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Devil's Contract: The History of the Faustian Bargain
A fascinating and accessible guide to the Faustian bargain throughout the ages, written in a lively and engaging style.
From ancient times to the modern world, the idea of the Faustian bargain -- the exchange of one's soul in return for untold riches and power -- has exerted a magnetic pull upon our collective imaginations.
Scholar Ed Simon takes us on a historical tour of the Faustian bargain, from biblical themes to the Charlie Daniels Band, and illustrates how the instinct for sacrificing our principles in exchange for power models all kinds of social ills, from colonialism to nuclear warfare, and even social media, climate change, and AI. In doing so, Simon conveys just how much the Faustian bargain shows us about power and evil ... and about ourselves.
From ancient times to the modern world, the idea of the Faustian bargain -- the exchange of one's soul in return for untold riches and power -- has exerted a magnetic pull upon our collective imaginations.
Scholar Ed Simon takes us on a historical tour of the Faustian bargain, from biblical themes to the Charlie Daniels Band, and illustrates how the instinct for sacrificing our principles in exchange for power models all kinds of social ills, from colonialism to nuclear warfare, and even social media, climate change, and AI. In doing so, Simon conveys just how much the Faustian bargain shows us about power and evil ... and about ourselves.
336 pages, Hardcover
First published July 9, 2024
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2809 people want to read
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July 28, 2024
My experience with Ed Simon's Devil's Contract: The History of the Faustian Bargain was uneven. For a while, I'd be highlighting passages, putting exclamation points next to interesting new ideas. Then, I'd find myself jotting notes like "Do I believe this?" or "And he's trying to say...?" I absolutely loved the moments when the book had me thinking and making connections I hadn't made before: for example, that one reading the Dead Sea Scrolls can bring one to the conclusion that mainstream Christianity (the historical narrative that one out) is, in fact, a Faustian bargain of sorts.
As a "collector" of Fausts—opera and play performances, books, museum art—I found that Devil's Contract was well worth the read despite its unevenness. I gave myself permission to speed up or slow down, depending on my own level of engagement and found my overall reading experience rewarding.
I received a free electronic review copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley; the opinions are my own.
As a "collector" of Fausts—opera and play performances, books, museum art—I found that Devil's Contract was well worth the read despite its unevenness. I gave myself permission to speed up or slow down, depending on my own level of engagement and found my overall reading experience rewarding.
I received a free electronic review copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley; the opinions are my own.
April 12, 2024
It’s like an Adam Curtis documentary on Rock and Roll.
The book describes itself as being about the Faustian bargain, but it is broader than that, dealing with any deal with the Devil, real or metaphoric.
It starts with the religious basis of such deals, as is found in the Abrahamic texts and their apocrypha, then describes the quasi-historical story of Faust, including detailed sketches on his major literary interpreters: Marlowe, Goethe, and Mann. Discussing the tradition of soul-selling artists, the book then considers more metaphorical Faustian deals in our modern world, going so far as to suggest that we are exiting the Anthropocene for the Faustocene, a period of history not about our control over the world but about our unease with that control and what payment it might extract.
There is a section late in the book where the author makes a rejoinder to Adorno’s statement that no poetry can exist after Auschwitz to suggest that poetry is all there is after the first successful nuclear weapons test. And that feels true to form as regards this book, which at points feels more like poetry, an extended riff on the idea of what it means for evil to have a personage, or even an anthology of essays.
I did particularly like the sections on the underlying history of how we get to Faust. The idea of the Faustocene is fun. There were a few sections like that on the ways that these ideas intersect with the Gnostic traditions or likewise with the traditions around the Blues, that felt to short. And there were points where it felt like too much triangulation around a topic, or textual meanders, showing up since the concept itself is so broad.
I was unaware that the author was a religion writer. It feels embarrassingly self-obvious not to think about how a book about the Devil would involve religious thought. I think that this serves the text, but I do think that a reader should be aware of it in the sense that I feel like some of the sections are much more rewarding with a working knowledge of Christianity, and it might change how you appreciate the book.
It is an inconsistent book, not in quality but in topicality, moving in a sort of stream of consciousness through various representations of the Devil and their works. Its expansive reach means that I feel that the reader will matter here more than usual, because of how many different things that the book is. That makes it hard to recommend, or at least go into it thinking that you will love parts and be left out by others, and that it is less historical or lit crit than conceptual and experiential.
It may be the first time that I wished a book was a video essay, in that serialization and visual editing would provide more architecture to the text, and the rambling nature fit spoken language more.
My thanks to the author, Ed Simon, for writing the book, and to the publisher, Melville House, for making the ARC available to me.
The book describes itself as being about the Faustian bargain, but it is broader than that, dealing with any deal with the Devil, real or metaphoric.
It starts with the religious basis of such deals, as is found in the Abrahamic texts and their apocrypha, then describes the quasi-historical story of Faust, including detailed sketches on his major literary interpreters: Marlowe, Goethe, and Mann. Discussing the tradition of soul-selling artists, the book then considers more metaphorical Faustian deals in our modern world, going so far as to suggest that we are exiting the Anthropocene for the Faustocene, a period of history not about our control over the world but about our unease with that control and what payment it might extract.
There is a section late in the book where the author makes a rejoinder to Adorno’s statement that no poetry can exist after Auschwitz to suggest that poetry is all there is after the first successful nuclear weapons test. And that feels true to form as regards this book, which at points feels more like poetry, an extended riff on the idea of what it means for evil to have a personage, or even an anthology of essays.
I did particularly like the sections on the underlying history of how we get to Faust. The idea of the Faustocene is fun. There were a few sections like that on the ways that these ideas intersect with the Gnostic traditions or likewise with the traditions around the Blues, that felt to short. And there were points where it felt like too much triangulation around a topic, or textual meanders, showing up since the concept itself is so broad.
I was unaware that the author was a religion writer. It feels embarrassingly self-obvious not to think about how a book about the Devil would involve religious thought. I think that this serves the text, but I do think that a reader should be aware of it in the sense that I feel like some of the sections are much more rewarding with a working knowledge of Christianity, and it might change how you appreciate the book.
It is an inconsistent book, not in quality but in topicality, moving in a sort of stream of consciousness through various representations of the Devil and their works. Its expansive reach means that I feel that the reader will matter here more than usual, because of how many different things that the book is. That makes it hard to recommend, or at least go into it thinking that you will love parts and be left out by others, and that it is less historical or lit crit than conceptual and experiential.
It may be the first time that I wished a book was a video essay, in that serialization and visual editing would provide more architecture to the text, and the rambling nature fit spoken language more.
My thanks to the author, Ed Simon, for writing the book, and to the publisher, Melville House, for making the ARC available to me.
August 16, 2024
The story of Faust, and the moral of the story, is part of our cultural spine. It’s not just the devil taken literally. It has to do with our sense of right and wrong and our willingness or unwillingness to suspend it for gain or ambition.
While Marlowe’s and Goethe’s Faust are the archetypes, the bargain takes so many forms as to be an almost constant possibility. There are very minor bargains that we all make — telling little white lies, for example, that save us from embarrassments or uncomfortable situations or that turn sick days into vacation days from work. It’s a bit grandiose to call those deals with the devil, but they are on the spectrum, just at the faint, pale end.
