My thesis was passed to another reader last Friday. I am waiting on pins and needles (or more appropriately daggers and poison) to hear back. So, while we wait,  I thought I might bore you slightly with it today. I’ll keep it short, and Wednesday I will show you how it is STILL applicable today. *buwahahahha* (evil laugh)

I had a class about revenge tragedy during my master’s work. The class was genius and we read Medea, Thyestes, The Revenger’s Tragedy, The Revenge of Bussy D’Ambois, Titus Andronicus, Richard III, and Hamlet. I can’t begin to explain all the different angles the professor tackled, but I was left fascinated with the creative revengers. I wanted to explore how they worked as characters.

Here is the thesis from my introduction: “I intend to examine a few great revenge artists who monstrously pursue revenge with great flourish; the pattern begins with Thyestes and reverberates in Renaissance revenge tragedies, particularly in The Revenger’s Tragedy and Hamlet revealing in each case, a great one who embraces madness as he publicly addresses perceived personal wrongs, undermining his ability to rule the state he is charged to uphold.”

Translation: A leader with an overinflated ego gets his feelings hurt, and in turn acts out an outrageously creative (and usually mad) scheme to get revenge, ruining any chance he has of being a good leader. (No, I don’t know your boss personally and did not include him or her in my research.)

It seems so obvious right? But I have to prove my point using examples from the text, sound logic, etc.

The only play in this list you might be slightly familiar with is Hamlet—you know, “To be or not to be,” “good night sweet prince,” “To thine own self be true,” and “get thee to a nunnery.” Spoiler alert: Hamlet (and nearly everyone else) dies at the end, but only after producing a one-man show that could have knocked even Cher off the stage in Vegas. 

Tune in Wednesday when we’ll examine a modern example—all names will be changed to protect the guilty.