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spopovic's review against another edition
3.0
Exquisitely written. Quite twisted at times. Unfortunately, I didn't care for the narrator, what he thought, what he did, nor what happened to him. That made the reading slightly tedious. At least the prose was wonderful.
kyleofbooks's review against another edition
1.0
I'm going to be honest here, I skimmed the last 150 pages or so.
This was excrutiating. I have owned this book since its release, but only recently did I have the urge to read something truly wicked, wild, and dark. This novel was none of that. In fact, I found it exceedingly boring and aimless. I hated it. Actually, fuck past tense! I HATE it, and will continue hating it until I read something worthwhile to make me forget how utterly banal this novel is.
The whole story was laughable, albeit, unintentional I'm guessing on the author's part. I don't think Mr. Tosches expected much of what he had written (described as "edgy" and "dangerous") to elicit such chuckles. We have here with Me and the Devil a 60-year-old "writer" living in the LES of New York City. He has wires connecting false teeth he takes in and out, his skin is saggy, he drinks fancy drinks, he cooks and eats fancy food, he buys extravagant things, he judges the people he sees in his neighborhood from out his window in his fancy apartment...Nick Tosches wants you to know he's a polymath. It's the equivalent of going, "Look at all the crap I know shit about. Aren't I so well-learned?" "Look, look! I'm buying my meat from a special butcher and not 'Whole Foods' like everyone else, 'cause everyone else is stupid for buying things that I decree are unworthy and blahblahblah." This whole book angered me.
The narrator is overtly condescending, pretentious, pompous, misogynistic... he's an old hipster, passing judgment on people eating Dunkin Donuts and drinking cheap coffee, whereas he indulges in thick cut Irish bacon, quail eggs, salmon, and white truffles for breakfast. There was a passage early on where he's complaining about a woman at the butcher ordering "grass fed" beef, and he of course finds her insufferable because she just doesn't know that "grain fed" is better. He goes on to make superficial, rude comments on her older, heavily-made-up appearance. Pot meet kettle, much?
I haven't even arrived at the best part(s)! This pedantic 60-year-old supercilious fuck is the object of desire to many a-young (and I mean young) women. Apparently, intelligent, gorgeous girls in their early twenties find his smarmy lines fascinating, and that's all it takes to go to bed with him... and fucking let him bite their thighs and drink their blood! I just don't get it. He is obsessed with biting "young flesh" and drinking their blood, and they let him. And OBVIOUSLY the blood of younger women is better for his virility than the blood of older ladies... It happens quite often in this book, and I laughed every time I imagined this geriatric, vampiric jerk making girls moan with his incessant biting, hitting, fisting, etc. There is also casual talk of rape and violence against women, and weird run-ins with celebrities (who just happen to be friends with the author). I'm not even going to get into the cookie-cutter women of this book. They were dull and empty molds for the author to fill his fantasies with.
I am at a loss.
I am not being ageist, I should clarify. I just abhorred this MC who happens to be an older man.
I apologize if this review is jumping around and not very concise, but my anger is overshadowing my thought-process. Here, I will end what it seems is an overwrought rant, with my final words on this novel: It is self-gratifying drivel. It is not edgy. It is not fascinating. It is annoying, convoluted and smug.
This was excrutiating. I have owned this book since its release, but only recently did I have the urge to read something truly wicked, wild, and dark. This novel was none of that. In fact, I found it exceedingly boring and aimless. I hated it. Actually, fuck past tense! I HATE it, and will continue hating it until I read something worthwhile to make me forget how utterly banal this novel is.
The whole story was laughable, albeit, unintentional I'm guessing on the author's part. I don't think Mr. Tosches expected much of what he had written (described as "edgy" and "dangerous") to elicit such chuckles. We have here with Me and the Devil a 60-year-old "writer" living in the LES of New York City. He has wires connecting false teeth he takes in and out, his skin is saggy, he drinks fancy drinks, he cooks and eats fancy food, he buys extravagant things, he judges the people he sees in his neighborhood from out his window in his fancy apartment...Nick Tosches wants you to know he's a polymath. It's the equivalent of going, "Look at all the crap I know shit about. Aren't I so well-learned?" "Look, look! I'm buying my meat from a special butcher and not 'Whole Foods' like everyone else, 'cause everyone else is stupid for buying things that I decree are unworthy and blahblahblah." This whole book angered me.