Then there are the bigger ones. Politicians who trade principles for power. Spouses who cheat. Businessmen who push unfair advantages with partners and customers. None of those things are shocking, they are almost taken-for-granted. Deals with the devil are part of the way things work.
And the history of our dealings with the devil. Simon is as much historian as he is sociologist or literary critic, and he takes us through a cultural history of Faustian bargains, beginning, in western history, with the Bible, with the story of the Fall and with the temptations of Christ.
It’s not though until we get to more modern times that an actual “contract” with the devil becomes a centerpiece. Simon notes that the “coven”, in a witches’ coven, derives from the word “covenant” denoting an explicit agreement between the witch and the devil. He also notes the infernal irony of witch trials and accusations, that it is the sanctimonious accusers who more likely have made a deal with the devil.
Simon goes on through the explicit tellings of the Faust story by Marlowe and Goethe, and then by Thomas Mann in the propitious context of Nazi Germany. Given how he has related the Faustian bargain to everyday compromises of our senses of right and wrong, Faust becomes iconic, an icon we can see in ourselves rather than just as a cautionary tale.
In his final chapters, Simon paints a dark, even apocalyptic picture of our own times, concluding that we are living in a “Faustocene” age, where we have in fact institutionalized deals with the devil, in our economic systems, our scientistic and meaning-free models of knowledge and reality, in our technological idolatry, and in our growing embrace of an authoritarianism that is frighteningly comfortable for its beneficiaries.
Whether you share his apocalyptic mood or not, there is homework to take away.
The constant presence of the bargain is overwhelming. It isn’t just in the moments when we tell the white lie, cheat at a game, etc. It’s more pervasively in our participation in institutions, practices, and structures of power and wealth, when we take advantage of whatever power or wealth we have to gain more power and wealth, knowing or at least being responsible for knowing that it is at someone else’s expense.
It’s in the normal practices of everyday consumer life when we buy products from companies that mistreat and underpay their employees, or when we buy and eat food products from companies that pollute the soil and water and that treat animals with unspeakable cruelty, all out of our sight.
The deal that Faust made with the devil was clear and out in the open. The ones we make on an everyday basis are not. They are shielded, implicit, even automatic.
And the deal that Faust made was clear in another way. Faust knew better. In some versions he was even warned by God or an angel of God. The bargain the devil offers Faust is a temptation away from something Faust knows to be right and good, whether that is God and faith or just plain old right as opposed to wrong.
By contrast, do we always know when we are making the bargain? When the devil is in the institutions, practices, and structures of our lives, do we even see him there?
While Marlowe’s and Goethe’s Faust are the archetypes, the bargain takes so many forms as to be an almost constant possibility. There are very minor bargains that we all make — telling little white lies, for example, that save us from embarrassments or uncomfortable situations or that turn sick days into vacation days from work. It’s a bit grandiose to call those deals with the devil, but they are on the spectrum, just at the faint, pale end.
Then there are the bigger ones. Politicians who trade principles for power. Spouses who cheat. Businessmen who push unfair advantages with partners and customers. None of those things are shocking, they are almost taken-for-granted. Deals with the devil are part of the way things work.
And the history of our dealings with the devil. Simon is as much historian as he is sociologist or literary critic, and he takes us through a cultural history of Faustian bargains, beginning, in western history, with the Bible, with the story of the Fall and with the temptations of Christ.
It’s not though until we get to more modern times that an actual “contract” with the devil becomes a centerpiece. Simon notes that the “coven”, in a witches’ coven, derives from the word “covenant” denoting an explicit agreement between the witch and the devil. He also notes the infernal irony of witch trials and accusations, that it is the sanctimonious accusers who more likely have made a deal with the devil.
Simon goes on through the explicit tellings of the Faust story by Marlowe and Goethe, and then by Thomas Mann in the propitious context of Nazi Germany. Given how he has related the Faustian bargain to everyday compromises of our senses of right and wrong, Faust becomes iconic, an icon we can see in ourselves rather than just as a cautionary tale.
In his final chapters, Simon paints a dark, even apocalyptic picture of our own times, concluding that we are living in a “Faustocene” age, where we have in fact institutionalized deals with the devil, in our economic systems, our scientistic and meaning-free models of knowledge and reality, in our technological idolatry, and in our growing embrace of an authoritarianism that is frighteningly comfortable for its beneficiaries.
Whether you share his apocalyptic mood or not, there is homework to take away.
The constant presence of the bargain is overwhelming. It isn’t just in the moments when we tell the white lie, cheat at a game, etc. It’s more pervasively in our participation in institutions, practices, and structures of power and wealth, when we take advantage of whatever power or wealth we have to gain more power and wealth, knowing or at least being responsible for knowing that it is at someone else’s expense.
It’s in the normal practices of everyday consumer life when we buy products from companies that mistreat and underpay their employees, or when we buy and eat food products from companies that pollute the soil and water and that treat animals with unspeakable cruelty, all out of our sight.
The deal that Faust made with the devil was clear and out in the open. The ones we make on an everyday basis are not. They are shielded, implicit, even automatic.
And the deal that Faust made was clear in another way. Faust knew better. In some versions he was even warned by God or an angel of God. The bargain the devil offers Faust is a temptation away from something Faust knows to be right and good, whether that is God and faith or just plain old right as opposed to wrong.
By contrast, do we always know when we are making the bargain? When the devil is in the institutions, practices, and structures of our lives, do we even see him there?
August 17, 2024
The "history" of the title is a bit a miscategorization. To wit, Ed Simon's Devil's Contract is bibliographically anaemic and passionately polemical, yet erudite; a work of literary and cultural critique, an essay of millennial scope and (perhaps too great) ambition. His language is exuberant, delighted in eloquence, exultant of the world-creating powers of the arts. Simon's thesis is no lesser than the promotion of Faustus in his iterations as the crucial allegorical figure of the Anthropocene, whose dealing with Heaven and Hell prefigure all the tragedy, contradictions and dilemmas of our modernity.
January 6, 2025
While full of interesting material, it's a real stretch to call this a history. Simon takes the general concept of selling your soul as the starting point to riff on all manner of matters occult or morally compromising. He talks around the major touchstones of the mythology, including sections on Marlowe, Goethe, Mann, Robert Johnson, and further afield, the Salem Witch Trials and the Witches' Sabbath generally. He ties the Faustian to totalitarianism, capitalism and American individualism.
A lot of this material is well-done, scribed in empurpled prose and wearing its erudition lightly. However, it's also frustrating if you want an actual genealogy of the idea, as Simon rarely bothers to submit logical or chronological connecting chains for his material. More properly, I'd call this "essays or ruminations" on the Faustian bargain. That's not a bad thing, but it's not what's advertised.
If you just want riffs, this is great. I really appreciated the parallels drawn between Simon Magus and the later Faust. I'm not sure we need further nomenclature for the age, but Simon's monologue on why we're living in the Faustocene at least accurately identifies our willingness to cook the planet for our hydrocarbon-scented dreams. Similarly, Simon sees the sulfurous in the Manhattan Project, noting the repentance many of its collaborators expressed once the nature of their bargain stood bare. Pace Mick Jagger and his sympathies, at least I got some of what I want from this book, even if I didn't get what I need. It would have earned an additional star if the dang subtitle had not misled me, but I suppose the Devil always has his tricks.
