My expectations were low for this book after reading the editor's less than glowing introduction. According to her, this is a middling book in which the author's genius can be glimpsed, but not seen in full. Expecting a disjointed, slapdash story, however, I was pleasantly surprised by both the concept and the style. The idea of a religious triptych is charming, and the effect is successful. Combining the realist style with the supernatural vision was perfectly effective, and the rogueish narrator is more relatable than similar characters in Stendahl etc al. His disdain for the church is no doubt reflective of the author's own, and possibly his carnal nature too. There is an underlying admission that there is something to it all, however, and it is that which takes the book to each of its interesting waypoints. Perhaps most interesting--and eerily prescient--of these moments is a dialogue the narrator has with Lucifer in which he says, "Don't bemoan the holocausts of Moloch. There will be holocausts of Jews someday" (87). in 1887. Brrr.
Yes, religion is a farce. And yet what other account can be given of the visions that we receive, and the moments of fate that bring us to equilibirum? As the devil says in response to the above description of religious rises and falls, "What do I can one way or the other, Raposo? They are transient. I am not."
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