The narrator is overtly condescending, pretentious, pompous, misogynistic... he's an old hipster, passing judgment on people eating Dunkin Donuts and drinking cheap coffee, whereas he indulges in thick cut Irish bacon, quail eggs, salmon, and white truffles for breakfast. There was a passage early on where he's complaining about a woman at the butcher ordering "grass fed" beef, and he of course finds her insufferable because she just doesn't know that "grain fed" is better. He goes on to make superficial, rude comments on her older, heavily-made-up appearance. Pot meet kettle, much?
I haven't even arrived at the best part(s)! This pedantic 60-year-old supercilious fuck is the object of desire to many a-young (and I mean young) women. Apparently, intelligent, gorgeous girls in their early twenties find his smarmy lines fascinating, and that's all it takes to go to bed with him... and fucking let him bite their thighs and drink their blood! I just don't get it. He is obsessed with biting "young flesh" and drinking their blood, and they let him. And OBVIOUSLY the blood of younger women is better for his virility than the blood of older ladies... It happens quite often in this book, and I laughed every time I imagined this geriatric, vampiric jerk making girls moan with his incessant biting, hitting, fisting, etc. There is also casual talk of rape and violence against women, and weird run-ins with celebrities (who just happen to be friends with the author). I'm not even going to get into the cookie-cutter women of this book. They were dull and empty molds for the author to fill his fantasies with.
I am at a loss.
I am not being ageist, I should clarify. I just abhorred this MC who happens to be an older man.
I apologize if this review is jumping around and not very concise, but my anger is overshadowing my thought-process. Here, I will end what it seems is an overwrought rant, with my final words on this novel: It is self-gratifying drivel. It is not edgy. It is not fascinating. It is annoying, convoluted and smug.
daveinyourface's review against another edition
3.0
I like reading "strange /unusual" novels such as this, but this one is half plot and half rambling. Toward the end it wasn't coherent to me. still I'd rather read this than the millionth book about a person conquering a terminal illness by finding love or something that has been done over and over again.
kateycakes's review against another edition
3.0
I wish I could give this book 3 1/2 stars, but I'll have to stick with 3. I was really excited to read this book, and when I started it completely met my expectations. But while the "plot" (I use quotations because there really isn't a plot) was interesting, the author digresses - A LOT. He loses sight of the most interesting aspects of the novel (the female characters and his relationship with them) and completely overshadows them with long, arduous descriptions of arbitrary things. The last seventy pages were a chore, and I was so happy to be finished. That said, the first 200 or so pages on their own is a complete masterpiece.
kyleofbooks's review against another edition
1.0
I'm going to be honest here, I skimmed the last 150 pages or so.
This was excrutiating. I have owned this book since its release, but only recently did I have the urge to read something truly wicked, wild, and dark. This novel was none of that. In fact, I found it exceedingly boring and aimless. I hated it. Actually, fuck past tense! I HATE it, and will continue hating it until I read something worthwhile to make me forget how utterly banal this novel is.
The whole story was laughable, albeit, unintentional I'm guessing on the author's part. I don't think Mr. Tosches expected much of what he had written (described as "edgy" and "dangerous") to elicit such chuckles. We have here with Me and the Devil a 60-year-old "writer" living in the LES of New York City. He has wires connecting false teeth he takes in and out, his skin is saggy, he drinks fancy drinks, he cooks and eats fancy food, he buys extravagant things, he judges the people he sees in his neighborhood from out his window in his fancy apartment...Nick Tosches wants you to know he's a polymath. It's the equivalent of going, "Look at all the crap I know shit about. Aren't I so well-learned?" "Look, look! I'm buying my meat from a special butcher and not 'Whole Foods' like everyone else, 'cause everyone else is stupid for buying things that I decree are unworthy and blahblahblah." This whole book angered me.
The narrator is overtly condescending, pretentious, pompous, misogynistic... he's an old hipster, passing judgment on people eating Dunkin Donuts and drinking cheap coffee, whereas he indulges in thick cut Irish bacon, quail eggs, salmon, and white truffles for breakfast. There was a passage early on where he's complaining about a woman at the butcher ordering "grass fed" beef, and he of course finds her insufferable because she just doesn't know that "grain fed" is better. He goes on to make superficial, rude comments on her older, heavily-made-up appearance. Pot meet kettle, much?
