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The Revenge Canon: Novels and Films Worth Your While

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Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-sitting-on-the-floor-near-a-couch-10496653/

I couldn’t help but follow up my recent series on redemption, villain, and leader-in-decline posts with a list of worthy revenge stories both in print and on the screen. There are many, and quite a few overlap between mediums. A handful of titles legitimately belong to two categories.

You can also watch my recent YouTube Video on revenge stories to hear more about my thoughts on why we love them and how they serve us.

And if you can think of any titles I’ve missed, please leave them in the comments, and I’ll add them to the list.

NOTE: The headings used to group the titles are based on the event that happened to bring about the desire for revenge.

PART A — THE FILM LIST, TAGGED FOR PROSE ORIGINS

I. Family Murder / Murder of Loved Ones

*The Count of Monte Cristo* (1934, 2002) Novel — Alexandre Dumas, 1844

*Death Wish* (1974) Novel — Brian Garfield, 1972

*The Crow* (1994) Graphic novel — James O’Barr

*Rolling Thunder* (1977)

*Mad Max* (1979)

*Once Upon a Time in the West* (1968)

*John Wick* (2014–)

*Blue Ruin* (2013)

*The Revenant* (2015) Novel — Michael Punke, 2002

*Mandy* (2018)

*Peppermint* (2018)

*Law Abiding Citizen* (2009)

*A History of Violence* (2005) Graphic novel — John Wagner & Vince Locke

*The Nightingale* (2018)

*A Prophet* (2009)

*I Saw the Devil* (2010)

*Rambo: Last Blood* — character originated in David Morrell’s novel *First Blood* (1972), though this installment is an original story

II. Rape / Sexual Assault

*I Spit on Your Grave* (1978)

*The Last House on the Left* (1972) — inspired by Bergman’s *The Virgin Spring*, itself drawn from a medieval Swedish ballad, not a novel

*Ms. 45* (1981)

*Thriller: A Cruel Picture* (1973)

*Promising Young Woman* (2020)

*Revenge* (2017)

*Elle* (2016) Novel — Philippe Djian, *Oh…*, 2012

*The Brave One* (2007)

*Avenged / Savaged* (2013)

*Demented* (1980)

*Freeze Me* (2000)

*Baise-moi* (2000) Novel — Virginie Despentes, 1993

*Her Vengeance* (1988)


III. Kidnapping / False Imprisonment / Captivity

*Oldboy* (2003) Manga — Garon Tsuchiya & Nobuaki Minegishi

*Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance* (2002)

*Lady Vengeance* (2005)

*Prisoners* (2013)

*Ransom* (1996) — remake of a 1956 film built on an original story, not a novel

*The Vanishing* (1988) Novel — Tim Krabbé, *The Golden Egg*, 1984

*Arlington Road* (1999)

*The Hunt* (2020)

IV. Betrayal / Framing / False Imprisonment

*The Count of Monte Cristo* Novel (see above)

*Memento* (2000) Short story — Jonathan Nolan, “Memento Mori”

*Payback* (1999) Novel — Richard Stark (Donald Westlake), *The Hunter*, 1962

*Get Carter* (1971, 2000) Novel — Ted Lewis, *Jack’s Return Home*, 1970

*Harakiri / Seppuku* (1962) Novel — Yasuhiko Takiguchi, ” Ibun Roniki”, 1963

*V for Vendetta* (2005) Graphic novel — Alan Moore & David Lloyd

*The Sting* (1973)

*The Prestige* (2006) Novel — Christopher Priest, 1995


V. Home Invasion / Burglary / Violation of Sanctuary

Straw Dogs* (1971, 2011) Novel — Gordon Williams, *The Siege of Trencher’s Farm*, 1969

*Nobody* (2021)

*Death Sentence* (2007) Novel — Brian Garfield, 1975 (sequel novel to *Death Wish*)

*You’re Next* (2011)

*Funny Games* (1997, 2007)

VI. Abuse / Torture / Oppression

*The Handmaiden* (2016) Novel — Sarah Waters, *Fingersmith*, 2002

*The Seasoning House* (2012)

*Lady Vengeance* (2005) — see above

VII. Bullying / Humiliation / Social Cruelty

*Carrie* (1976) Novel — Stephen King, 1974

*Mean Girls* (2004) — loosely drawn from Rosalind Wiseman’s nonfiction *Queen Bees and Wannabes*, not a novel

*Heathers* (1988)

*Piggy* (2022)

*Let the Right One In* (2008) Novel — John Ajvide Lindqvist, 2004

*The Gift* (2015)

VIII. Systemic Oppression / State Violence / Colonial Revenge

*V for Vendetta* Graphic novel (see above)