A lot of this material is well-done, scribed in empurpled prose and wearing its erudition lightly. However, it's also frustrating if you want an actual genealogy of the idea, as Simon rarely bothers to submit logical or chronological connecting chains for his material. More properly, I'd call this "essays or ruminations" on the Faustian bargain. That's not a bad thing, but it's not what's advertised.
If you just want riffs, this is great. I really appreciated the parallels drawn between Simon Magus and the later Faust. I'm not sure we need further nomenclature for the age, but Simon's monologue on why we're living in the Faustocene at least accurately identifies our willingness to cook the planet for our hydrocarbon-scented dreams. Similarly, Simon sees the sulfurous in the Manhattan Project, noting the repentance many of its collaborators expressed once the nature of their bargain stood bare. Pace Mick Jagger and his sympathies, at least I got some of what I want from this book, even if I didn't get what I need. It would have earned an additional star if the dang subtitle had not misled me, but I suppose the Devil always has his tricks.
September 23, 2024
A book full of interesting history and some good ideas, but the author's eccentricity gets in the way too often. I enjoyed some of the raves and rants but mostly just wanted to get by them to the actual substance of the book, a good review of the roots of the Faust story and its expression in Western culture.
I generally believe that Faust is the most prominent myth in European and Euro-American civilization, one that both illuminates and darkens the underlying assumptions of our history and society. Once one begins looking for it, it's at the very least an undercurrent in most of our fiction and drama, characteristic of both our heroes and our villains, when the quest for knowledge or power or love at any price becomes a double-edged blade. Our religions give evil a name but its nature is best understood when it becomes a temptation. For anyone with an interest in the deeper meanings of the devil and his bargains, this book is worthwhile reading, even with all the editorializing.
I generally believe that Faust is the most prominent myth in European and Euro-American civilization, one that both illuminates and darkens the underlying assumptions of our history and society. Once one begins looking for it, it's at the very least an undercurrent in most of our fiction and drama, characteristic of both our heroes and our villains, when the quest for knowledge or power or love at any price becomes a double-edged blade. Our religions give evil a name but its nature is best understood when it becomes a temptation. For anyone with an interest in the deeper meanings of the devil and his bargains, this book is worthwhile reading, even with all the editorializing.
July 15, 2024
The book is an interpretation of Faustian actions through the ages from the fourth century to modern times. Faustian theory being making pacts with the devil. The author illustrates how humans in every generation are likely to put aside their principles and convictions in exchange for "sins" such as wealth and power.
I only gave the book at this stage an average rating mainly because I felt that you need to have some knowledge of Faust to read this book successfully. Consequently I have put it aside and added Faust by Goethe to my TBR list and oce I have read this I will reread Ed Simon's book and update this review.
I only gave the book at this stage an average rating mainly because I felt that you need to have some knowledge of Faust to read this book successfully. Consequently I have put it aside and added Faust by Goethe to my TBR list and oce I have read this I will reread Ed Simon's book and update this review.
August 29, 2024
There were some interesting parts of this book, but it isn't really a straightforward history of the Faustian story, if such a thing is possible. The evolution of the Faustian myth is more a jumping off point for the author's sometimes fascinating, sometimes not entirely substantiated musings on various aspects of religion, history, and myth
April 8, 2025
Over all I thought this was an engaging overview of the legends surrounding the Faustian bargain and the ideas presented here encompass many aspects and avenues of examining the central conceit. I liked the writing style so I generally enjoyed reading these forays into various meandering topics related to the myths, but I found some of the chapters of much more interest to me than others.
Read
October 17, 2024Unfortunately not an instructional manual you guys, but a very interesting read anyway
August 27, 2024
Thank you to NetGalley for providing me an ARC of this book for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
As someone deeply interested in Christian religious history and trope use throughout history, this book was incredible! It was such a wonderful deep dive into the various historical and literary uses of the Faustian bargain and the many iterations it has gone through. The author clearly did a lot of meticulous research to prepare this book, and it shows.
It also provides some wonderful philosophical quandaries about our connection with and participation in Faustian bargains as they relate to capitalism and ethical consumption. I'll be thinking on the points it brought up for a while.
In addition to the content, the writing style was beautiful. I have added several of the author's other books to my TBR because I enjoyed both his content and style so much!
Publication date: 9 July 2024
As someone deeply interested in Christian religious history and trope use throughout history, this book was incredible! It was such a wonderful deep dive into the various historical and literary uses of the Faustian bargain and the many iterations it has gone through. The author clearly did a lot of meticulous research to prepare this book, and it shows.
It also provides some wonderful philosophical quandaries about our connection with and participation in Faustian bargains as they relate to capitalism and ethical consumption. I'll be thinking on the points it brought up for a while.
In addition to the content, the writing style was beautiful. I have added several of the author's other books to my TBR because I enjoyed both his content and style so much!
Publication date: 9 July 2024
November 10, 2024
I am not smart enough for this book
November 12, 2024
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by reading this review on my website. [I am cross-posting the whole review here because of how the scoring system on goodreads works. It doesn't seem fair to mysteriously leave a pretty good book two stars.]
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I’ve begun to take umbrage at the calculating and self-protective adages surrounding expectation: “Plan for the worst”; “lower your sights”; Any other hackneyed thesis about how it is best to be pleasantly surprised by the bare minimum. All are actively harmful. Fie on them, I say. Anticipation, excitement, and hype are all worthy feelings, in and of themselves, even when they lead to naught. One can live in a vibrant world of hope or choose the self-inflicted misery of constantly bracing for disappointment—it doesn’t make you stupid to be reasonably excited for something, and then to be proven wrong.
I came into Devil’s Contract: The History of the Faustian Bargain with sky-high expectations. It was my spooky month book select, a Halloween treat to prefigure the looming darkness of the season (though I live in a climate where “season” means slightly wetter and mildly chillier, not great bursts of arboreal color celebrating the death of another year). Theming your book selections temporally or via travel destinations is one of life’s great pleasures; you’re in charge! You can read whatever you want! Make it thematic. And so I turned to Devil’s Contract with eyes gleaming bright with October desire.
