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A review by trivial_reads
My Ex, the Antichrist by Craig DiLouie
4.5
I was lucky enough to receive an ALC (huge thanks, Hachette Audio!), but it didn’t take long to realize that audio alone wouldn’t cut it for this one. Orbit Books rarely misses for me, and I had that gut feeling this would be a ride worth taking in full. So I paused the audiobook, grabbed a physical copy, and let myself dive into the chaos. No regrets—this was totally the right move.
Told in a style that mimics oral histories and documentary transcripts, My Ex, the Antichrist radiates that raw, untamed energy of a band on the edge of fame, destruction, and something far more apocalyptic. Think Daisy Jones & The Six meets Supernatural by way of a VHS doc you’d find in a church basement—and I mean that in the best way.
Craig DiLouie clearly did his homework, and it shows. He threads together rock history, religious mythology, and the unraveling of a pop-punk band led by the literal Antichrist—yes, really—and somehow makes it work. There’s blood, there’s blasphemy, there’s a band called the Shivers that becomes an underground phenomenon. And at the center of it all? Lily Lawless, a sheltered Catholic college student turned lead guitarist with a front-row seat to the end of the world.
I loved how layered this book is. At face value, it’s the story of a girl and a boy (who might also be the antichrist) starting a band that accidentally triggers the apocalypse. But underneath the pulpy premise is a genuinely smart, weirdly philosophical exploration of power, influence, belief, and music as both salvation and destruction. DiLouie juggles these themes with a surprisingly light touch, even injecting dark humor in moments that sneak up on you. I laughed out loud more than once—even as things got really dark.
And while I was half-expecting something a little more campy or exaggerated—something leaning fully into the absurdity of the premise—what I got instead was a slow-burning, eerie, and atmospheric story with tension that builds across every gig, every interview snippet, and every whispered warning. Each show ramps up the strange and the sinister until you’re holding your breath waiting for the final act.
The structure won’t be for everyone—it’s very cut-and-paste, lots of voices, lots of snippets—but I found it totally immersive. You get interviews from Lily, bandmates, fans, academics, producers—it’s messy and nonlinear in the most satisfying way. Think VH1 Behind the Music if it ended in hellfire.
And the audiobook? A full cast (Lisa Flanagan, Jesse Vilinsky, Alexander Cendese, Pete Simonelli) brings it all to life with perfect, chaotic energy. It’s magnetic—definitely one of those productions that elevates the whole experience.
This one caught me off guard—in the best possible way. Gritty, clever, and unlike anything I’ve read this year. File it under: unexpectedly philosophical horror with guitars, eyeliner, and a front-row seat to the end times.
Told in a style that mimics oral histories and documentary transcripts, My Ex, the Antichrist radiates that raw, untamed energy of a band on the edge of fame, destruction, and something far more apocalyptic. Think Daisy Jones & The Six meets Supernatural by way of a VHS doc you’d find in a church basement—and I mean that in the best way.
Craig DiLouie clearly did his homework, and it shows. He threads together rock history, religious mythology, and the unraveling of a pop-punk band led by the literal Antichrist—yes, really—and somehow makes it work. There’s blood, there’s blasphemy, there’s a band called the Shivers that becomes an underground phenomenon. And at the center of it all? Lily Lawless, a sheltered Catholic college student turned lead guitarist with a front-row seat to the end of the world.
I loved how layered this book is. At face value, it’s the story of a girl and a boy (who might also be the antichrist) starting a band that accidentally triggers the apocalypse. But underneath the pulpy premise is a genuinely smart, weirdly philosophical exploration of power, influence, belief, and music as both salvation and destruction. DiLouie juggles these themes with a surprisingly light touch, even injecting dark humor in moments that sneak up on you. I laughed out loud more than once—even as things got really dark.
And while I was half-expecting something a little more campy or exaggerated—something leaning fully into the absurdity of the premise—what I got instead was a slow-burning, eerie, and atmospheric story with tension that builds across every gig, every interview snippet, and every whispered warning. Each show ramps up the strange and the sinister until you’re holding your breath waiting for the final act.
The structure won’t be for everyone—it’s very cut-and-paste, lots of voices, lots of snippets—but I found it totally immersive. You get interviews from Lily, bandmates, fans, academics, producers—it’s messy and nonlinear in the most satisfying way. Think VH1 Behind the Music if it ended in hellfire.
And the audiobook? A full cast (Lisa Flanagan, Jesse Vilinsky, Alexander Cendese, Pete Simonelli) brings it all to life with perfect, chaotic energy. It’s magnetic—definitely one of those productions that elevates the whole experience.
This one caught me off guard—in the best possible way. Gritty, clever, and unlike anything I’ve read this year. File it under: unexpectedly philosophical horror with guitars, eyeliner, and a front-row seat to the end times.