This is an original, entertaining satire. It feels like a highly personal account of one man's internal belief of Christianity, with any religious institutionalism removed. It's almost refreshing to see religion not as a checklist of regulations to follow.

But it doesn't try to be just that, and grates on my every nerve in its attempt to become a didactic guidebook for the good Christian. Lewis conflates far too many things with a dualistic interpretation of human experience - all good associated with his god, all bad with the devil (and the network of, honestly, entertainingly devilish demons). Something as natural as being happy is considered as a gift from god- something that "He" has bequeathed onto us and has nothing to do with our own free will, apparently - and something as innocent as drinking and enjoying hot cocoa is associated with the devil. It is a clever book that, even so, cannot mask the self-involved logic of a blameless god, forcing emotions and actions onto people and then backtracking and calling it free will.

As a work of fiction, it falls short as well. It doesn't so much follow any story as it sometimes elaborates on what seems like a tertiary plot line (I am not pointing this out as any kind of fault, only the nature of the book itself), but soon becomes very tiresome in its cyclical, formulaic progression - if I can even call it that.

I have so much to say about this book, and so little interest in actually caring about it. I can't even get started on the apparentness of Lewis' singular view of women, and his utterly dualistic notion of humanity. Just. Ugh.

Interesting, however, that devils should speak English and write like Lewis (who felt far to overwhelmed to compliment the book with a second opinion from an angel).