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488 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 1, 2012
“...everything you’ve ever known, everything you’ve ever believed about yourself... about the description of reality you’ve clung to so stubbornly all your life... all of it... every bit of it... is an illusion.” I know I’m repeating the quote from the beginning of the synopsis here (shown below), but it encapsulates the ideas behind this story beautifully.
Something you need to understand about me, to maybe help you understand why I loved this book so very, very much. I love villains. I’ve always loved villains—it all stems from early exposure to the Joker, I think. I root for the villain in superhero comics and cartoons and movies; I love stories where the villain has a good showing. A good villain will just make my entire month. And Paul? He’s an awesome villain. He’s charismatic. He’s joyfully cruel, gleefully evil. He loves to torture people. He’s like Hannibal Lecter if Hannibal Lecter had been kinda stinky, Irish, and not as dashing. Best of all, he’s absolutely convinced of the righteousness of his own actions. Paul... is my ideal sort of villain. I just wanted to follow him around (hiding of course—you don’t want that sort to notice you, after all) and watch everything he did with a sick and morbid fascination.The Book of Paul is the first of seven volumes in a sweeping mythological narrative tracing the mystical connections between Hermes Trismegistus in ancient Egypt, Sophia, the female counterpart of Christ, and the Celtic druids of Clan Kelly.
The tiny .22-caliber bullet was ricocheting inside her skull like a pinball, lighting up old memories of love and cruelty as it whipped the spidery gray filaments of her brain into a six-egg omelet.
The Striker punched him in the throat. “Aaack!” Paul gacked, hitting the floor with a thunderous boom!
Sometimes I think evil is just loneliness with nowhere else to go.
"It’s no mystery why we hide from death. We hide because we fear it. The greatest mystery of life is death. What force engineered this necessity? What is this thing we call ‘food’? We eat life, William. We eat life! And we eat it every single day!”
“Stories never end,” Paul grunted, “at least not the ones I tell.”