Washington Post book critic Ron Charles reviewed three skeptical-to-scandalous books about God and religion on Wednesday, under the inaccurate headline "Three works of divine comedy." Charles included one targeting teenagers called “There Is No Dog,” which he said was for “the younger heretic-in-training.” The book hasn’t even come out yet, but what better time to review it than days before Christmas?
“This sex comedy for teens imagines God as a horny guy named Bob who sends the world into meteorological catastrophes every time he gets the hots for another co-ed,” writes Charles. Luckily for author Meg Rosoff, “The novel has already been banned by a few schools in England, which, let’s face it, is a publicity godsend.” So is a review in the heretic-loving Washington Post. Charles has some reviewer nits to pick, but thinks this book is just fine for high-schoolers with a taste for goofy sexual content:
Marie Phillips’s “Gods Behaving Badly” handled this plot with more wit in 2007, but Rosoff has a good time with her hunky ne’r-do-well deity who is not “altogether devoid of talent, but he is devoid of discipline, compassion and emotional depth.” Like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, young Bob-God has a prim, exasperated minder: Mr. B, who fusses and fumes and tries to get the King of the Universe to pick up his dirty laundry and concentrate on saving the world. But once Bob spots a gorgeous young virgin who works at the zoo, nothing can stop Him from winning her heart. (This time around He doesn’t want to disguise himself as a swan or a bull — He wants the romance.)
The comedy here is pratfall-subtle, but it’s spiked with some surprisingly tough theological questions about the reason for suffering, the problem of free will, and the existence of God (Bob’s dyslexic, thus the title). The novel has already been banned by a few schools in England, which, let’s face it, is a publicity godsend. The rest of us can relax: Students interested in “There Is No Dog” are probably old enough to handle its goofy sexual content and its funny exploration of religious issues.
Notice how comfortably Charles suggests the "rest of us" who read The Washington Post don't have these "hang-ups" and objections to spreading the "gospel" to children that God could be a horny guy named Bob. God somehow couldn't be Author of the Universe. The Post has more reverence for authors of God-bashing "sex comedies for teens."
The Post review begins with "The Book of God" by Daily Show veteran David Javerbaum (skewered a few weeks ago by Brent Bozell.) The Post has a large image of Javerbaum's cover inside the Style section. Charles grows tired of Javerbaum's failure to be funny as he bashes the Almighty:
None of these super-liberal God-books is likely to shake your faith — or restore it — but together this unholy trilogy is a relief from the “does He or doesn’t He?” debate that generated so many titles a few years ago. We’ve moved, at least a little, from the crucifying condescension of the New Atheists to the zany ribbing of a comic roast.
God knows David Javerbaum is blessed with a good sense of humor. He was a head writer and executive producer for “The Daily Show,” and in The Last Testament (Simon & Schuster, $23.99), he tries to do for monotheism what Jon Stewart does for politics. Presented as “A Memoir by God,” the book comes divided into chapters and numbered verses like the Bible, if the Bible were narrated by Mel Brooks on crack-laced manna. It’s a bawdy circus of theological vaudeville — Shadrach, Meshach and To-bed-we-go! — determined to sacrifice every sacred cow on the altar of farce. This Lord is a Lord hungry for laughs but wracked by insecurities, troubled by “wrath-management issues.” “Like Garbo,” He says, “I had begun in silence, made the transition to talking, and now, increasingly, just wanted to be left alone.”
But with a little encouragement from His agent, He has no trouble “creating a telleth-all.” “I never give myself anything I cannot handle,” He says in one of many clever turns of phrase. As Javerbaum runs through a manic revision of the Old and New Testaments, a great multitude of revelations pours forth, many sharpened to skewer fundamentalist Christians for their supposed anti-intellectualism and homophobia. The first residents of the Garden of Eden, for instance, were Adam and Steve. “In the morning,” God says, “they grew embarrassed, and cloaked themselves in fig leaves; these constituting the entirety of their fall collection.” Kicked out of the Garden, they supported themselves “through foraging and occasional freelance work.” The alpha and the omega of Javerbaum’s comedy are deadpan silliness and startlingly graphic sexual gags, which no fig leaf could dress up for a family newspaper.
God uses “The Last Testament” as an opportunity to correct a number of misinterpretations in the Bible. Noah, for instance, wasn’t instructed to take two of “every” animal, but to take two of “any” animal. “I recommended dogs,” He says, “but I left the choice to Noah; for I have never been a cat God.” And Jesus — “a classic middle child” — was born in a “manger” because somebody misunderstood His instructions to contact the “manager.” Thou shalt laugh no matter how strained these jokes are.
Here again, Charles warns of “sensitive types” who don’t enjoy the Bible-shredding attempts at humor, and who probably would frown at him saying great, sustained comedy is outside the power of God:
Sensitive types might feel uncomfortable when Javerbaum mocks Jesus on the cross, portrays Moses as a pothead or refers to Muhammad as a pedophile, but the real offense here isn’t blasphemy so much as dullness. Chapter after chapter, there’s a lot of wandering in the comic desert, waiting for a good joke to descend from on-high. Creating 12 funny minutes every night for Jon Stewart is an answer to prayer, and Javerbaum’s wit is particularly well-suited for 140 characters on Twitter (@thetweetofgod), but writing almost 400 pages of consistently hilarious one-liners would be a miracle even beyond the powers of you know Who.