The book has virtues: the theming is strong; the concepts are so very interesting. To me, though, the contract needed to be proofread a few more times before it was executed. I do not blame the writing because there are chapters that flow smoothly, chapters that feel ironed out, even slick. For the most part, though the small errors in formatting and the larger choices of structure in each individual sentence made the book feel unpleasant to actually read. An example:
I’m not even here for the minutia that I would pick at if Devil’s Contract were a book I didn’t like. Petty oversights, like losing the italics on the back half of the title The Silver Chalice during a line break on page 18, or having dozens of paragraphs start with double tabs with no intentionality that I can decipher, are, to me, an issue with under-edited text. This theory seems more reasonable when you look at, say, Chapter 10. After finishing the whole book, I was certain Chapter 10 had to be an adaptation of a previously published essay, and this suspicion was easily proven correct with a fast search. There are no stumbles in Chapter 10. It reads really well, the writing is strong and clear, and the tone and voice are consistent with the rest of the book—those other chapters simply lack polish. If the whole book was written (and edited, I suspect) like Chapter ten, Devil’s Contract would be a straight banger. The main issue, to me, was the amount of times I was tasked with reading thirty words split apart with five different commas:
The lack of polish–polish that only comes from reading and editing and reading and editing–simply pops up far too often:
I have to emphasize, again, for you and for myself in the future, that I intuited that chapter 10 was constructed in a distinct way without knowing that it was an essay published online two years before the book was released. As much as I am disappointed in the joylessness of reading such an interesting subject, there were still some clever turns and worthwhile structures in some of the other chapters:
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Read more reviews at dinaburgwrites.com.
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I’ve begun to take umbrage at the calculating and self-protective adages surrounding expectation: “Plan for the worst”; “lower your sights”; Any other hackneyed thesis about how it is best to be pleasantly surprised by the bare minimum. All are actively harmful. Fie on them, I say. Anticipation, excitement, and hype are all worthy feelings, in and of themselves, even when they lead to naught. One can live in a vibrant world of hope or choose the self-inflicted misery of constantly bracing for disappointment—it doesn’t make you stupid to be reasonably excited for something, and then to be proven wrong.
I came into Devil’s Contract: The History of the Faustian Bargain with sky-high expectations. It was my spooky month book select, a Halloween treat to prefigure the looming darkness of the season (though I live in a climate where “season” means slightly wetter and mildly chillier, not great bursts of arboreal color celebrating the death of another year). Theming your book selections temporally or via travel destinations is one of life’s great pleasures; you’re in charge! You can read whatever you want! Make it thematic. And so I turned to Devil’s Contract with eyes gleaming bright with October desire.
The book has virtues: the theming is strong; the concepts are so very interesting. To me, though, the contract needed to be proofread a few more times before it was executed. I do not blame the writing because there are chapters that flow smoothly, chapters that feel ironed out, even slick. For the most part, though the small errors in formatting and the larger choices of structure in each individual sentence made the book feel unpleasant to actually read. An example:
Faust’s story begins with Simon Magus, for his is the forerunner of all Faustian bargains, the first to sell his soul to the Devil (or, more paradoxically as the story has it, to sell his soul to God). Whoever wrote the Testimony of Truth was referencing a group known as the Simonians after their founder, a sect accused of any number of impieties and obscenities, of practicing semen- and blood-besmirched orgies as religious rituals, and who called upon supernatural entities to acquire profane powers.This styling isn’t an aberration but self-selected: most sentences are needlessly dense and branch in ways that don’t lead to interesting discoveries but repetitive backtracking. Lord knows I am not the cleanest writer on the planet: that I love the m-dash; that the anti-parenthetical plea from Strunk/White fell on deaf ears with me; that one labyrinthine sentence will suffice when three should probably emerge. So when I say I strongly dislike the way Devil’s Contract is written it is with full, Faustian knowledge of glass houses and thrown stones.
I’m not even here for the minutia that I would pick at if Devil’s Contract were a book I didn’t like. Petty oversights, like losing the italics on the back half of the title The Silver Chalice during a line break on page 18, or having dozens of paragraphs start with double tabs with no intentionality that I can decipher, are, to me, an issue with under-edited text. This theory seems more reasonable when you look at, say, Chapter 10. After finishing the whole book, I was certain Chapter 10 had to be an adaptation of a previously published essay, and this suspicion was easily proven correct with a fast search. There are no stumbles in Chapter 10. It reads really well, the writing is strong and clear, and the tone and voice are consistent with the rest of the book—those other chapters simply lack polish. If the whole book was written (and edited, I suspect) like Chapter ten, Devil’s Contract would be a straight banger. The main issue, to me, was the amount of times I was tasked with reading thirty words split apart with five different commas:
In drawing the strange tale of Theophilus to a close, Hrotsvitha’s words were recorded on vellum of sheep or goat’s skin scraped clean and tanned, stained with ink of charcoal gum and tannic acid, like all Medieval literature written onto the corpses of God’s creatures, the resultant manuscript an intricate mechanism of ligament and tendon, the Word become flesh.This is a nice sentence, in theory. But its impact in reality is not elegant. There is no cohesiveness–no pointed directive–and the signposts that are required to make a grand point in an otherwise complex format don’t exist. In the end, constant musings and flowing, expansive thoughts put down on paper don’t create an atmosphere of trust–I don’t believe that the conclusions we are presented are always where the author intended the text to take the reader. Personally, I know my points get muddled when I don’t re-read and re-write them for clarity, burning off the detritus of my initial flourishes. In the above sentence, for example, I see what I think it wants to be–an object lesson in incantatory phrasing, a written metaphor for thoughts transforming into words, and words into written letters–but I also see what it is: stooped from carrying too many clauses.
The lack of polish–polish that only comes from reading and editing and reading and editing–simply pops up far too often:
Any presumed different between the urbane, sophisticated, and educated Dr. Faust and the women accused of witchcraft has more to do with the vagaries of class and gender than it does with any appreciable difference between the two types of story.This is on page 117, followed by only half a page of text, and then:
That witchcraft isn’t commonly thought of as Faustian may be attributed to the vagaries of class and gender, a separation between the high culture character of the necromancy and the low culture figure of the witch, but both were in communion with the devil.These were certainly the same thought, clearly written at temporally distinct times and then sutured back together without a cohesive edit. I don’t think they should be so close, so similar. I do think that Devil’s Contract has the shape of an intended audiobook, or a podcast (non-derogatory). Perhaps even a personal, self-edited website. Quelle horreur.
I have to emphasize, again, for you and for myself in the future, that I intuited that chapter 10 was constructed in a distinct way without knowing that it was an essay published online two years before the book was released. As much as I am disappointed in the joylessness of reading such an interesting subject, there were still some clever turns and worthwhile structures in some of the other chapters:
Drawing upon stories (scurrilous, apocryphal, and some real) that Alexander VI was in an incestuous relationship with his daughter Lucrezia or that he hosted an orgy with Roman prostitutes within St. Peter’s remembered as the “banquet of chestnuts,” Barnes’s play is prosaic Reformation-era anti-Catholic agitprop, of little interest other than to historians and literary scholars, mostly lacking in the same subtleties that are so engaging in Marlowe’s play. Most crucially, Alexander VI simply sells his soul for power–that old banquet of chestnuts–so that the philosophical considerations that Marlowe makes about creation and imagination, illusion and reality, are totally exorcized.Solid callback on the old chestnut cliché. That’s good stuff. I have no qualms about having read Devil’s Contract, nor even any in recommending it—the subject matter is interesting, and style is simply a matter of taste. You might love how it is constructed. I fully recommend being excited before you pick it up: grudging, cautious obligation toward a text is best reserved for actual legal contracts.
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February 25, 2024
This title combines the best features of both the creative non-fiction and microhistory genres.