*Inglourious Basterds* (2009)

*Munich* (2005) Novel — George Jonas, *Vengeance*, 1984

*Snowpiercer* (2013) Graphic novel — Jacques Lob and illustrator Jean-Marc Rochette’s Le Transperceneige

*Braveheart* (1995)

*The Battle of Algiers* (1966) — drawn from Yacef Saadi’s memoirs, not a conventional novel

*First Blood* (1982) Novel — David Morrell, 1972


IX. Organized Crime / Gang / Cartel Revenge

*Kill Bill Vol. 1 & 2*

*The Limey* (1999)

*Scarface* (1983) Novel — loosely traces back to Armitage Trail’s 1929 novel via the 1932 original

*The Equalizer* series — based on the 1980s TV series, not a novel

*Man on Fire* (2004) Novel — A.J. Quinnell, 1980

*A Bittersweet Life* (2005)

*Outrage* (2010)

X. War Crimes / Historical Atrocity

*Inglourious Basterds* — see above

*Come and See* (1985) — drawn from Ales Adamovich’s wartime memoirs/testimony

*The Nightingale* — see above

*Son of Saul* (2015)

*Red Sorghum* (1987) Novel — Mo Yan, 1986

XI. Supernatural / Mythic / Fantastical Revenge

*The Crow* Graphic novel (see above)

*Pumpkinhead* (1988)

*Drag Me to Hell* (2009)

*Thirst* (2009)

*Candyman* (1992) Short story — loosely drawn from Clive Barker’s “The Forbidden”

*Kwaidan* (1964) Novel — Lafcadio Hearn’s folktale collections

XII. Moral / Philosophical Revenge

*Unforgiven* (1992)

*Mystic River* (2003) Novel — Dennis Lehane, 2001

*Se7en* (1995)

*No Country for Old Men* (2007) Novel — Cormac McCarthy, 2005

*Michael Clayton* (2007)

XIII. Quiet, Devastating, Slow-Burn Revenge

*Blue Ruin* — see above

*The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford* (2007) Novel — Ron Hansen, 1983

*Burning* (2018) Short story — Haruki Murakami’s “Barn Burning”

*Cold Fish* (2010) — inspired by a real Japanese murder case, not a novel

*A Simple Plan* (1998) Novel — Scott Smith, 1993

PART B — PROSE-ONLY: REVENGE NOVELS WITHOUT (or beyond) THEIR FILMS

Organized in the same taxonomy. These either have no major adaptation, or the novel’s reputation/structure stands well apart from any film version.

I. Family Murder / Murder of Loved Ones

***The Count of Monte Cristo*** — Alexandre Dumas (the urtext; worth treating as primary source material in its own right, not just “the book the movie is based on”)

***Gone Girl*** — Gillian Flynn (marital betrayal as the “murder” of a self; revenge is psychological, not physical)

***Wuthering Heights*** — Emily Brontë (Heathcliff’s lifelong campaign against two families is one of literature’s purest slow-burn revenge structures)

II. Betrayal / Framing / Moral Reckoning

***The Talented Mr. Ripley*** — Patricia Highsmith (inverted revenge — the wronged party is barely visible; Ripley enacts a kind of preemptive vengeance against his own exclusion)

***Rebecca*** — Daphne du Maurier (the dead first wife’s quiet, posthumous revenge on the household that replaced her)

III. Rape / Sexual Assault

***Speak*** — Laurie Halse Anderson (revenge reframed as reclamation of voice rather than violence — useful counterpoint for your “soft political” framing)

***A Vine in the Blood*** is niche; better international entries: ***The Vegetarian*** — Han Kang (bodily refusal as a quiet act of revolt against a controlling family structure)

IV. Bullying / Humiliation / Social Cruelty

***Carrie*** — Stephen King (again — the novel’s epistolary structure does something the films can’t: it frames Carrie’s revenge as already-historical disaster reportage, which changes the moral temperature considerably)

***We Need to Talk About Kevin*** — Lionel Shriver (revenge turned inside out — not enacted by the wronged party but inflicted upon one)

V. Systemic Oppression / State Violence

***V for Vendetta*** — Alan Moore & David Lloyd (graphic novel; arguably more political and less romantic than the film)

***The Handmaid’s Tale*** — Margaret Atwood (revenge is mostly deferred/implied — useful for discussing restraint as a craft choice)

VI. Moral / Philosophical Revenge

***Crime and Punishment*** — Fyodor Dostoevsky (technically inverted — a meditation on whether self-appointed justice corrodes the self that administers it; pairs beautifully with *Unforgiven*)

***No Country for Old Men*** — Cormac McCarthy (the novel is colder and more nihilistic than the film; Anton Chigurh is revenge-logic stripped of any moral frame at all)

VII. Quiet, Slow-Burn Revenge

***The Count of Monte Cristo*** (again, it really does belong in two drawers)

***My Sister, the Serial Killer*** — Oyinkan Braithwaite (revenge as inherited family pattern, delivered in a dry, darkly comic register)

This list was created with the help of AI.

