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284 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
He swooned while still walking forward, and the angel stood quickly to catch him.
Sobran fell against a warm, firm pillow of muscle. He lay braced by a wing, pure sinew and bone under a cushion of feathers.
Sobran brought the angel his discontent, a savour to their talk, a refinement, like a paper screw of salt for a lunch to be eaten out-of-doors, at the edge of a meadow.
What he had wanted, with all his heart, was to match this being stride for stride over the miles. But a crippled angel will outstrip a man.


“You fainted and I caught you. It was the first time I'd supported a human. You had such heavy bones. I put myself between you and gravity. Impossible.”
Complete symmetry is an insult to God. Lucifer does everything as perfectly as he can.This is a beautiful work with some really nasty motivations behind it. What with Tumblr's ongoing Nipplegate and sex workers and queer people once again being eradicated in the name of the children no one can be bothered to equip with a bill of rights, leastwise in the USA, I am done with queer phobia, not to mention other bigotries, being normalized in my historical fiction. On the other hand, this novel reads like the very best of Rice before I discovered how far her selfish ridiculousness went: luxurious, sensual, subtle, and full to the brim of the sort of historical context I fled towards via fiction so often during my teenage maturation. If the comparisons to rice is not a compliment in your mind, I don't blame you it's more what could have been, or perhaps what it was at the very beginning, long before the mysticism turned rote on the marketplace and Rice's imagined worlds grew stale and pathetic in their confines of jealousy and misapprehension of how literature truly functions. The fact that I managed to get a copy from an actual publisher in New Zealand only adds to the magic. How far it has come, and how far it has yet to go, for good or ill.
Sobran found that he couldn't say, in prayer, 'God help me.' He didn't feel shame or fear. His desire was a triumph – Xas was so fine that of course Sobran should love him. God had made Xas beautiful, had made his clever tongue. 'What am I supposed to do?' Sobran asked God, laughing, and waving his desire up like the smoke of a sacrifice. 'This is what you get, Lord, for your great work.'
I had to give myself up to you for your lifetime. What is faith when you feel you’ve lost something forever? I had to have you – someone I could lose forever.
‘Plant a pepper tree. It should be big enough within twenty years to set a table under – all summer for your family, and for us, on our one night.’