The Devil's a funny guy. Not only the Prince of Darkness, he is also the Prince of Sarcasm... which he should be, since he invented it. Or so he claims in his new memoir, I, Lucifer, as channelled through the near-suicided body of a would-be writer into whose body he takes Earthly form.
Seems the Fallen One is being given a second chance by the Old Chap (as Satan is wont to call his Creator, along with many other irreverent titles – oh, and hey, God is an old man in a white robe with a flowing beard. Who'd have thought it?). God has said that if Satan can last out a month on Earth, as a human and without sin, he can reclaim his place among the Heavenly Host, and be subjected to Gabriel's inept horn-playing once more.

Instead of seeking to lead the life of the blameless, however, Luce decides to take this mortal opportunity to tell his side of the whole betrayal story. He lets us in on God's overweaning arrogance, his banality and condescension. He tells us that he, Satan, is merely a misunderstood rebel with a cause, who dared to think freely and was punished for -- and with -- his pains. He tells us of his relationship with Raphael, who was more tempted than he'd like to admit to side with the Adversary, and he also debunks quite a lot of both the Old and New Testaments along the way.

Well, he would claim to be the victim of a Godly conspiracy, wouldn't he? He's evil. As he more than amply demonstrates in his matter-of-fact recountings of priests tempted and people murdered. But he's just so charming, so witty, so very plausible that you can't help but develop an affection for him, much as the pedophile in Nabokov's Lolita is made sympathetic through his well-chosen turns of phrase.

We, as genre fans, are used to seeing The Devil in an attractive light. It's not that we're Satanists or anything (are we?), it's just that when Gabriel Byrne, Al Pacino and Gary Cole have played him (not to mention Elizabeth Hurley and -- oh dear! -- Jennifer Love Hewitt), it's hard to be all "get thee behind me" about the Tempter. And, hey, Satan makes a lot of sense to those of us with a genre bent, 'cause we are all about the questioning of the Establishment and the exploration of the Dark Side. If we're honest about it, we are more interested in Darth Vader than Luke (though not Han, of course), Angelus than Angel, Voldemort than Harry. It is the complexity of evil that intrigues us, as much as the attitude, and this book shows us as complex and attitudinous Satan as ever was created. (Excepting, maybe, the one latterly of Supernatural.)

Ignoring the plot -- and yes, there actually is one -- of how the Devil, in the guise of writer and Devil-host Declan Gunn (a not very subtle anagram of books’ author Glen Duncan; a much cooler name, when all's said) lures Hollywood into his mission to give the "real" tale of the Fall, this book is remarkable because of its prose. There are times when the English-ness overtakes all things (Duncan is English, and apparently Satan lapses into Cockney and variations thereof periodically), but that is not a flaw. Where else would Satan manifest than in London?

This book is many and varied kinds of funny. Ooh, the funny. Seriously, Satan should hit the comedy circuit. I know that we've all been blaming him for the appalling sitcoms that have been coming out of America for the last few decades – not to mention the reality programming -- but it seems we were unjust. This book is also thought-provoking, enervating and quite simply horrifying, yet utterly compelling. It's a tour through a sick, twisted, but brilliant, mind; one that believes its disease is justified and genius, and almost has the reader convinced he's right. After all, if Satan did, in fact, invent sarcasm, then he might just be the good guy he claims to be after all.

Yeah, right.

  -- Rachel Hyland