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I, Lucifer - Glen Duncan ”Once upon a...
Time, you’ll be pleased to know--and since one must start somewhere--was created in creation.
What was there before creation? is meaningless. Time is a property of creation. What there was was the Old Chap peering in a state of perpetual nowness up His own almighty sphincter trying to find out who the devil He was. His big problem was there was no way to distinguish Himself from the Void. If you’re Everything you might as well be Nothing. So He created us, and with a whiz and a bang (quite a small one, actually) Old Time was born.”

When he fell it created hell

Evil is supposed to be charming, seductive, handsome, beautiful, and...well... naughty in the best possible way. There are many names for the angel that personifies evil: Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Prince of Darkness, Satan, bête noire, dastard, diablo, djinn, dybbuk, enfant terrible, evil one, and the Devil are just a few choice epithets that have been hurled at the DARK ONE, but the only name he answers to is the one that god gave him...Lucifer.

Lucifer from the TV show Supernatural

The basis of this novel is that GOD sends his emissaries to chat with Lucifer about forgiveness. The deal is that Lucifer has to spend thirty days walking the Earth as a human. Now Lucifer isn’t even sure he wants forgiveness and besides how out of balance would the world be without his seductive whisper moving things along. He decides that this experiment, at least, might be fun.

Lucifer tussles with JC in the wilderness and had him right where he wanted him except GOD cheated.

Lucifer ends up in the body of a suicidal writer, are there any other kind, and is less than thrilled with the chassis he has been issued. As he watches Declan Gunn’s girlfriend... ahhh... well pleasure him he makes the mistake of looking in the mirror.

”Watching in the mirror turned out to be a bad idea, what with Gunn’s wayward gut and hairy legs, what with his double chin, dugs and jug-handle ears, what with his body being a sort of anti-aphrodisiac.”

Lucifer is happy with the evolution of women’s looks.

Women had touched themselves up--cosmetically, thank you--and their features glowed and gleamed: mouths like scimitars in claret, plum, sienna, mimosa, pearl, burgundy and puce, smokily shadowed eyes with diamond hints and sapphire glints, flecks of emerald and fragments of jade.

Easy there Lucifer you are just passing through. He meets up with Lady Harriet Marsh who is made to order for a fallen angel obsessed with sin.

Lady Harriet Marsh, you’d think, what with the bevelled vowels and Susanna-York-on-smack looks. Sixty years old now (quite a while since I’d last seen her) with a freckled body of complicated wiriness under a black halter-neck cocktail dress. Magnificently bored green eyes. Hair dyed a colour between platinum and pale pink, pinned up, with wispy bits dangling. The odd liver spot. Brazenly crafted Los Angeles teeth.

Susanna York had the devil in her eye.

I gotta hand it to Harriet with most of the female population younger than her she still had the goods to catch the eye of the devil himself. It wasn’t so much how she looked, but how her life’s resume is red inked with sordid behavior.

Lucifer decides to write a novel about himself, after all he is supposed to be a writer and wouldn’t it be great to make Declan Gunn rich. The added bonus of this idea is that after he vacates the body he would have one more potential sinner to cultivate. As the story progresses and his sense of himself becomes more and more murky he starts to write less about himself and more about Declan Gunn.

I read [b:The Last Werewolf|9532302|The Last Werewolf|Glen Duncan|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1287572224s/9532302.jpg|14418429] by Glen Duncan and thought it was snarky and witty and fun. When I discovered that he had written a book about Lucifer I thought... wow... what a perfect idea for this writer. Maybe my expectations were too high. Is it possible I failed as a reader? Well maybe, but the one thing I can not abide is a book to be BORING. The book had some wonderful lines, but the chatterbox, whiny, nagging voice of Lucifer took all the sparkle out of what should have been a slam dunk wonderful novel. I will end with a dash of Duncan getting it right.

’Do you ever have those dreams,’ Harriet rasped, slowly, ‘where you’ve done something, something terrible and irreversible? Something horrific, and no matter how much you’re sorry it’s no good? It’s indelible?’
I didn’t look at her. Didn’t need to. I knew what she’d look like, lying on her side, face to the window, the city’s lights minutely captured in the glossy convexities of her tired eyes. I knew she’d be unblinking, her cheek squashed in the deep pillow, her mouth dripping a single strand of spittle. I knew she’d look sad as hell.
‘I have that dream all the time,’ she said. ‘Except when I’m asleep.’