I have only read Joy Williams’s non-fiction, and I love her fierce dedication to the natural world as expressed in biting yet idealistic prose. This novella felt just as fierce and just as idealistic, and just as dedicated to the natural world.
- I was very pleased to see that Williams hadn’t gone soft and written some bland insipid inspirational prayer book. I will admit to being a bit nervous that she had done an Eldridge Cleaver, so I’m happy that this text is a logical progression from where she’s been.
- Her conception of god is one that will probably confuse lots of people. God shows up in here, a lot. However, he is doing pretty mundane things – hosting dinner parties, visiting animal shelters, shopping, hanging out with wolves – and he’s pretty routinely confused by what has happened to the planet under the ravages of Western industrialism.
- The stories she shares are often pretty mundane, which I’m guessing is part of Williams’s point. In my mind writing a book like this that is about conceptions of the divine and that isn’t chock full of platitudes that pretend to be epic revelations is a subversive act. The fact that she makes them funny as hell and sharply observed helps.