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Little, Brown and Company
<strong>A raw and blazing novel by "the single, most brain-searingly dangerous man of letters. Read him at your peril." (Anthony Bourdain)</strong><br><br> An aging New Yorker, a writer named Nick, feels life ebbing out of him. The world has gone to hell and Nick is so sick of it all that he can't even have a glass of champagne. Then one night he meets a tantalizing young woman who agrees to come back to his apartment. Their encounter is the most strangely extraordinary of his life. Propelled by uncontrollable, primordial desires, he enters a new and unimagined dimension of the forbidden and is filled with a sexual and spiritual ecstasy that is as intense as it is unholy.<br><br>Suddenly Nick's senses are alive. He feels strong, unconquerable, beyond all inhibition and earthly morality. He indulges in life's pleasures, pure and perverse, sublime and dangerous, from the delicate flavors of the perfect tomato to the fleshy beauty of a woman's thigh. But Nick's desire to sustain his rapture leads him to a madness and a darkness far greater and dreadful than have ever ridden the demon mares of night.<br><br>Writing in a lineage that includes Dante, William S. Burroughs, Charles Bukowski, Hubert Selby, Jr., and Hunter S. Thompson, Nick Tosches may be America's last real literary outlaw-a fearless, uncensorable seeker of our deepest secret truths and desires, from the basest to the most beautiful. <i>Me and the Devil</i> is outrageous, disturbing, and brilliant, a raw and blazing novel truly unlike any other. Like the man said: Read him at your peril.
Little, Brown and Company
<strong>Amazon Best Books of the Month, December 2012</strong>: Once upon a time--before heartthrob bloodsuckers sparkled in the sunlight of chaste daydreams--vampires meant sex and danger, blood and animal, Victorian taboo made <i>un</i>flesh, scratching at your windows in the small hours. In <i>Me and the Devil</i>, Nick Tosches doesn’t quite reach back to the Gothic (though he may reach for the Gnostic, if you want to dig into the seedier details) with his tale of an aging writer--a decrepit Drac of the New York night--who discovers rejuvenation in the femoral blood of his willing female complements. His book is so packed with grit, vice, and gore as to make it a queasy recommendation for unsuspecting readers, but if you think you’re ready, go for it. <i>Me and the Devil</i> is a throwback to the fearless writing of William Burroughs, Jim Carroll, and Richard Hell, a book heedless of boundaries and conscience. <i>--Jon Foro</i>