The Devil’s Contract is a comprehensive and entertaining a non-fiction book on this subject as one could like. In exploring the roots, advent, and legacy of the Faust legend, author Ed Simon connects threads as disparate as Gnosticism, medieval illuminated manuscripts, an assassinated Romanian intellectual, and finally the Manhattan project. Throughout the author showcases his wit and verve, adding linguistic and artistic flourishes that keep the pace lively and engaging. Like a skilled actor, the author draws you in and then takes you on a sprawling journey, compelling you all the while with the merit of his story and the artfulness of his delivery.
While I personally felt that a few of the later chapters strayed somewhat from the initial scope of the book, I can easily forgive authorial wanderings as interesting and delightful to read as these. This title should be required reading for anyone interested in the growth and evolution of the Faust legend; it demonstrates impeccably why this myth is so enduring and so central to much of later western culture.
The Devil’s Contract is a comprehensive and entertaining a non-fiction book on this subject as one could like. In exploring the roots, advent, and legacy of the Faust legend, author Ed Simon connects threads as disparate as Gnosticism, medieval illuminated manuscripts, an assassinated Romanian intellectual, and finally the Manhattan project. Throughout the author showcases his wit and verve, adding linguistic and artistic flourishes that keep the pace lively and engaging. Like a skilled actor, the author draws you in and then takes you on a sprawling journey, compelling you all the while with the merit of his story and the artfulness of his delivery.
While I personally felt that a few of the later chapters strayed somewhat from the initial scope of the book, I can easily forgive authorial wanderings as interesting and delightful to read as these. This title should be required reading for anyone interested in the growth and evolution of the Faust legend; it demonstrates impeccably why this myth is so enduring and so central to much of later western culture.
January 31, 2024
Outstanding cultural theory of one of the central tropes of Western civilization.
May 12, 2024
My thanks to both NetGalley and the publisher Melville House Publishing for an advance copy of this new book that looks at the idea of making a deal that promises much, but asks for so much more, in media, religion, and even in our history, and what this tells us about ourselves.
One doesn't have to look to far in America to see people who have made Faustian bargains, sold their soul for well not rock n roll, but fame, money, and power. Turn on the news and see these people who promote the last president of this nation, the one who is on trial in quite a few states. These supporters all have the look of people who have given up, their eyes dead, knowing they made a mistake, but that little taste of power was just too much. Even in our everyday life we make deals with corporate devils. Here is the latest well super special phone. It can do amazing things, and will make your life better. Oh but it is made by exploiting children in Asia, and causing untold environmental destruction in Africa. Now, go do a little dance on TikTok. One might not lose their immortal soul, but maybe a little humanity. Or a bit of the world is gone for the next generation. So one can watch videos at full volume on an airplane. Ed Simon in his book Devil's Contract: The History of the Faustian Bargain looks at the Faustian bargain, in media, religion, and unfortunately in the real world, an arrangement that so many seem to enter into, with arms wide open and consequences be darned.
The book is written as a series of essays looking at different bargains made by different people, from musicians, magicians, children of gods, and simple people trying to get a better deal. Simon begins with an explanation about how the idea of a deal to better one's life for the short term, with either an eternity of hellfire, or public scorn and becoming a joke throughout history is so important to both art and for understanding the motivations of real people. Simon starts with Christopher Marlowe's play Doctor Faustus, not the first place this idea started, but one of the more popular, and wonders what cost Marlowe payed, dying in a pub either over and unpaid bill, or because of his supposed intelligence work. A name known, but not as known as fellow playwright William Shakespeare. Simon looks at the story of Simon Magnus, and even at the book and film version of The Last Temptation of Christ, to show that even the son of God can be tempted by a good deal, even in the short run. The legend of Robert Johnson at the Crossroads, is told as well as discussions on modern media, like Robert Egger's The Witch. Simon also looks at the real world, such as the Manhattan Project, a plan that could have ended war for all time, by ending everything.
Ed Simon is a fascinating writer, with knowledge about media that mixes well with his knowledge of the esoteric. Simon is also a very good writer, and though the essays range through time and space, real to imagined, Simon keeps everything together, with both writing skill and the ability to keep making everything so darned interesting. From theaters, to buildings lost, to the Bible, to the Deep South, and the deserts of New Mexico, Simon keeps everything together, and make one think much about the life we life, and what we compromise on. In the end almost everything looks Faustian, good education, good job, big money, miss your family, get fired, lose everything, death. Maybe it is not the soul we trade, but the time that we lose is the biggest lose in these bargains we take part in.
Recommended for literary readers, philosophical thinkers, and people who like collections that make one think. I've read a few things by Ed Simon over the years, and this is the one that made me think the most, and wonder about life. I can't wait to read what Simon publishes next.
One doesn't have to look to far in America to see people who have made Faustian bargains, sold their soul for well not rock n roll, but fame, money, and power. Turn on the news and see these people who promote the last president of this nation, the one who is on trial in quite a few states. These supporters all have the look of people who have given up, their eyes dead, knowing they made a mistake, but that little taste of power was just too much. Even in our everyday life we make deals with corporate devils. Here is the latest well super special phone. It can do amazing things, and will make your life better. Oh but it is made by exploiting children in Asia, and causing untold environmental destruction in Africa. Now, go do a little dance on TikTok. One might not lose their immortal soul, but maybe a little humanity. Or a bit of the world is gone for the next generation. So one can watch videos at full volume on an airplane. Ed Simon in his book Devil's Contract: The History of the Faustian Bargain looks at the Faustian bargain, in media, religion, and unfortunately in the real world, an arrangement that so many seem to enter into, with arms wide open and consequences be darned.
The book is written as a series of essays looking at different bargains made by different people, from musicians, magicians, children of gods, and simple people trying to get a better deal. Simon begins with an explanation about how the idea of a deal to better one's life for the short term, with either an eternity of hellfire, or public scorn and becoming a joke throughout history is so important to both art and for understanding the motivations of real people. Simon starts with Christopher Marlowe's play Doctor Faustus, not the first place this idea started, but one of the more popular, and wonders what cost Marlowe payed, dying in a pub either over and unpaid bill, or because of his supposed intelligence work. A name known, but not as known as fellow playwright William Shakespeare. Simon looks at the story of Simon Magnus, and even at the book and film version of The Last Temptation of Christ, to show that even the son of God can be tempted by a good deal, even in the short run. The legend of Robert Johnson at the Crossroads, is told as well as discussions on modern media, like Robert Egger's The Witch. Simon also looks at the real world, such as the Manhattan Project, a plan that could have ended war for all time, by ending everything.
Ed Simon is a fascinating writer, with knowledge about media that mixes well with his knowledge of the esoteric. Simon is also a very good writer, and though the essays range through time and space, real to imagined, Simon keeps everything together, with both writing skill and the ability to keep making everything so darned interesting. From theaters, to buildings lost, to the Bible, to the Deep South, and the deserts of New Mexico, Simon keeps everything together, and make one think much about the life we life, and what we compromise on. In the end almost everything looks Faustian, good education, good job, big money, miss your family, get fired, lose everything, death. Maybe it is not the soul we trade, but the time that we lose is the biggest lose in these bargains we take part in.
