The Sorrows of Satan Book

This is one of those "lost opportunity" sort of novels. The premise of this book was a potentially clever and compelling twist on the Faustian legend. Unfortunately, Corelli, in her inimitable way, turned would-be Gothic tragedy into Monty-Pythonesque vaudeville.

Corelli's writing style--melodramatic, preachy and completely humorless, even for her era--makes it impossible to take anything in this book seriously. During the passages most meant to thrill the reader, one is instead left giggling at lines like, "when I recall those white leaves of days that were unrolled before me fresh and blank with every sunrise, and with which I did nothing save scrawl my own Ego in a foul smudge across each one, I tremble, and inwardly pray that I may never be forced to send back my self-written record!"

However, what most sent this book into a foul smudge was the "heroine," Mavis Claire. Mavis is angelic, pure, noble, high-minded, author of novels beloved by the public (yay!) and disdained by those petty, un-discerning, foul-minded critics (boo!) This character would be utterly insufferable in any case, but when one realizes Mavis is meant to be a self-portrait of the author, she becomes completely unreadable. This is quite possibly the most jaw-dropping ego trip I have ever seen in print, and every time Mavis appears on the page it is enough to make you want to send the book...to the Devil.

"Sorrows of Satan" has a certain perverse amusement value, but it is the sort of book that I could not read for more than a few pages at a time before feeling smothered by the sheer narcissistic looniness of it all.