This book is more a bible for con-artists than anything. I'm unsure how one could know Anton LaVey's history now and admire his work.

The book starts with ramblings reminiscent of 19th century German philosophy proselytizing the importance of belief in oneself. It reads to me as weak, self-centered, and the promotion of a practice that ends up being a net negative for society. I hold a lot of contempt for any philosophy which doesn't bring up humanity. Worship yourself as God and excise all negative infections of the weak around you from your life. This whole idea is harmful.

Although LaVey does recommend some things that I think many could learn from, like removing those who consistently use you from your life, most of his beliefs would be contentious with anyone who generally cares about absolutely anyone else.

The first half of the book was okay, and I viewed it as a different life philosophy. Where the book really jumps into the shitter is when LaVey becomes extremely contradictory. The symbol of Satan is ostensibly used merely as a symbol, he espouses. It's a metaphor. He states that this brand of Satanism isn't one based on spiritual belief. Why, then, are you performing seances and using naked women as "altars"? It's because he wanted these things. His obsession with becoming this dark aesthete creates a great number idiotic contrivances. The last 100 pages of the book is fluff—chants, rituals, and rules. It's absolutely ridiculous, and any of his criticisms of mainstream religion fall apart when you view the work as a whole.

I give it one Satanic naked lady altar out of five.