ANIMAL WRONGS

A sprightly tale that finds two attorneys in medieval France matching wits over a triptych of unusual cases.

And now for something completely different, as the saying goes. In fact, this medieval comedy smacks of Monty Python’s bawdy and mischievous sense of humor, even if it comes loaded with voluminous dialogues that take some getting used to. Our two protagonists over the course of a decade or so in the early 16th century are defense counsel and narrator Barthélemy de Chassenée and his prosecutorial counterpart, Humbert de Révigny, a flamboyant but enigmatic bon vivant who takes to sharing long conversations with his friend. Did we mention that Révigny is also a servant of Satan? Not in the form of a “devil’s advocate,” but a shape-shifting, red-eyed, horned demon who smells faintly of sulfur. The author’s really interesting choice here is that this fantastic revelation doesn’t bother Chassenée in the slightest. First, Chassenée is summoned to the village of Autun by the local bishop to defend...well, rats that are eating the crops, leading to bizarre but oddly entertaining legal gymnastics on both attorneys’ parts. Their cases are largely ecclesiastical tribunals, so there’s a lot of old-time religion added to each encounter. They meet again to wrestle over the fate of “Madame Truye,” a pig that ate up a baby like a dingo’s breakfast. Their third but unlikely last case directs their fey discourse to the case of Marcel Plonta, accused of being no less than a werewolf. Chassenée’s blithe acceptance of his frenemy’s demonic side takes some getting used to, but the verbal contests and quick-fire, Aaron Sorkin–like dialogue are more entertaining than any otherworldly conflict might have been. Not as ribald as a similarly drunken two-hander like Withnail and I, but a fun trifle nonetheless.

An atypical comic novel that deftly explores its cynical narrator’s encounters with his devilish friend.