In the Hand of Dante Book

I wanted to put this book down after five pages of first-person narration by a violent, misogynistic misanthrope. But I couldn't. I was outraged, I was offended, and I was...still reading...and paying full attention.

In the tradition of Dante and de Sade, this novel about obsession and lust is engrossing, haunting, and I found it sucking me in almost against my will. A tour de force about corruption on a vast scale that makes The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco seem sophomoric.

The darkness and violence in this book would be intolerable except for the sheer talent, the unquestionable authority of the artist in complete control of his medium, with big ideas that demand attention.

To sound the depths of male human depravity, pair this with a similarly controversial book written in a completely different style, Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy. Both are masterpieces of their respective genres. This just happens to be a lesser-known one.

To compare this book with a similar novel that employs more restraint (and, I believe, better taste) but addresses similar existential and historical questions with equal intelligence, try Tropic of Night by Michael Gruber.