Winner of the 1992 Guardian Fiction prize, this beguiling and very short book (96pp) tells the story of a Faustian pact by which material success is ensured as one famous writer at the end of his career passes a manuscript to his successor.
The manuscript, you see, is the devil's work, and his acolyte, who never loses her perfect poise or her good looks, comes with the deal. But Edward, the recipient, hankers to write his own novels, though it seems he cannot. Though this exchange has happened many times before, with some, it seems, the process does not run smooth and Edward will never quite relinquish the conviction that he could write, untutored by the devil.
This take on Faust is witty, charming and implacably horrifying as the end approaches. The book's narrator is a man who speaks from the wings, not close to Edward, yet able to discern: "...the stillness of near-catatonic frenzy, the quiet of near-total despair." A man who learns the hard way that: "the reality of evil is that it is the opposite of real."