God Is Dead
Ron Currie Jr.
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
An electrifying debut from a provocative new voice in fiction that will remind readers of the best of Vonnegut
Ron Currie’s gutsy, funny book is instantly gripping: If God takes human form and dies, what would become of life as we know it? Effortlessly combining outlandish humor with big questions about mortality, ethics, and human weakness, Ron Currie, Jr., holds a funhouse mirror to our present-day world. God has inhabited the mortal body of a young Dinka woman in the Sudan. When she is killed in the Darfur desert, he dies along with her, and word of his death soon begins to spread. Faced with the hard proof that there is no supreme being in charge, the world is irrevocably transformed, yet remains oddly recognizable.
and wet hit my face hard, like raindrops driven on a gust of wind. I’d stepped too close to Allen, and my ears were ringing like Notre Dame, so I barely heard Rick mutter “Son of a bitch” in disbelief as Leo and a cop, standing together in the entryway, came into view through the smoke. The cop had his service revolver drawn and pointed in our direction. Beneath a week’s growth of beard his face was nearly as round and smooth as ours, and his eyes, taking in the scene, flashed with fear and
busted-up placard that reads GOD LIVES. The man’s eyes are half-open and staring. He might be dead. I’m always thinking the worst. To be on the safe side I let my father take the lead. He just retired from thirty years as a paramedic, so he knows better than I do how to deal with this. We stand over the man, and my father says, “Hey.” He takes the man’s arm at the elbow. “Hey,” he says, shaking him. “Wake up, buddy.” “His name’s Lou,” someone says. A woman’s face appears behind the window
Khartoum. Mubarak kept up appearances as a pious Muslim for professional reasons, but years before had jettisoned all religious conviction to make way for an innate and blossoming egomania. In our zeal and naïveté we neglected to consider Mubarak’s character as well as his intellect, a mistake we would all come to regret. Q? We were anxious to get under way, so we returned to the oasis while the village still slept, and drank from the spring pool until our guts bloated like water skins. We
choose my own fate.” “Okay,” his father said, trying to suppress an indulgent smile. “But so you know your fate is going to be a painful death at your mother’s hands if she catches you with your shoes on the bed again.” PACIFIC THEATRE SITUATION “DESPERATE” PoMo Marines in Kauai, Oahu Prepare “Alamo” Defenses With the 3rd Postmodern Anthropologist Marine Expeditionary Brigade, Kauai (AP)—Marines on this westernmost island in the Hawaiian archipelago continued to prepare Wednesday for an
that? Who were you before?” “I don’t know,” the boy said. “I’ve forgotten.” Guilt gathered in God’s throat and formed a lump there. He realized with sudden certainty that this boy, or any of the people in the camp—the men suddenly alone in their old age, the young women with disappeared husbands and hungry children—were as deserving as Thomas of his apology, would serve just as well as the altar for him to confess his sins of omission and beg forgiveness. God slid from the cot and stooped on