Let There Be Light
The Real Story of Her Creation
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3.0 • 2 Ratings
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- $4.99
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- $4.99
Publisher Description
NEW YORK TIMES EDITORS’ CHOICE • An “irreverent yet profound” (Publishers Weekly) retelling of the Book of Genesis, starring a female God, from the acclaimed New Yorker cartoonist and author of Passing for Human
WINNER OF THE NATIONAL JEWISH BOOK AWARD • ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: The New Yorker
In this ambitious and transcendent graphic novel, Liana Finck turns her keen eye to none other than the Old Testament, reimagining the story of Genesis with God as a woman, Abraham as a resident of New York City, and Rebekah as a robot, among many other delightful twists. In Finck's retelling, the millennia-old stories of Adam and Eve, Abraham and Isaac, and Jacob and Esau haunt the pages like familiar but partially forgotten nursery rhymes―transmuted by time but still deeply resonant. With her trademark insightfulness, wry humor, and supple, moving visual style, Finck accentuates the latent sweetness and timeless wisdom of the original text, infusing it with wit and whimsy while retaining every ounce of its spiritual heft.
Let There Be Light is proof that old stories can live forever, whether as ancient scripture or as a series of profound and enchanting cartoons. The Book of Genesis is about some of the most fundamental, eternally pertinent questions that we can ask: What does it mean to be human? What is the purpose of our lives? And how should we treat one another? The stories that attempt to answer these questions are an immediate link with the people who first told them. Unable to fathom the holiness and preciousness of that notion, or put it into words, Finck set out to depict it. The result is a true story of creation, rendered by one of our most innovative creators.
LONGLISTED FOR THE CAROL SHIELDS PRIZE FOR FICTION
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
In an irreverent yet profound retelling of the Book of Genesis, Finck (Excuse Me) presents God as a woman artist wearing a Burger King–style crown who struggles with existential questions and intermittent depression (the beginning of creation is also "the beginning of disappointment"). The conceit begs being read as a counterplay to R. Crumb's Book of Genesis; in Finck's version, God seems more hurt and fallible than fickle: "As the world grew, she withdrew herself more and more" until "only in God's absence can we begin to comprehend her love for us." This cohesive and moving motif unfolds alongside the Old Testament stories of Cain and Abel, the bizarre "Begats" ("If you are easily bored, you may skip it"), Noah, etc., in whimsical black-and-white line drawings playfully punctuated by spot colors: red, for the Eden apple; one stripe of the post-flood rainbow; and of course Joseph's colorful coat. Finck leans into biblical idiosyncrasies while taking humanity quite seriously. Leah, the "idol" worshipped by Laban, looks like a giant sheet ghost; he's creepy as a man infatuated with an inflatable doll. But compassion from God, Rachel, and Esav make Leah real. Throughout, God and readers are reminded that light can't exist without darkness, or creation without destruction. Finck's exploration offers much light in both senses: levity and illumination.
