BWW Blog: A Letter to Grantaire

Dear Grantaire,

When I first read Les Misérables at the age of 14, I have to admit that you were not my favorite character. That honor went to Enjolras, the marble lover of liberty and leader of Les Amis de l'ABC. In my head, I pictured myself as the blonde, waving the iconic red flag on top of the barricades. Like Enjolras, I simply saw you as the useless man in the back, someone to be ignored in favor of focusing on the cause. What place does a drunkard have in a revolution?

But that changed in high school, some time around sophomore year. Instead of imagining myself as a passionate revolutionary, I saw myself more as the cynic in the corner of the room, muttering poetry to myself. Life had thrown me some curveballs over the past few years and I had lost the optimism I'd grown up with, becoming the skeptic of my friend group. My social circles changed and I found myself the outcast, feeling out of place amongst people who seemed to have their whole lives together.

The moment I found out that I would be playing you in my senior year's fall musical was one of the happiest moments of my life. Finally having a named role - in my last year, no less! - was exciting, especially because I already had a connection with the character. Throughout rehearsals I found myself rereading "The Brick" to figure out more about your characterization and how I should play different scenes. Unfortunately, during the two weeks of performances, I had to deal with the death of a close friend. Each night when I sang your lines in "Drink With Me", I would be brought to tears thinking about the life that she could have lived, the one that had been cut so short just like yours had been.

During the past two years of living in France, I traveled to the locations that the students who inspired your character may have visited during their lives. I tracked down the site of the barricade and where the Musain would have been, now ironically a McDonalds in a giant Metro station. I explored the different universities and walked along the cobblestone streets, trying to imagine what it would have been like for someone my age to be willing to give everything up for a future of liberty, equality, and fraternity.

With everything going on right now, I've somehow felt even more connected to you. How can someone be optimistic in a time where people are getting murdered on the streets and there is little justice to be seen? But luckily, just as you had your Apollo, there are people in this world that I can look up to for guidance and hope.

Maybe this time, the rebellion will truly make the world a better place.

Love,
Kat