'I am twenty-six inches tall, shapely and well proportioned, my heads perhaps a trifle too large.'

With this, Piccoline the dwarf begins his tale of hate and murder. He is the special servant of the Prince, and is devoted to the man like no other on this Earth. For Piccoline hates, despises, denies each and every single living thing, human, dwarf, animal: it does not matter to his hatred. He delights in his hate, lavishly describing his distaste for this or that person, or for this or that emotion.

Consider:

'I seized the opportunity to sneer...'
'They are buffoons, though they do not know it, and nor does anybody else...'
'I stood there defenceless, naked, incapable of action, though I was foaming with rage.'
'My hatred was so alive that I almost thought I should lose consciousness...'

All this and more within the first fifty pages. He is consumed by his hate. Yet, at least in the beginning, there are occasional flashes of some other emotion - not love or kindness, but at the very least some sort of neutrality. He admires the paintings of the 'genius' Bernardo, and still later admires the weapons of war that the man designs, but would never call him a friend. There is, of course, the love for the Prince, but this is a white love ringed with black, for he only loves the Prince when the Prince is commanding him to do bleak things, or when the Prince holds him visibly higher than the other servants.

Towards the middle of the book, a war begins with a rival kingdom, and it is here that Piccoline almost succumbs to an ecstasy of negative emotion. He revels in the violence and terror, killing another dwarf he finds merely to be part of the destruction. He compares this murder to the time when he killed the little Princess' cat, and the comparison is dispassionate and intelligent. Later, the dwarf sets into motion his greatest triumph, an orgy of death and despair that ruins both kingdoms, perhaps forever.

It is difficult to recommend this book, yet I believe it is a necessary read. A diligent reader would not deny himself the pleasure of a treatise on love, so why not dip into the opposite, a dirge of hate? We all suffer from the emotion, whether cold hate or fiery, rational or not so much, and through Piccoline, we are able to view every terrible aspect.

In a telling section, Piccoline describes the creation of dwarfs as such: '...Our race is perpetuated through them, and thus and thus only can we enter this world. That is the inner reason for our sterility.' It is here when it is made clear to the reader - if it is not already - that Piccoline is a metaphor for the hate that we all carry within ourselves. He is hatred unleashed, unrestrained, and unapologetic. We may feel remorse after our actions, Piccoline never does. Strip away all positive qualities from a human being and you are left with this terrible creature. He embodies the desires we should not give in to, indeed, he executes them with glee

The end is as expected as it is chilling, and serves as a lesson to us all. At the risk of spoiling, I will say that Lagerkvist does not take the easy way out by killing the dwarf. No, he is left alive, though suffering, and this is an important choice. While incarcerated, the two kingdoms set about rebuilding their shattered empires, forging ties of peace and harmony, and Piccoline seethes. He knows that one day, perhaps soon, perhaps far away from now, but one day, he will be summoned again to do his master's bidding. He will be set forth on the world, to spread his seeds of hate and torment, and until that day, he is content to lie silent, forgotten, hating.

The Dwarf is a wonderful allegory on various aspects of the human condition, particularly in the realm of politics, statesmanship, leadership, and nation-building; it is also a novel that has a lot of applications to current global political situations, despite the fact it is set in medieval Italy. The titular character, the dwarf Piccoline, is one of the most chilling literary creations of the 20th century. Piccoline is the physical manifestation of the corruption, the dark-side, the hidden cruelty, and the amorality of the prince he serves. By extension, the Dwarf is the shriveled ethical and moral part of ourselves as a society. The image at the end of the novel, of Piccoline in chains, miserable, yet completely confident that the Prince will once again require his services, is a frightful, sobering, and potent image that serves as a reminder that evil and those who would be its agents are always close by and ready to act.

Lagerkvist was the Nobel Laureate in 1951. He is a great, often overlooked writer. He has a gift for tackling moral issues and presenting them through plots and characters that are never dated. I also recommend his novels Barabbas and The Sibyl.

The book is set as a journal for Piccoline. Not set-up as a diary, where the entries are entered via a date, but more of an account of the events. No chapters, no sections, no representation of passage of time (outside of the events discussed), just new paragraphs double-spaced down with a bolded first capital letter. No dialog, or conversations, aside from the interaction with certain people, but still al woven into the paragraphs and not braking up the pages. This style is nice. It adds a flow to the entire read yet doesn't seem drawn out.

