by
John Niven
384
pages, Windmill
Review
by Bill Kirton
If
you don’t like people swearing in books, don’t read this because the guilty
parties are not only the people but Jesus, the saints and even God. But it’s
the sort of swearing that peppers everyday speech, the harmless (though still
offensive to many) vernacular of relaxed bar-room banter. The fact that life in
Heaven is enhanced by some of the best cannabis around may also make pious
souls tremble but all this gives a fluidity, pace and legitimacy to the many
exchanges and adds to the spice of a beautifully judged, very funny satire on
several aspects of the present state of society (and human development for that
matter).
Basically,
during the Renaissance, God thought His creation was progressing quite nicely
and that it was OK to take a break and go fishing. Some 400 years later (a
‘break’ is a relative term for temporality in Heaven), he comes back to reports
of centuries of religious conflicts, slavery, economic and social disasters,
global warming and irrefutable evidence that Earth has become a complete
cock-up. His staff in the main office know he’s going to go apeshit and they’re
not looking forward to the fallout.
His
single original ‘commandment’ – ‘Be nice’ – has been fragmented, multiplied,
divided and spawned countless religious sects (which are enumerated hilariously
and at astonishing length), none of which shows any respect for or
understanding of His will. He phones Muhammad, who’s also having trouble with
the Taliban and others. ‘They read something,’ says the prophet, ‘they have
their own ideas… Next thing you know, is all very bad’, to which God’s response
is that He’s only been back half a day and he's already ‘heartily sick of
textual interpretation’.
In
the end, the only answer seems to be to send His son back down again to have a
second shot at getting people to see how things could and should be. And, from
that premise, the author develops many delicious conceits revolving around aspects
of our current popular culture, artistic preferences and the enormous distance
between faith and the way people abuse it.
Jesus,
reluctantly, is relocated to modern day America where his laid-back, hipster
message of ‘Be nice’ is clearly at odds with all the prescriptive teachings of
the various churches and his attitude to money scandalises all but the few
friends who gather round him. The targets of the ensuing satire are principally
the celebrity culture, the falseness and unreality of the way we now seem to
live and an approach to religiosity which is diametrically opposed to
everything a loving divinity would wish for His flock.
But
that summary sounds so dull, so pious, that it does the book a huge disservice
because it’s hilarious. Its irreverence is reverent, its targets deserving of
our scorn. Jesus and his friends are great characters, their road-trip style
journey is adventurous, fascinating and full of surprises. ‘Disciples’ are
gathered in a very modern way; Jesus’s notoriety grows thanks to his prowess on
guitar and his beautiful voice; and his eventual death at the hands of his
persecutors fits perfectly in the context of a society run by people whose
values are those of TV talent shows and for whom the acquisition of fame and
fortune is the supreme goal. In fact, Jesus's encouragement of people to follow
his ‘Be nice’ ways ends with him being seen as a guy who ‘made it a point of
honour to insult and defame just about everything America stood for’.
The
author’s familiarity with religious factions but also with obscure pop groups
is very impressive but he wields his knowledge with care and everything’s
designed to complement the social mores he’s exploring. His attention to detail
is extraordinary, to the extent that he can scatter smaller satirical
throwaways en passant as he moves
through the larger narrative ironies. It’s a wonderful deconstruction of who
and what we’ve become.
And
yet, as I need to keep on insisting, the overall impact of The Second Coming is a
feelgood one. Look at how he ends it (and since we know what happened to Jesus
the first time round, this isn’t a spoiler). Jesus is back in Heaven and God, with
drink and cigar in hand, is looking out over his ‘emerald orchard where the
souls of toddlers and tiny babies play’. He reflects on how lucky they are and
asks ‘Why do babies on earth cry?’, which reminds him of a line from John
Updike who, he thinks, is a ‘Nice guy. Decent, honest golfer too. The kind of
fellow who won't take a gimme if he thinks there's a chance he'd miss it’. The
line is ‘as souls must cry when they awaken in tiny babies and find themselves
far from Heaven’, which prompts him the reflection: ‘Literature. Now that was
some good shit. He was glad they'd come up with that.’
A very interesting book, sounds like, and an excellent review. Think I'll pick it up, Bill. Reminds me a bit of Christopher Moore's book, Lamb.
ReplyDeleteThanks Aquarius, and your link to Lamb is spot on. I reviewed that here a couple of years back. If you liked Lamb, you'll love this one.
ReplyDeleteJe reve de vos reviews, Bill. I just hope the book is half as good! Meanwhile, as Charlie Hebdo says, "Le petit Jésus vous dit Merde".
ReplyDelete