Recommended for literary readers, philosophical thinkers, and people who like collections that make one think. I've read a few things by Ed Simon over the years, and this is the one that made me think the most, and wonder about life. I can't wait to read what Simon publishes next.
July 3, 2025
Tl;dr: I didn't much like this book, although I thought parts of it were interesting and against my better judgment I did finish it. What follows is an angry rant I wrote 3/4 of the way through :')
~~~
This book begins with the historical predecessors of Dr. Faust, offering an illuminating insight into Simon Magus and other apocryphal and historical figures who supposedly made deals with supernatural beings to receive commensurate power. We then take a look at the man himself, and define a Faustian bargain after the tradition laid down by Dr. Faust: a contractual obligation with the Devil.
Then, over the course of a few hundred more pages riddled with typos (not to be pedantic, but... seriously, who was the editor?), ineffectual end notes, and enough usages of the word "cthonic" to make a moderately successful drinking game out of, Simon (the author, not the magus) beats us over the head with his true thesis: that any decision that requires any amount of sacrifice and grants any amount of advantage is a Faustian bargain. Choosing to remain alive in a late-stage capitalistic world is a Faustian bargain.
Which, okay, fair. It's not a bad argument. But my general impression is that the core premise of the book is diluted through overexposure. If any choice we make in a modern society is a Faustian bargain, is there any point in even defining the term? (And anyway, The Good Place did the whole "there is no ethical consumption under capitalism" thing better.)
The place where this argument most falls flat is likely where the author hoped to really hammer it home - describing fascism as a Faustian bargain. For 20th century authors writing about the totalitarian horrors they were living through, I think allegory is a powerful tool. For a historical perspective to describe Hitler and Stalin as "Mephistopholean figures" misses the mark pretty drastically, I think. The real tragedy of the last hundred years (because we're certainly not out of the woods yet) is that these genocides and wars were perpetrated by humans. Simon gets so close to arriving at a more reasonable conclusion - "That such evil had no need for a Devil" - and then continues to call it Faustian.
I think this could have worked very well as an essay, or perhaps with the subtitle "Our Daily Faustian Bargains", but the argument as he tried to frame it and tried (or rather didn't try, not with sufficient sources anyway) to support it just doesn't work. But hey, maybe it's my fault for going into Devil's Contract: the History of the Faustian Bargain and expecting a history of the Faustian archetype, rather than a type of "guy who's really into Faust, seeing any kind of choice: hey this reminds me of Faust" situation. Maybe I could have forgiven it if the author just had more command of his prose and a better editor.
Or maybe reading this book was a kind of Faustian bargain in itself, signing my soul to thelibrary Devil for the hours it took to read, in exchange for a better understanding of what I DON'T like in books-
~~~
After finishing the book, I do think he recovered some credibility in the last few chapters on Hollywood and the information age (because clicking "I agree" to a terms & conditions you didn't read is a much more apt comparison to Faust's deal!), although man. What a downer ending.
~~~
This book begins with the historical predecessors of Dr. Faust, offering an illuminating insight into Simon Magus and other apocryphal and historical figures who supposedly made deals with supernatural beings to receive commensurate power. We then take a look at the man himself, and define a Faustian bargain after the tradition laid down by Dr. Faust: a contractual obligation with the Devil.
Then, over the course of a few hundred more pages riddled with typos (not to be pedantic, but... seriously, who was the editor?), ineffectual end notes, and enough usages of the word "cthonic" to make a moderately successful drinking game out of, Simon (the author, not the magus) beats us over the head with his true thesis: that any decision that requires any amount of sacrifice and grants any amount of advantage is a Faustian bargain. Choosing to remain alive in a late-stage capitalistic world is a Faustian bargain.
Which, okay, fair. It's not a bad argument. But my general impression is that the core premise of the book is diluted through overexposure. If any choice we make in a modern society is a Faustian bargain, is there any point in even defining the term? (And anyway, The Good Place did the whole "there is no ethical consumption under capitalism" thing better.)
The place where this argument most falls flat is likely where the author hoped to really hammer it home - describing fascism as a Faustian bargain. For 20th century authors writing about the totalitarian horrors they were living through, I think allegory is a powerful tool. For a historical perspective to describe Hitler and Stalin as "Mephistopholean figures" misses the mark pretty drastically, I think. The real tragedy of the last hundred years (because we're certainly not out of the woods yet) is that these genocides and wars were perpetrated by humans. Simon gets so close to arriving at a more reasonable conclusion - "That such evil had no need for a Devil" - and then continues to call it Faustian.
I think this could have worked very well as an essay, or perhaps with the subtitle "Our Daily Faustian Bargains", but the argument as he tried to frame it and tried (or rather didn't try, not with sufficient sources anyway) to support it just doesn't work. But hey, maybe it's my fault for going into Devil's Contract: the History of the Faustian Bargain and expecting a history of the Faustian archetype, rather than a type of "guy who's really into Faust, seeing any kind of choice: hey this reminds me of Faust" situation. Maybe I could have forgiven it if the author just had more command of his prose and a better editor.
Or maybe reading this book was a kind of Faustian bargain in itself, signing my soul to the
~~~
After finishing the book, I do think he recovered some credibility in the last few chapters on Hollywood and the information age (because clicking "I agree" to a terms & conditions you didn't read is a much more apt comparison to Faust's deal!), although man. What a downer ending.
July 28, 2024
Devil's Contract: The History of the Faustian Bargain by Ed Simon is a cultural extravaganza, covering theatrical works, music, art, and literature with a dash of history, science, and technology. It would make an interesting multimedia presentation if the book were packaged with Tartini’s “Devil’s Trill Sonata” and Robert Johnson’s “Cross Road Blues,” scenes from Marlowe and Goethe plays, and art by Goya and Delacroix. After all, not all these works are familiar to the average reader.
Some early stories from the Bible and Apocrypha don’t fulfill the devil’s contract. For instance, Jesus wandered 40 days in the wilderness and rejected the devil’s tests. Simon Magus—a sorcerer who bewitched the people of Samaria—listened to Philip the Evangelist preach, believed, and was baptized. But when Simon saw the apostles laying on of hands, he wanted to buy that power, but was denied. Author Ed Simon uses these stories to set up the next stage.
During the Inquisitions and subsequent witch trials, interrogators steeped in demonology coerced victims under torture to claim relationships with the devil. That contract needed a name. So, in the late 16th century, German alchemist and sorcerer Johann Faust went from folk legend to the archetype of one who sold his soul to the devil. His supposed deed influenced writers, artists, musicians, and more. In fact, Simon even gets into a groove where his phraseology changes, skipping over verbs, waxing lyrical.
And then he comes crashing down. By chapter 10, Simon inserts his 21st century ideals onto 17th century life in the New World when writing about the 1692 Salem witch trials. He also, like many high school English teachers, gets caught up in Arthur Miller’s 1953 play, The Crucible, which rewrites actual history into a story of an affair that never happened.
Simon then trounces the Puritans and their Calvinist religion hard, with their theft of native lands, slavery, misogyny, and belief in predestination. Here, he believes that the Faustian bargain is written in the town charters, not between, say, the devil and an accused witch.
