I’ve always thought that some of the highest praise you can give a novel is to call it original. Up Jumps the Devil is completely original, not to mention madcap, imaginative, and hilarious. It belongs on the shelf next to Chuck Palahniuk, Christopher Moore, and Carl Hiaasen (to name a few), and its heart is so obvious on every page that by the end you want nothing more than to clap author Mike Poore on the back and sit down with him over drinks.
In this novel’s world, the Devil (née Lucifer, and now calling himself John Scratch when he’s in human form) has adopted America as his “pet nation” billions of years after being expelled from heaven, and while mourning Arden, the angel whom he loves and who’s reluctant to abandon celestial safety. On earth, his altruistic philosophy evolves as a response to the way God commandeered the creation process: “If anything, the Devil seemed to think that the world should do what came naturally, that everything natural was just fine, and that questions of Good and Evil were silly. He did what he did to help a better future come faster.”