The Colorado Columbine: Love, Faith, and Folklore in Bloom

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An important, symbolic plant from Miranda’s Garden—when the reader meets Crystal and Ray, and when Miranda meets Ray for the first time.

Delicate yet striking, the Colorado Columbine (Aquilegia caerulea) sways in the mountain breeze like a secret waiting to be told. Its pale blue and white petals seem almost too perfect for this world, yet its story reaches far beyond beauty—into the realms of symbolism, healing, and myth.

Love and Faith in a Flower
Today, the Colorado Columbine is often seen as a symbol of love and faith. But flowers have a way of wearing different faces through time. In the Victorian language of flowers, Columbine could mean love and faith—or, in another context, betrayal and foolishness. Color, circumstance, and the teller of the tale all shaped its meaning.

Medicine and Caution
For centuries, Columbine found its way into herbal medicine for heart conditions, headaches, fevers, and stomach troubles. Yet beauty can be deceiving—Columbine contains toxic compounds, including cyanogenic glycosides, that can be harmful or even deadly in large amounts. This is one bloom that asks for respect and distance when it comes to physical use.

Legends in Bloom
Across cultures, the Columbine has been a flower of love:

  • In Native American traditions, it was sometimes carried as a love charm.
  • In Greek myth, it’s linked to Aphrodite, the goddess of love.
  • In Norse stories, it’s tied to Freya, goddess of love and fertility.
    Each tradition adds a layer, turning the Columbine into a living tapestry of devotion, attraction, and enchantment.

A Final Thought
From alpine meadows to the pages of myth, the Colorado Columbine whispers a reminder: beauty can heal, inspire, and captivate—but it always carries its own power, and that power must be met with respect.

The Science & Sorcery of Story: How Fiction Shapes Our Minds and Hearts

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Photo by Wolrider YURTSEVEN—Pexels

I’ve read many stories—in both short and novel-length forms—that have touched me, lifted me up, taken me on memorable treks, and enlightened me.

One that I remember having an instant and lasting impact was A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle. In particular, it was the scene in Chapter 11 when Meg and the other kids are on planet Ixchel, and they take part in a “conversation,” without speaking a word, with the Aunt Beasts—a name first given to one particular Ixchel creature with whom Meg has bonded.

As a soothsaying, claircognizant, energy-shifting Word Witch, this is not fiction to me. I read A Wrinkle in Time as an adult, to my kids, and remember the profound sensations I had at the time. Reading that scene depicting a meaningful interaction between characters without the use of dialogue validated my lived experience and confirmed my belief in some humans’ abilities to move through the world a little bit different.

Science has only recently started explaining what storytellers have always known— that words can alter reality. Alan Moore, English author of Watchmen and V for Vendetta, put it this way…

“There is some confusion as to what magic actually is. I think this can be cleared up if you look at the very earliest descriptions of magic… Magic in its earliest form is often referred to as ‘the art.’ I believe that this is completely literal.

“I believe that magic is art and that art, whether that’d be writing, music, sculpture or any other form is literally magic.

“Art is, like magic, the science of manipulating symbols, words or images to achieve changes in consciousness.

“The very language of magic seems to be talking as much about writing or art as it is about supernatural events.

“A grimoire for example, the book of spells, is simply a fancy way of saying grammar.

“Indeed, to cast a spell, is simply to spell, to manipulate words to change people’s consciousness.

“And I believe that this is why an artist or a writer is the closest thing in the contemporary world that you are likely to see to a shaman.

From The Mindscape of Alan Moore—documentary film created and directed by DeZ Vylenz.

Story Is in Our Blood

As Jonathan Gotschall argues in his book, The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human, we are built for narrative. It is deep- and hard-wired in us.

Humans have always spent an astonishing amount of their lives in story. From ancient firesides—when cave drawings were the sole means of communication—to daydreaming to TikTok, watching films to reading books, we pass on not just facts, but meaning.

Gotschall points out that evolutionary psychology says stories were our first survival tech. We need stories to survive.

If art is magic, then stories were our earliest spells—protective charms against chaos.

Fiction as a Flight Simulator for the Soul

Reading fiction is like mental/emotional rehearsal. It lets us experience loss, danger, love, betrayal without the bruises.

