power, pausing just long enough to let the lessons sink in. Listening to *The Count of Monte Cristo*, I kept thinking of her—how the best storytellers don’t just entertain, they make you feel the stakes. David Clarke’s narration captures that intimacy. His voice is steady and rich, with a gravitas that suits the Count’s brooding intensity, yet he softens it just enough for Dantès’s early innocence. You can almost hear the wind rattling the prison bars or the clink of coins as the Count’s fortune comes into play.

Now, let’s talk about the audio experience itself. Clocking in at over 54 hours, this isn’t a quick listen—and that’s one of its strengths. It’s unhurried, letting Dumas’s world breathe. Clarke’s pacing is spot-on; he knows when to lean into the tension of a confrontation or linger on a quiet moment of reflection. The recording quality, being a free audiobook from LibriVox, is solid but not studio-polished—there’s the occasional background hum or shift in tone, imperfections that, honestly, add a certain charm. It’s like hearing a tale told by a seasoned traveler in a roadside tavern, rough edges and all. My only quibble? A few secondary characters blur together in his delivery; a touch more distinction in accents or energy might’ve brought them fully to life. But for a free listening experience, it’s hard to complain.

This audiobook shines brightest in its balance of adventure and depth. The plot twists—like Dantès uncovering his treasure or outsmarting his enemies—are pure thrill, the kind that kept me up past midnight, whispering ‘just one more chapter.’ Yet it’s the quieter moments—his despair in prison, his flicker of hope—that linger. Compared to something like *Moby-Dick*, another epic of obsession, *The Count of Monte Cristo* feels more grounded in human connection, less lost in abstraction. It’s a classic that doesn’t just sit on a shelf collecting dust—it demands to be heard.

If you’re new to audiobooks or classics, this is a fantastic place to start. It’s perfect for long drives, lazy weekends, or those nights when you want a story to carry you somewhere else. Fans of Fiction & Literature will love its rich characters and historical sweep, while anyone who’s ever felt wronged will find Dantès’s journey cathartic. Just be ready to lose yourself—it’s a commitment, but one that pays off.

Reflecting on it now, this audiobook experience felt like a personal pilgrimage. It reminded me why I love stories: they’re a way to travel without moving, to wrestle with life’s big questions through someone else’s eyes. Dantès’s transformation—from victim to avenger to something more—mirrors the journeys I’ve seen in people I’ve met on the road, folks who’ve rebuilt themselves after loss. That’s the magic of Dumas, brought to life by Clarke’s voice.

So, here’s to the next tale, wherever it takes us,
Marcus
Marcus Rivera