I haven't even arrived at the best part(s)! This pedantic 60-year-old supercilious fuck is the object of desire to many a-young (and I mean young) women. Apparently, intelligent, gorgeous girls in their early twenties find his smarmy lines fascinating, and that's all it takes to go to bed with him... and fucking let him bite their thighs and drink their blood! I just don't get it. He is obsessed with biting "young flesh" and drinking their blood, and they let him. And OBVIOUSLY the blood of younger women is better for his virility than the blood of older ladies... It happens quite often in this book, and I laughed every time I imagined this geriatric, vampiric jerk making girls moan with his incessant biting, hitting, fisting, etc. There is also casual talk of rape and violence against women, and weird run-ins with celebrities (who just happen to be friends with the author). I'm not even going to get into the cookie-cutter women of this book. They were dull and empty molds for the author to fill his fantasies with.
I am at a loss.
I am not being ageist, I should clarify. I just abhorred this MC who happens to be an older man.
I apologize if this review is jumping around and not very concise, but my anger is overshadowing my thought-process. Here, I will end what it seems is an overwrought rant, with my final words on this novel: It is self-gratifying drivel. It is not edgy. It is not fascinating. It is annoying, convoluted and smug.
This was excrutiating. I have owned this book since its release, but only recently did I have the urge to read something truly wicked, wild, and dark. This novel was none of that. In fact, I found it exceedingly boring and aimless. I hated it. Actually, fuck past tense! I HATE it, and will continue hating it until I read something worthwhile to make me forget how utterly banal this novel is.
The whole story was laughable, albeit, unintentional I'm guessing on the author's part. I don't think Mr. Tosches expected much of what he had written (described as "edgy" and "dangerous") to elicit such chuckles. We have here with Me and the Devil a 60-year-old "writer" living in the LES of New York City. He has wires connecting false teeth he takes in and out, his skin is saggy, he drinks fancy drinks, he cooks and eats fancy food, he buys extravagant things, he judges the people he sees in his neighborhood from out his window in his fancy apartment...Nick Tosches wants you to know he's a polymath. It's the equivalent of going, "Look at all the crap I know shit about. Aren't I so well-learned?" "Look, look! I'm buying my meat from a special butcher and not 'Whole Foods' like everyone else, 'cause everyone else is stupid for buying things that I decree are unworthy and blahblahblah." This whole book angered me.
The narrator is overtly condescending, pretentious, pompous, misogynistic... he's an old hipster, passing judgment on people eating Dunkin Donuts and drinking cheap coffee, whereas he indulges in thick cut Irish bacon, quail eggs, salmon, and white truffles for breakfast. There was a passage early on where he's complaining about a woman at the butcher ordering "grass fed" beef, and he of course finds her insufferable because she just doesn't know that "grain fed" is better. He goes on to make superficial, rude comments on her older, heavily-made-up appearance. Pot meet kettle, much?
I haven't even arrived at the best part(s)! This pedantic 60-year-old supercilious fuck is the object of desire to many a-young (and I mean young) women. Apparently, intelligent, gorgeous girls in their early twenties find his smarmy lines fascinating, and that's all it takes to go to bed with him... and fucking let him bite their thighs and drink their blood! I just don't get it. He is obsessed with biting "young flesh" and drinking their blood, and they let him. And OBVIOUSLY the blood of younger women is better for his virility than the blood of older ladies... It happens quite often in this book, and I laughed every time I imagined this geriatric, vampiric jerk making girls moan with his incessant biting, hitting, fisting, etc. There is also casual talk of rape and violence against women, and weird run-ins with celebrities (who just happen to be friends with the author). I'm not even going to get into the cookie-cutter women of this book. They were dull and empty molds for the author to fill his fantasies with.
I am at a loss.
I am not being ageist, I should clarify. I just abhorred this MC who happens to be an older man.
I apologize if this review is jumping around and not very concise, but my anger is overshadowing my thought-process. Here, I will end what it seems is an overwrought rant, with my final words on this novel: It is self-gratifying drivel. It is not edgy. It is not fascinating. It is annoying, convoluted and smug.
myrrh's review against another edition
3.0
I'm going to skip ahead: just put this book down and read Hubert Selby Jr.'s [b:The Demon|46941|The Demon|Hubert Selby Jr.|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1386923973s/46941.jpg|46011] instead. Honestly, I think Nick Tosches would tell you to do the same.