Curiously, though, by the third generation—around the time of the witch trials—many Massachusetts Bay people were moving away from Calvinism, forcing religious leaders to compromise with the Halfway Covenant and other religious principles. Plus, the dying off of the older generations—like Judge William Stoughton—also made way for more liberal ideas and beliefs, leading to another revolt of “no taxation without representation.”
But Simon doesn’t acknowledge that progress and holds Salem—not Boston, New York City, or Los Angeles—accountable for turning the United States into a Faustian Republic. Then he closes his diatribe with another religious metaphor, the Apocalypse.
Devil’s Contract begins with a journey through the Arts, then takes a wild hairpin turn. Halfway through, it’s as if Simon had a dark epiphany that changed the direction of his writing. It’s unsettling. And maybe that’s the point.
Some early stories from the Bible and Apocrypha don’t fulfill the devil’s contract. For instance, Jesus wandered 40 days in the wilderness and rejected the devil’s tests. Simon Magus—a sorcerer who bewitched the people of Samaria—listened to Philip the Evangelist preach, believed, and was baptized. But when Simon saw the apostles laying on of hands, he wanted to buy that power, but was denied. Author Ed Simon uses these stories to set up the next stage.
During the Inquisitions and subsequent witch trials, interrogators steeped in demonology coerced victims under torture to claim relationships with the devil. That contract needed a name. So, in the late 16th century, German alchemist and sorcerer Johann Faust went from folk legend to the archetype of one who sold his soul to the devil. His supposed deed influenced writers, artists, musicians, and more. In fact, Simon even gets into a groove where his phraseology changes, skipping over verbs, waxing lyrical.
And then he comes crashing down. By chapter 10, Simon inserts his 21st century ideals onto 17th century life in the New World when writing about the 1692 Salem witch trials. He also, like many high school English teachers, gets caught up in Arthur Miller’s 1953 play, The Crucible, which rewrites actual history into a story of an affair that never happened.
Simon then trounces the Puritans and their Calvinist religion hard, with their theft of native lands, slavery, misogyny, and belief in predestination. Here, he believes that the Faustian bargain is written in the town charters, not between, say, the devil and an accused witch.
Curiously, though, by the third generation—around the time of the witch trials—many Massachusetts Bay people were moving away from Calvinism, forcing religious leaders to compromise with the Halfway Covenant and other religious principles. Plus, the dying off of the older generations—like Judge William Stoughton—also made way for more liberal ideas and beliefs, leading to another revolt of “no taxation without representation.”
But Simon doesn’t acknowledge that progress and holds Salem—not Boston, New York City, or Los Angeles—accountable for turning the United States into a Faustian Republic. Then he closes his diatribe with another religious metaphor, the Apocalypse.
Devil’s Contract begins with a journey through the Arts, then takes a wild hairpin turn. Halfway through, it’s as if Simon had a dark epiphany that changed the direction of his writing. It’s unsettling. And maybe that’s the point.
April 22, 2025
It was a STRUGGLE to get through this book. I would say that it is egregiously miscategorized and in desperate need of a shaving down by an editor. The topics it covers are overly broad; instead of actually covering some historical phenomenon related to Faust that I was excited to read about in more depth, there are instead entire chapters comparing modern American capitalism and politics to a Faustian bargain. Points like this aren't *unfair,* and could in fact be thought provoking in the correct context. "The History of the Faustian Bargain" does not feel like it is the appropriate context. This is a philosophical opinion piece, not a historical text.
Nothing is more frustrating than needing to keep google open when reading a "history" book because the author doesn't include images, citations, or meaningful footnotes (the footnotes here are usually only loosely related, or formulated like an afterthought the author couldn't manage to stuff into the already dense pages). This book is also LOADED with an incredible number of rambling run on sentences stuffed with sesquipedalian synonyms. The pages of the author's thesaurus are sticky with his own ego (sorry). The writing suggests that the author expects for this to be an enduring text referenced by readers for years to come. I cannot imagine cursing anyone else with this book.
This is just so incredibly dense in a way that it doesn't need to be. Each chapter is more of a personal essay or tirade rather than a historical deep dive. As a lover of Faust and a collector of devil books, I am not allergic to dense or historical texts; in fact, I generally love them! What I do not love is wordiness for the sake of wordiness, and broad claims lacking any citation. There are in fact a handful of historical errors and a healthy smattering of grammatical ones. These issues should have been caught in the editing process, but they were not- suggesting to me that the purpose of this book was not education.
I finished it, but am I better for it? Its hard to say.
Nothing is more frustrating than needing to keep google open when reading a "history" book because the author doesn't include images, citations, or meaningful footnotes (the footnotes here are usually only loosely related, or formulated like an afterthought the author couldn't manage to stuff into the already dense pages). This book is also LOADED with an incredible number of rambling run on sentences stuffed with sesquipedalian synonyms. The pages of the author's thesaurus are sticky with his own ego (sorry). The writing suggests that the author expects for this to be an enduring text referenced by readers for years to come. I cannot imagine cursing anyone else with this book.
This is just so incredibly dense in a way that it doesn't need to be. Each chapter is more of a personal essay or tirade rather than a historical deep dive. As a lover of Faust and a collector of devil books, I am not allergic to dense or historical texts; in fact, I generally love them! What I do not love is wordiness for the sake of wordiness, and broad claims lacking any citation. There are in fact a handful of historical errors and a healthy smattering of grammatical ones. These issues should have been caught in the editing process, but they were not- suggesting to me that the purpose of this book was not education.
I finished it, but am I better for it? Its hard to say.
August 13, 2024
A mix between collection "faustian" stories throughout history, the evolution of the Faust story itself, a bit of religious history, and how the world will probably end as a result of our own indulgences (which, yeah).
The writing is a bit too academic for me - it needs a lot of trimming down, and sometimes just goes on and on waxing poetic about whatever topic the chapter focuses on. But I did enjoy learning about each aspect of history through the lens of a "faustian bargain", even before Faust existed. I also enjoyed the discussion of Goethe's work helping kick-off the era of Romanticism. He also uses the concept of "selling your soul" to talk about witchcraft and the fine line between someone who's a cunning man/woman or a patroned magician and who's a witch.
There is a very annoying error in his chapter about Hollywood though: Simon writes that Anya Taylor Joy's character in The Witch (2015) is named Katherine, and refers to the character as Katherine for several pages. But Taylor-Joy's character is named Thomasin, something the editors really should have caught. Or leads me to believe he didn't actually see the movie lol
But overall I really recommend it as an interesting lens to view history, IF you can tolerate the over-writing
The writing is a bit too academic for me - it needs a lot of trimming down, and sometimes just goes on and on waxing poetic about whatever topic the chapter focuses on. But I did enjoy learning about each aspect of history through the lens of a "faustian bargain", even before Faust existed. I also enjoyed the discussion of Goethe's work helping kick-off the era of Romanticism. He also uses the concept of "selling your soul" to talk about witchcraft and the fine line between someone who's a cunning man/woman or a patroned magician and who's a witch.
