“This is God,” the novel begins, and we are spinning on our way into the heart of a Midwest that spans spirits and centuries and forever redefines the middle of nowhere. Whispers plague a desperate conquistador lost in tall prairie grass. Four hundred years later, a male go-go dancer flings a bag of dope into the same field. God, in the person of a perm-giving, sheetcake-baking Nebraska farm woman, casts a jaundiced yet merciful eye over the unfolding chaos. Fire and a pair of judiciously applied pantyhose bring the two stories together. A contemplation of divinity and drugs on the ground, Tin God is a funny yet poignant, time-shifting story of the plains that transcends its interstate spine and exposes us to a whole new level of Terese Svoboda’s fiery prose.
Terese Svoboda has published 19 books of fiction, poetry, memoir and biography. Svoboda's writing has been featured in the New Yorker, the New York Times, the Atlantic, Slate, BOMB, Columbia, Yale Review, and the Paris Review. She lives in New York.
i really tried to get into svoboda's prose, which is a sort of spirit-infused run-on type of writing. the narrative flits back and forth between timelines, sort of dreaming everything into existence all at once. see, the point is that God is the narrator, and she can bake a ham and perm a neighbor's hair as well as produce itinerant incarnates. a quick read.
While the story itself didn't hold me completely, the voice of God and the description kept me intrigued throughout. That and it's short at less than 200 pages made it a quick and solid read for me, while also inciting a desire to read more of Svoboda's work since she had such a mastery of the narration.