I was still riding the high of reading Tosches' beautifully-crafted [b:In the Hand of Dante|40664|In the Hand of Dante|Nick Tosches|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1431267963s/40664.jpg|40272] when I picked up [b:Me and the Devil|13701723|Me and the Devil|Nick Tosches|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1340758728s/13701723.jpg|19322711]. One of the things I found brilliant about Dante is Tosches' "trick" of creating a narrator who is, like him, a writer, a hardboiled Italian-American New Yorker, and who is also named Nick Tosches. In Dante it makes a lot of sense: Tosches draws comparisons between his struggle as a writer and thinker and Dante's which are truly poignant. The same tactic in Me and the Devil doesn't serve the story nearly as well.
Me and the Devil includes some truly sublime moments of poetry, but it's blemished by a deluge of racial slurs and casual misogyny that the story fails to justify even within the context of this character-who-just-happens-to-resemble-his-author conceit. Dante includes a memorable rant about editors: Tosches clearly prefers that his editors stay away from actually editing his words - and the man is a poet, no question. But there are huge passages of this book that would have benefited greatly from an editor sitting the author down and asking him to either earn it or cut it.
One personal sidebar: while I was reading this book - actually, just when I considered giving up on it - I discovered Norwegian musician Jenny Hval's album Blood Bitch. Listening to a woman's perspective on gender identity, sociopolitical construction, and... um, vampires, made a perfect soundtrack for some of the more difficult-to-stomach passages of this novel. If you've read this and other reviews and, like me, want to read this book & decide for yourself, I highly recommend putting on this album while you read.
Just to be clear: I didn't entirely hate this book. But I did hate large portions of it. I'd like to think (generously, hopefully) that the project Tosches is engaged with is a critique of the character he called Nick Tosches - a curmudgeonly misogynistic man-child who gets off on saying the n-word and hates pretentious literary snobs while somehow also demonstrating all the characteristics of the worst pretentious snobs himself. The character is rife with contradiction and self-loathing, and this story brings him beyond the brink of death and face to face with the devil himself: but it still feels like Tosches isn't fully committed to picking apart the leathery facade of the character who wears his face. I read the entire book hoping for a definitive moment of actual self-awareness... and instead got several extended "self-awareness" scenes that still left me with... doubts.
Maybe the ambiguity is what he's going for. Certainly, the question of "wait, how much of this is really you" adds to the thrill of In the Hand of Dante, and the ambiguity there serves the story. Coming right up against that edge is something Tosches admires writers like Selby for - which is why, ultimately, if you haven't read Hubert Selby Jr.'s [b:The Demon|46941|The Demon|Hubert Selby Jr.|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1386923973s/46941.jpg|46011], just read that one instead. I think that's the book Tosches wishes he would have written here. The vampire shit is almost interesting, the sex is almost kinky, and the author's confrontation of his own mortality is almost not overplayed, but ultimately Me and the Devil raises the knife and fails to break the skin.
I was still riding the high of reading Tosches' beautifully-crafted [b:In the Hand of Dante|40664|In the Hand of Dante|Nick Tosches|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1431267963s/40664.jpg|40272] when I picked up [b:Me and the Devil|13701723|Me and the Devil|Nick Tosches|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1340758728s/13701723.jpg|19322711]. One of the things I found brilliant about Dante is Tosches' "trick" of creating a narrator who is, like him, a writer, a hardboiled Italian-American New Yorker, and who is also named Nick Tosches. In Dante it makes a lot of sense: Tosches draws comparisons between his struggle as a writer and thinker and Dante's which are truly poignant. The same tactic in Me and the Devil doesn't serve the story nearly as well.
Me and the Devil includes some truly sublime moments of poetry, but it's blemished by a deluge of racial slurs and casual misogyny that the story fails to justify even within the context of this character-who-just-happens-to-resemble-his-author conceit. Dante includes a memorable rant about editors: Tosches clearly prefers that his editors stay away from actually editing his words - and the man is a poet, no question. But there are huge passages of this book that would have benefited greatly from an editor sitting the author down and asking him to either earn it or cut it.