There is a very annoying error in his chapter about Hollywood though: Simon writes that Anya Taylor Joy's character in The Witch (2015) is named Katherine, and refers to the character as Katherine for several pages. But Taylor-Joy's character is named Thomasin, something the editors really should have caught. Or leads me to believe he didn't actually see the movie lol
But overall I really recommend it as an interesting lens to view history, IF you can tolerate the over-writing
March 7, 2025
Intermittently intriguing enough to be worth your while, this book is part history, part meandering thought experiment, expanding the definition of a Faustian bargain to cover...so much, wow. Some parts made perfect sense, others were a stretch, still others were a stretch but he sold me on them.
It felt sort of like watching a series of interconnected short documentaries/video essays in the sense that I bet taking in one or two at once when you're in the mood is great, but you don't really want to sit down for eight hours in a row on the topic. I read this when I wasn't reading anything else and that was to its detriment as the boring parts (to me) stood out more and sometimes kind of put me to sleep. This is a good one to pick up a couple chapters at a time though, and I am overall glad I read it. Some interesting ideas in here!
My thanks to Melville House Publishing and NetGalley for the ARC.
It felt sort of like watching a series of interconnected short documentaries/video essays in the sense that I bet taking in one or two at once when you're in the mood is great, but you don't really want to sit down for eight hours in a row on the topic. I read this when I wasn't reading anything else and that was to its detriment as the boring parts (to me) stood out more and sometimes kind of put me to sleep. This is a good one to pick up a couple chapters at a time though, and I am overall glad I read it. Some interesting ideas in here!
My thanks to Melville House Publishing and NetGalley for the ARC.
August 31, 2024
Seems very much like an author looking for a way to fill out his subject. The chapters on Goethe, Marlowe, and Shakespeare were interesting for me - most of the other points in history seemed a little flat. Mr. Simon takes on the development of "the bomb," as a Faustian bargain, which makes some sense, but goes off the rails when he supposes a bargain in its broadest sense and launches a Jeremiad of sorts around capitalism, the industrial and information ages, and the evils of unbridled capitalism. Not that I disagree about the evils, it just seems like he's stretching the point. My feeling about the 21st century is that it's a rather soulless age, and we're not so much making bargains as following our own worst instincts - full speed ahead, damn the torpedoes.
OK, not a book I'd recommend, though it has some value.
OK, not a book I'd recommend, though it has some value.
July 15, 2025
"Devil’s Contract: The History of the Faustian Bargain" dificilmente pode ser considerado uma "história cultural" sobre a barganha faustiana. Na realidade, o livro se lê como uma coleção muito pessoal de ensaios, com várias suposições e conexões que, por vezes, você precisa ter muita boa vontade para serem interpretadas como iterações do mito em questão, sendo tratadas com pouco ou nenhum compromisso acadêmico (um exemplo disso é quando discute o pacto faustiano na música e admite não ter conhecimento de teoria musical ou história da música e mesmo assim o autor toma a liberdade para falar sobre a 'música cigana').
Se lido como um livro de ensaios, é bom, com certas sacadas interessantes e passagens literariamente interessantes. Mas, como um livro de história, peca (com o perdão do trocadilho).
Se lido como um livro de ensaios, é bom, com certas sacadas interessantes e passagens literariamente interessantes. Mas, como um livro de história, peca (com o perdão do trocadilho).
June 2, 2024
What is the difference between magic and religion, between God and the devil?
Devil's Contract is a fascinating and thought-provoking exploration of the Faustian bargain, from biblical times to the present day. Ed Simon expertly weaves broad and seemingly disparate threads across history – including witch trials, art, music, theatre, literature, cinema, the atomic bomb, and the dawning age of AI – with the central idea to compelling effect. Well-researched and presented, every chapter contains the kind of captivating ideas and topics that will send me down internet rabbit holes to learn more about.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Devil's Contract is a fascinating and thought-provoking exploration of the Faustian bargain, from biblical times to the present day. Ed Simon expertly weaves broad and seemingly disparate threads across history – including witch trials, art, music, theatre, literature, cinema, the atomic bomb, and the dawning age of AI – with the central idea to compelling effect. Well-researched and presented, every chapter contains the kind of captivating ideas and topics that will send me down internet rabbit holes to learn more about.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
January 11, 2025
Good, not great. Would have benefited from a better editor. One who could a) actually spot and correct errors and b) convince the author to put down the thesaurus. The subject of the book is fascinating but it’s so overwritten it becomes pretentious very quickly, which ruined the fascination for me personally. I just wanted to learn more on the topic, but it seems the author cared more about showing off all the big words he knows than actually teaching the reader anything. I have an extensive vocabulary myself, but I also have the understanding that big words do not a great book make. Using a twelve letter word when a three letter word would’ve done the trick just as well - for the space of an entire book - is insufferable.
July 10, 2025
Fascinating. The devil has always held a special place in my heart for all his many depictions in storytelling. This seems to be a character with limitless potential and the implications of his actions and bargains could reach immeasurable heights of theological theory. This personification of humanity at its most selfish and destructive— a warning for anyone who allows the darkness in their heart to swell for even a moment. Who wouldn't be fascinated by such a character?
The Faustian bargain is one we make every day in the modern era. How many pieces of my humanity am I willing to break off for an ounce of convenience or comfort? The suffering in exchange for my selfishness could be nearly infinite.
The Faustian bargain is one we make every day in the modern era. How many pieces of my humanity am I willing to break off for an ounce of convenience or comfort? The suffering in exchange for my selfishness could be nearly infinite.
April 20, 2025
None of it matters, whoever the "real" Simon was is irrelevant—as with Christ. For a figure who dwells at those crossroads between faith and knowledge, religion and magic, piety and blasphemy, the greatest work of conjuration Simon ever accomplished was to become something so much greater than a mere man. He became a story. Whoever Simon Magus was— whoever Christ really was for that matter-just understand that when he felt the buzzing sense behind the eyes of being grasped by some power that would descend upon him, that force was something with a name, something that could speak back.
February 23, 2024
Ed Simon's "Devil's Contract" details the history of a question underlying a bargain as old as time - Would you sell your soul to the devil? For what? And would you figure out how to reneg on it at the last moment? From Christ to Roko's Basilisk, Simon looks at where we've been and what contemporary satanic pacts may look like today. From the bible to music to the little boxes for terms and services, everything might have Mephistopheles's fingerprints on it.
My thanks to NetGalley for the advanced copy.
My thanks to NetGalley for the advanced copy.
Read
November 12, 2024Some of the arguments feel a bit like a stretch. Like if everything is Faustian nothing is ya know?
Overall had some interesting chapters. Especially the one about Hollywood, hello!
There were a handful of spelling and/or grammatical errors. C’est la vie.
Topical due to my Halloween costume, but probably more relevant to a classroom than to me currently.
Overall had some interesting chapters. Especially the one about Hollywood, hello!
There were a handful of spelling and/or grammatical errors. C’est la vie.
Topical due to my Halloween costume, but probably more relevant to a classroom than to me currently.
November 30, 2024
As much a philosophy book as a history book, Devil's Contract is a very interesting look at the concept of deals with the Devil in fiction and in history. While informative and very well researched, some of the philosophizing can be a bit wordy and there are also some parts where I feel the analogy was stretched to fit the narrative. But otherwise, I enjoyed this. Fun read.
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