Love and Revenge – among the most intense, powerful, all-consuming passions in the entire range of human experience. I just did finish Jo Nesbø's The Son, a novel fueled by high octane love and revenge, enough revenge that when a reader turns the book’s last page, the tally of corpses for the morgue runs in double digits. Curiously enough, Nesbø’s novel reminded me of another tale of love and revenge, a classic, one penned by the inventor of the modern revenge tale, Edgar Allan Poe, a tale about a dwarf in the court of a medieval king, a tale with the title Hop-Frog.

The narrator begins by saying he never knew anybody who appreciated a joke as much as the king, a fat, jolly king who’s central reason for living was joking, so much so he surrounded himself with seven equally fat ministers who were accomplished jokers. And, as to the variety of jokes the king most enjoyed, well, the coarser the better, more specifically, coarse jokes that made fun, nay, humiliated and degraded others, and, to add more spice to his fun, if such humiliation and degradation mixed with a good dose of sadism, well, now that would really and truly be funny.

So, recognizing his taste for coarse, sadistic humor, this oh so jolly king had a special variety of jester at his court – a three-in-one object of ridicule, since his jester was not only a funny fatso but also, as the narrator describes, a dwarf and a cripple, a jester by the name of Hop-Frog, so named since Hop-Frog didn’t walk, rather this pint-sized fatso could only move by awkward, jerking jumps. And, for even greater kicks and jollies, the king also kept a second dwarf, a graceful young girl by the name of Trippetta. What fun! And, not surprisingly, emotionally bonded in their common plight, Trippetta and Hop-Frog became fast friends.

Let’s pause to reflect on a few similarities between Poe’s tale and Nesbø’s novel. Both feature a protagonist not only violated but, even more extreme, dehumanized; both tale and novel feature a sadistic villain; and, lastly, both feature a protagonist’s love for another. And these three common themes appear in abundance in Dark Arrows: Great Stories of Revenge anthologized by Alberto Manguel, featuring such tales as The Squaw by Bram Stoker, Emma Zunz by Jorge Luis Borges and A Bear Hunt by William Faulkner. The reason I reference these tales is to underscore the power such a narrative line has for readers – via the magic of literature, we live through the emotions of the violated extracting their revenge and rescuing the love of their life – a deeply moving experience.

Back on Poe’s tale. The king hosts a masquerade ball but is in a quandary: what should he himself do to be original? Events transpire leading Hop-Frog to offer a suggestion: a party of eight can enter the masquerade as escaped wild orangutans. The king jumps at the suggestion – he and his seven ministers will do it!

Such costumed extravaganzas are part of the historic record – case in point: in France during the 14th century, a young French king and his five nobleman buddies covered themselves with tar, flax and animal hair and, taking the role of wood savages, entered a room of masqueraders. The wood savages hooted and howled to everyone’s delight but disaster of disasters: a masquerader's torch came too close – several wood savages caught fire and burned alive. Will a similar fate befall the king and his seven ministers? Read this Poe tale (link below) to find out. And please let this review serve as a double recommendation – one recommendation for Poe’s tale and one for Jo Nesbø’s novel. Revenge doesn’t get any sweeter.

http://poestories.com/read/hop-frog