Piccoline is one angry little guy. He hates everything there is about humans; being a dwarf he seems himself as a different `being.' Every smile, laugh, togetherness is nauseating to him. The sole item in his world that he actually respects and idolizes is the prince. In Piccoline's eyes the price can do no wrong and wants to be like him. Because of his job and his devotion, he has the rust of the Prince and Princess, which he eventually uses to his advantage.

As a reader you want to sympathize with the character presenting their story, with Piccoline, it's a different story. That is not to say the book isn't good, quite the contrary, I found it very fascinating to see the world through the eyes of a pissing vinegar, angst filled, bitter, mean little man. Some of his actions are unbelievable, but the better you get to know him the more it makes sense.

To take part in the evil of a servant dwarf is an adventure all its own. Here, an example:
"Then she asked me what I thought of her. I said that I considered her a voluptuous woman and that I was sure that she was one of those who are destined to burn for all enernity in the fires of hell.
...it was natural that the Savior should not listen to her prayers. He had not been crucified for the redemption of such as she."

A masterpiece of literature that I think many should read, if you can handle the audacity of this dwarf. Very enjoyable.

This dismal book consists of the diary of a fiery, misanthropic dwarf in a city-state in
Renaissance Italy. The dwarf's words depict his poisonous and precisely wrathful actions.
Consumed with hatred the dwarf feels himself to be clean and all other humans and dwarves,
except the most cunning and fiendish of them, to be foul. He is incapable of love and
has honed his disgust and loathing into a razor-sharp contempt. He's the sadist we dare not
to be.

The characters in the book potray the dwarf as one with his master, the prince, and it is
rightly so. One of the tragedies of the book is that the prince fails to see this.

The whole story and most of the dialogue is allegorical. Although exhibiting reprhensible
attitudes, one sees the Dwarf as the hero of the story. At the least you might identify
with the sides of yourself mirrored within him. And I assume Pär Lagerkvist meant it to be
so.

Aside from some slow parts (a war and a feast) the book flows nicely. It's also entertaining
to follow the dwarf's reactions to guilt, love, humiliation, art, politics, religion and
psychology. Rich images and the Dwarf's personal narrative swallow the reader into a world
that still continues...

Although mostly allegory "the Dwarf" is a great story in it's own right. This book's
message about our lesser parts has something to offer us all.

This is the story of renaissance hero Da Vinci as told by a Dwarf in the service of one his patrons.

There is a great scene in this work where the Da Vinci character forces the Dwarf to disrobe so that he can sketch him. The Dwarf is infuriated, he feels violated. The Da Vinci character does this in the name of such noble ideals; sympathy for the Dwarf; scientific understanding, 'wisdom', enrichment, blah, blah, blah. The Dwarf rightly feels rage at being violated in the name of such lofty ideals. We are supposed to side with the Da Vinci character.

The Da Vinci character represents the classical hero of the author and much of society. Successful people, especially those who have been blessed by nature and nurture, (and especially those who are not fully aware of how blessed they are in these ways) have a totally different view of society, humanity, and morality than those who have had a rough going. Da Vinci is their hero: he is noble, thoughful, bold yet humble, a regular Christ. What these people hate is embodied in the character of the Dwarf. It can be plainly said that life has taken a massive dump on the Dwarf. Quite naturally he is seen as small, myopic, petty, too cynical, full of hate, twisted, etc.. The author, a classicist, stays true to this view of humanity and its 'correct' aspirations. The Greeks had this (all too arrogant though rarely realized as such)idea (remember that Aristotle thought manual laborors and ugly people to be incapabale of 'virtue').

This is really the great debate or divide in humanity. Not the haves and have nots, but the in-crowd and the outcasts. The arbitralily lucky in-crowd congratulates and justifies itself with its various world-views. Outcasts have a different view of life and what it offers and what should be taken from it. This view is not necessarily superior, but surely is not inferior to the sugar-water that the in-crowd uses for philosophy (and since the world is run by various in-crowds, many people whom they would enver allow to mix with them foolishly happily drink this same sugary concotion and proclaim it nourishing). If one wants a voice that defines and chronciles the outcast, why they feel the way the way they do, how it came that way, and a defense of these feelings and view of the world, read the author Charles Bukowski. The Dwarf is a well told tale, but in my opinion takes the wrong side in this great debate...