The work of Psychologist Keith Oatley, author of Such Stuff as Dreams: The Psychology of Fiction, and others have shown this to be true. Their work also found that empathy increases through reading fiction because we practice living through characters’ experiences.

Writers craft these simulations through the manipulation of words—a precise kind of spellcasting.

The Moral & Emotional Workout

As Gotschall notes, fiction, like dreaming, lets us safely test our values and beliefs against imagined challenges.

Oatley describes fiction as a kind of mental simulator, where readers can try on “possible selves” and inhabit other minds.

This is the shamanic role—guiding people into altered states where they can emerge with new insight.

The Magic Trick of Fiction

Our brains react to fictional experiences as though they’re real. Heart rates rise, tears fall, joy emerges—from symbols on a page.

A spell works by altering consciousness. Fiction does the same. Every novel, every short story, is magic at work.

Your Role as Writer-Magician

As a writer, the page is your ritual space, the pen your wand. The science validates it, but the soul has always known.

When you write, you are not just telling a story—you are changing someone’s mind, heart, and perhaps their life.

What magic will you make today?

The Lily of the Valley: Fragile Bells, Powerful Stories

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Tiny white bells bowing on a slender green stem… The Lily of the Valley (Convallaria majalis) appears to be the gentlest of flowers. But don’t be fooled. This delicate bloom carries both beauty and danger, along with a history of symbolism and folklore that spans continents.

Return to Happiness
Today, Lily of the Valley is most often tied to the idea of renewal—a return to happiness. Maybe it’s the timing of its blooms. Early spring. Maybe it’s the way its gently bobbing flowers feel like a welcome to spring.

Medicine and Poison
Historically, Lily of the Valley was used for heart conditions, headaches, swelling (edema), and even eye infections, to name just a few. But like many plants of myth and medicine, its healing reputation comes with risk. All parts of the plant are poisonous, containing cardiac glycosides, dangerous if ingested. This tiny, delicate flower is best admired, not consumed.

Stories of Folklore
Across cultures, Lily of the Valley has taken on many magical roles:

  • In Germanic lore, it was linked to the goddess Ostara, symbolizing purity and humility.
  • In Greek myth, the nymph Smilax transformed into the flower to escape Apollo’s relentless pursuit.
  • In Scandinavian tradition, it served as a good luck charm.
  • And in fairy tales, its tiny bells were believed to be ladders and cups for the fair folk.

A Final Thought
The Lily of the Valley is a reminder that the smallest things often carry the deepest weight. It embodies joy, humility, and renewal—but also danger if mishandled. A paradox wrapped in a flower, bowing low, yet brimming with power.

Learn more about my upcoming novel, Miranda’s Garden, where this lovely little flower appears.

Fiction as Dream and Why Stories Feel So Real

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A few points from Chapter 1 of Keith Oatley’s, Such Stuff as Dreams: The Psychology of Fiction

Photo by Pixabay

Have you ever noticed how a good novel can feel more vivid than real life? How we slip into the world of the story and, for a time, live there? In his book, Such Stuff as Dreams: The Psychology of Fiction, psychologist Keith Oatley calls this fiction as dream. It’s the foundation of how stories move us, and more specifically, our readers.

Key Takeaways from Oatley’s Chapter 1

  1. Fiction as Simulation – Oatley suggests that fiction works like a mental flight simulator, the same way pilots are trained before heading out for their first several real-world flights. In story, the mental flight simulator allows readers to “try out” life experiences, emotions, and choices without real-world consequences. These simulations allow readers to practice empathy for characters—those both like and unlike them—which leads to building understanding and compassion.
  2. Models & World-Building – Writers don’t just tell stories; they create models of human experience. These models—characters, conflicts, settings—are a kind of world-building, whether you’re writing fantasy or literary fiction. Writers create liminal spaces… Thresholds for readers to step across so they can enter and live within them and suspend their disbelief.
  3. The Dream State – When readers fall into a story and embrace the suspension of disbelief, they’re not passively consuming. They’re actively simulating, imagining, and learning, almost as if they were dreaming while awake. This is why, when we edit and approach our stories from a more objective viewpoint (after the subjectivity of the initial brain dump), we want to be aware and cautious not to break the dream.

Reflection / Writer’s Lens
As writers, this is powerful. We’re not just stringing words together; we’re crafting living simulations that allow our readers to practice empathy, explore danger and emotionally difficult situations safely, and inhabit other lives. That’s why details matter. That’s why world-building isn’t just for fantasy writers—it’s for all storytellers.

The next time you’re writing—or reading—notice when the dream takes hold. When the story stops being words on a page and starts being a place you are. That’s fiction doing its deepest work.

I’d love to know: What’s the last book you read that felt like a dream you didn’t want to wake from?