Interview with Xandir: The Destroying Angel

Xandir has served as a destroying angel for thousands of years, which has given him considerable power, a dangerously casual attitude toward catastrophe, and very little patience for mortal misconceptions about angels. This spoiler-light, in-character interview explores the celestial world of The Last Archangel through Xandir’s own unreliable and sharply humorous perspective.

Originally published January 13, 2012. Substantially revised and expanded July 2026.

A Conversation with Xandir

Interviewer: We have a guest today who was not easy to contact. He is not listed in the phone book, he does not maintain a blog, and the man never posts on social media. Xandir is a destroying angel by day and, apparently, still a destroying angel by night. He has the assignment until the end of the world. At least there is job security, right?

Xandir: You are awfully courageous for someone making fun of a man with a sword in each hand. I once destroyed two cities and turned a woman into a pillar of salt before lunchtime. Do not test me.

Interviewer: Sorry. I have never interviewed an angel before. From the paintings and stained-glass windows I have seen, you all seemed like an easygoing group.

Xandir: You would not be the first person misled by the artwork. We do not usually pose for portraits, but greeting-card companies could still try harder.

Interviewer: Perhaps you would like to correct some other common misconceptions.

Xandir: Where should I start? I could probably write a whole book about it.

Music in Heaven

Interviewer: Is harp playing compulsory?

Xandir: Do you think I would be caught dead with something as frilly as a harp? Angels play all sorts of instruments, though I believe several have been banned. The accordion, bagpipes, and kazoo have been relegated to the lower realms.

Interviewer: Kazoo-wielding demons. One more reason to stay on the straight and narrow.

Wings, Cherubim, and Seraphim

Interviewer: Your wings do not look quite the way I imagined. They resemble the surface of a bubble. Do all angels have them?

Xandir: Most do. They are more substantial than they look, and we are not birds. We are not oversized greeting-card cherubs either, despite all the sickly sweetness mortals have attached to the word.

Interviewer: There appear to be many different kinds of angels. How does the hierarchy work?

Xandir: The little ones are cherubim. They are younger angels in training, usually assigned to someone more senior. The ones who follow every rule perfectly become seraphim and take great pride in supervising everyone else. I have a High Seraph who acts as my glorified babysitter. His job is to make sure I do not destroy things for fun—or from boredom.

Above them are archangels, but I am sure they already receive enough attention.

Cloud Nine and Celestial Status

Interviewer: Is there really a cloud nine? What makes it so special?

Xandir: It exists, but it is not dramatically better than clouds one through eight. There may be a decent ambrosia stand there. It has been a while.

Interviewer: What about halos? You do not seem to have one.

Xandir: You are observant for a mortal. Not all angels have them. What people see as a halo is usually the glow from a crown granted to angels of high rank. I would not mind trying on an archangel’s crown. It would make a luxury watch look like a prize from a cereal box.

Duty Calls

Interviewer: Where are you going? I have more questions.

Xandir: Too bad. Duty calls. I would stay off the interstate today if I were you. I am headed there now, and it may not be pretty.

Interviewer: And he is gone. You heard him directly from the angel’s mouth: avoid the interstate and perhaps reconsider taking up the kazoo.

What the Interview Reveals

Behind the jokes, Xandir reveals several important features of the novel’s world: angels are organized into distinct orders, celestial rank has visible consequences, cherubim are apprentices rather than babies, and Xandir’s long punishment has left him cynical about both heaven and humanity.

His humor is also defensive. He speaks casually about destruction because treating it seriously would require him to confront the accumulated cost of his assignment. That tension between wit and moral exhaustion is central to his character.

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