One personal sidebar: while I was reading this book - actually, just when I considered giving up on it - I discovered Norwegian musician Jenny Hval's album Blood Bitch. Listening to a woman's perspective on gender identity, sociopolitical construction, and... um, vampires, made a perfect soundtrack for some of the more difficult-to-stomach passages of this novel. If you've read this and other reviews and, like me, want to read this book & decide for yourself, I highly recommend putting on this album while you read.
Just to be clear: I didn't entirely hate this book. But I did hate large portions of it. I'd like to think (generously, hopefully) that the project Tosches is engaged with is a critique of the character he called Nick Tosches - a curmudgeonly misogynistic man-child who gets off on saying the n-word and hates pretentious literary snobs while somehow also demonstrating all the characteristics of the worst pretentious snobs himself. The character is rife with contradiction and self-loathing, and this story brings him beyond the brink of death and face to face with the devil himself: but it still feels like Tosches isn't fully committed to picking apart the leathery facade of the character who wears his face. I read the entire book hoping for a definitive moment of actual self-awareness... and instead got several extended "self-awareness" scenes that still left me with... doubts.
Maybe the ambiguity is what he's going for. Certainly, the question of "wait, how much of this is really you" adds to the thrill of In the Hand of Dante, and the ambiguity there serves the story. Coming right up against that edge is something Tosches admires writers like Selby for - which is why, ultimately, if you haven't read Hubert Selby Jr.'s [b:The Demon|46941|The Demon|Hubert Selby Jr.|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1386923973s/46941.jpg|46011], just read that one instead. I think that's the book Tosches wishes he would have written here. The vampire shit is almost interesting, the sex is almost kinky, and the author's confrontation of his own mortality is almost not overplayed, but ultimately Me and the Devil raises the knife and fails to break the skin.
whatsheread's review against another edition
In Me and the Devil Nick Tosches may have been attempting to push the envelope with his utterly unlikable main character – an alcoholic, pedantic snob with brutish sexual proclivities. He instead succeeds in disturbing and isolating readers with the aging author’s obsessions and navel-gazing. With its exacting descriptions of food, alcoholic benders, sidebars about Greek and Latin grammar, diatribes against societal milieus that do not fit his standards, and most importantly its questionable main character who may or may not be fantasizing the entire plot, Me and the Devil novel feels like a wannabe Bret Easton Ellis plot (see American Psycho). Unlike Mr. Ellis’ novels though, there is a rage within the main character that antagonizes a reader more than it intrigues.
Too much about the novel leaves the reader wondering why Nick acts the way he does. The questions get to the heart of Nick’s character, and answers would go far in creating someone that readers could at least understand. Instead, readers are left with a shell of a main character with no clear understanding of his goals, drive, or motivations that cause him to act in such a grossly offensive manner. Yes, suave and psycho Patrick Batemen is more sympathetic than this old man.
There are many authors out there today who specialize in the shock and awe factor with their novels, who actively write about characters who buck societal norms – Dennis Cooper is the first one that comes to mind. Me and the Devil is an attempt at the same but one that falls short. Yes, everyone has their own penchants, but Nick’s turn towards blood play is so sudden and so unexplained that it remains all but inexplicable. Compounding the problem is his unreliability as a narrator due to his drinking. The entire novel has a tired, repetitive quality to it that fails to shock and awe readers as much as it annoys and drives one to put down the book.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to NetGalley and to Little, Brown and Company for my review copy!
Too much about the novel leaves the reader wondering why Nick acts the way he does. The questions get to the heart of Nick’s character, and answers would go far in creating someone that readers could at least understand. Instead, readers are left with a shell of a main character with no clear understanding of his goals, drive, or motivations that cause him to act in such a grossly offensive manner. Yes, suave and psycho Patrick Batemen is more sympathetic than this old man.
There are many authors out there today who specialize in the shock and awe factor with their novels, who actively write about characters who buck societal norms – Dennis Cooper is the first one that comes to mind. Me and the Devil is an attempt at the same but one that falls short. Yes, everyone has their own penchants, but Nick’s turn towards blood play is so sudden and so unexplained that it remains all but inexplicable. Compounding the problem is his unreliability as a narrator due to his drinking. The entire novel has a tired, repetitive quality to it that fails to shock and awe readers as much as it annoys and drives one to put down the book.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to NetGalley and to Little, Brown and Company for my review copy!
knowledgelost's review
3.0
Aging writer Nick is witnessing the decline of civilisation. One night he meets a provocative young woman in a bar that surprisingly offers to go home with him. This one night unleashed an unholy desire within him. Unable to control his primitive desires, Nick finds his thirst getting strong. His desire for blood quickly becomes the driving force in his life. However, has he just found the key to mortality or has he just unknowingly made a deal with the devil?
Reading Me and the Devil, I notice right away that Nick Tosches is playing with the vampire genre; the idea of old men drinking the blood of young women to gain extended morality. Turning it into a sexual perversion, blood play works really well as a device to explore the vampire mythology. The story basically follows a young nineteen year old in an unhealthy relationship with an older man. It is basically Twilight, exposing many of the problems with the relationship of Edward and Belle.
Although Nick Tosches does a much better job with the relationship, exploring a darker and more brutal nature of an unhealthy relationship. His writing is beautiful and is often compared to William S. Burroughs and Charles Bukowski. I love that gritty nature of the novel and surprising beauty in the language. When it comes to talking about food, Tosches is very detailed and I found myself getting hungry at the food imagery.
Besides the vampire angle, Me and the Devil is a story of a grumpy old man that is angry with the changing world. Interestingly enough that the main character is named Nick Tosches, making this anger autobiographical. If you look at Nick’s website, the ‘about the author’ section simply says “Nick Tosches lives in what used to be New York.” This is a representation of how the character viewed New York, always talking about the old days. When you had little deli’s and mum and pop stores. The quality of the food was so much better back in the old days.
I feel like there is a lot to say about this novel but it would require spoiling the plot and I really think this is a book that deserves to be experience blind. Since Nick is a writer in the novel there are heaps of literary references to obscure and cult classics, which I appreciated. I loved Nick Tosches writing style and need to read more of his books. He is mostly known for his dark and gritty music biographies Hellfire: The Jerry Lee Lewis Story and Dino: Living High in the Dirty Business of Dreams (Dean Martin) and I am interested in reading those books. Tosches also explores a lot of religious themes so I am excited to experience more of his novels. This is the type of author that you will either love or hate, luckily for me, I have found a new favourite.
This review originally appeared on my blog; http://www.knowledgelost.org/book-reviews/genre/literary-fiction/me-and-the-devil-by-nick-tosches/
Reading Me and the Devil, I notice right away that Nick Tosches is playing with the vampire genre; the idea of old men drinking the blood of young women to gain extended morality. Turning it into a sexual perversion, blood play works really well as a device to explore the vampire mythology. The story basically follows a young nineteen year old in an unhealthy relationship with an older man. It is basically Twilight, exposing many of the problems with the relationship of Edward and Belle.
Although Nick Tosches does a much better job with the relationship, exploring a darker and more brutal nature of an unhealthy relationship. His writing is beautiful and is often compared to William S. Burroughs and Charles Bukowski. I love that gritty nature of the novel and surprising beauty in the language. When it comes to talking about food, Tosches is very detailed and I found myself getting hungry at the food imagery.
Besides the vampire angle, Me and the Devil is a story of a grumpy old man that is angry with the changing world. Interestingly enough that the main character is named Nick Tosches, making this anger autobiographical. If you look at Nick’s website, the ‘about the author’ section simply says “Nick Tosches lives in what used to be New York.” This is a representation of how the character viewed New York, always talking about the old days. When you had little deli’s and mum and pop stores. The quality of the food was so much better back in the old days.
I feel like there is a lot to say about this novel but it would require spoiling the plot and I really think this is a book that deserves to be experience blind. Since Nick is a writer in the novel there are heaps of literary references to obscure and cult classics, which I appreciated. I loved Nick Tosches writing style and need to read more of his books. He is mostly known for his dark and gritty music biographies Hellfire: The Jerry Lee Lewis Story and Dino: Living High in the Dirty Business of Dreams (Dean Martin) and I am interested in reading those books. Tosches also explores a lot of religious themes so I am excited to experience more of his novels. This is the type of author that you will either love or hate, luckily for me, I have found a new favourite.
This review originally appeared on my blog; http://www.knowledgelost.org/book-reviews/genre/literary-fiction/me-and-the-devil-by-nick-tosches/
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